LO-LIFE is a quest about relationships, self-improvement and identity, set in the backdrop of a...
LO-LIFE: A DateQuest
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Prologue I: LO-LIFE
Exhack
We Won't Build The Plane!
- Location
- Montreal, Canada
LO-LIFE is a quest about relationships, self-improvement and identity, set in the backdrop of a futuristic fictional city floating on the North Sea.
Do you know yourself well enough to fall in love?
Will you be someone worth loving?
-LL-
Do you know yourself well enough to fall in love?
Will you be someone worth loving?
-LL-
Life in a new city presents new opportunities. You can reinvent yourself, make new friends and explore the urban landscape.
NEUE PALAS is the place to be these days. An artificial island constructed in the warming North Sea, floating on a million tonnes of foamed pseudocrete and plastibar, safe from the storms that batter the equatorial waters. The big EU melting pot: where the the moneyed, the working-class and the desperate mingle. It's close to the UK, but doesn't see much traffic from that part of the world- not since the increased tensions along the Channel.
Like many of the city's young people, you came to work where there were opportunities. The weeks since you've arrived have been pleasant enough, but your routine has gotten a bit boring. You haven't really explored beyond your home borough and the financial district where you work.
You'd like to date a little and explore, but it's been a while hasn't it?
Don't lie, how much DATING have you really gotten up to?
[ ] None, you are a kissless virgin. It's easier to like people when you don't have preconceptions.
[ ] Limited, you've dated a little and had some hookups but nothing serious. No effect.
[ ] Extensive, you've been around and don't get emotional as easily. You're a lot more chill about relationships but get less excited about milestones.
It's not like it's impossible for someone like you to date, with that in mind. You just need to find someone with the right REFERENCE POOLS. Someone who can get your jokes and references, and shares at least part of your worldview.
The other question is how much time for dating you have, isn't it?
What kind of JOB do you have, and when are you free to SOCIALIZE?
[ ] Office, as a junior member of management you work steady hours but sometimes get overtime. You can occasionally ask for days off, as long as there's no upcoming projects.
[ ] Service, your service industry job grants relatively flexible but backbreaking hours. You can negotiate hours for days off in advance.
[ ] At-Home, you mostly work from home as a freelancer. You still have to put in fairly hefty hours to make ends meet but there's no commute most days and you can work in your underwear.
[ ] Unemployed, but looking and on benefits. On the bright side you don't have to worry about work or scheduling. You're kind of broke, though.
--LL--
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Appendix I: Mechanics
Appendix II: Character Profiles
Prologue II: FREE-LANCER
Exhack
We Won't Build The Plane!
- Location
- Montreal, Canada
[x] None, you are a kissless virgin. It's easier to like people when you don't have preconceptions.
[x] At-Home, you mostly work from home as a freelancer. You still have to put in fairly hefty hours to make ends meet but there's no commute most days and you can work in your underwear.
THE REAL DATEQUEST STARTS HERE.
--LL--
You'd call yourself a late bloomer, but that might be excessively polite and a little self-pitiying. You've never gone on a serious date and the last time you held hands with a girl was an exercise in primary school. The later parts of your life seemed to get in the way of opportunities to date: illness, an all-boys school, a difficult college experience coupled with a part-time job, yet more illness. So here you are unpleasantly creaking into your twenties, hoping to break the funk before it becomes permanent.
The other reason you'd like to date is because work doesn't really offer you a pool of same-age peers to socialize with. Your bosses are all frugal aristos into their fourties and way out of touch; your other main human contact are the landlord or the odd overworked intern who needs to ferry some physical copy of your work to and from the offices.
For normal people who go on dates, work is one of the first things they talk about.
What IS your work, exactly? This will define one of your REFERENCE POOLS.
[ ] You work as an ANIMATOR. Your apartment is strewn with sketches and reference materials.
[ ] You work as a PROGRAMMER. Your rig is fairly impressive and runs off a homemade OS.
[ ] You work in from-home CUSTOMER SERVICE. Your desk has an array of stress-relief devices, puzzle toys and an ever-changing stash of snacks.
[ ] You don't so much work as live as an INTERNET PERSONALITY. A large portion of your apartment is rigged with lighting and sound. Your fortunes are built on a combination of e-patronage, ad revenue and merch.
[ ] You just do WHATEVER. Data entry, customer service, beta testing games, human input tasks for software development… you don't really care as long as you can keep living on your own in Neue Palas. [Don't take a work-based Reference Pool.]
--LL--
REFERENCE POOLS are one of the most important mechanics in LO-LIFE. These represent a combination of life experiences, knowledges, interests and personal beliefs which will inform some of the protagonist's behavior. As you increase your stats and become more socially adroit, you will be able to discern the REFERENCE POOLS you share with the people you date. This allows for deeper and more meaningful discussions, in-jokes and options for dates that might not be available (or good ideas) otherwise.
The protagonist has a maximum of 8 REFERENCE POOLS, which will be selected gradually over the course of play. Some will appear at pre-planned events, such as the one above. Some REFERENCE POOLS will only appear once or twice, but will provide strong general improvements to the protagonist's eligibility in dating. Others may harm overall romantic opportunities except with specifically compatible partners.
Be careful!
--LL--
Regardless of your reasons, you've settled on your next course of action: which is to actually meet somebody new and dip your toes back in that sea full of metaphorical fish. The rain's stopped and it's actually quite pleasant outside for now- it'll apparently last all night according to the forecasts. It's about 7 PM on a Friday, meaning you have quite a few hours to mess around before you need to head home. Regular bars and some restaurants close at 3 AM in Neue Palas.
Where do you go for your first attempt?
[ ] Head to the LOCAL GYM.
[ ] Head to the LOCAL BAR.
[ ] Go explore the DISTRICT WATERFRONT.
[ ] Join a DATING SITE.
[x] At-Home, you mostly work from home as a freelancer. You still have to put in fairly hefty hours to make ends meet but there's no commute most days and you can work in your underwear.
THE REAL DATEQUEST STARTS HERE.
--LL--
You'd call yourself a late bloomer, but that might be excessively polite and a little self-pitiying. You've never gone on a serious date and the last time you held hands with a girl was an exercise in primary school. The later parts of your life seemed to get in the way of opportunities to date: illness, an all-boys school, a difficult college experience coupled with a part-time job, yet more illness. So here you are unpleasantly creaking into your twenties, hoping to break the funk before it becomes permanent.
The other reason you'd like to date is because work doesn't really offer you a pool of same-age peers to socialize with. Your bosses are all frugal aristos into their fourties and way out of touch; your other main human contact are the landlord or the odd overworked intern who needs to ferry some physical copy of your work to and from the offices.
For normal people who go on dates, work is one of the first things they talk about.
What IS your work, exactly? This will define one of your REFERENCE POOLS.
[ ] You work as an ANIMATOR. Your apartment is strewn with sketches and reference materials.
[ ] You work as a PROGRAMMER. Your rig is fairly impressive and runs off a homemade OS.
[ ] You work in from-home CUSTOMER SERVICE. Your desk has an array of stress-relief devices, puzzle toys and an ever-changing stash of snacks.
[ ] You don't so much work as live as an INTERNET PERSONALITY. A large portion of your apartment is rigged with lighting and sound. Your fortunes are built on a combination of e-patronage, ad revenue and merch.
[ ] You just do WHATEVER. Data entry, customer service, beta testing games, human input tasks for software development… you don't really care as long as you can keep living on your own in Neue Palas. [Don't take a work-based Reference Pool.]
--LL--
REFERENCE POOLS are one of the most important mechanics in LO-LIFE. These represent a combination of life experiences, knowledges, interests and personal beliefs which will inform some of the protagonist's behavior. As you increase your stats and become more socially adroit, you will be able to discern the REFERENCE POOLS you share with the people you date. This allows for deeper and more meaningful discussions, in-jokes and options for dates that might not be available (or good ideas) otherwise.
The protagonist has a maximum of 8 REFERENCE POOLS, which will be selected gradually over the course of play. Some will appear at pre-planned events, such as the one above. Some REFERENCE POOLS will only appear once or twice, but will provide strong general improvements to the protagonist's eligibility in dating. Others may harm overall romantic opportunities except with specifically compatible partners.
Be careful!
--LL--
Regardless of your reasons, you've settled on your next course of action: which is to actually meet somebody new and dip your toes back in that sea full of metaphorical fish. The rain's stopped and it's actually quite pleasant outside for now- it'll apparently last all night according to the forecasts. It's about 7 PM on a Friday, meaning you have quite a few hours to mess around before you need to head home. Regular bars and some restaurants close at 3 AM in Neue Palas.
Where do you go for your first attempt?
[ ] Head to the LOCAL GYM.
[ ] Head to the LOCAL BAR.
[ ] Go explore the DISTRICT WATERFRONT.
[ ] Join a DATING SITE.
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Prologue III: ANI-GYM
Exhack
We Won't Build The Plane!
- Location
- Montreal, Canada
[x] You work as an ANIMATOR. Your apartment is strewn with sketches and reference materials.
[x] Head to the LOCAL GYM.
--LL--
Your work as an animator provides a combination of flexible hours but also tight deadlines. Animation isn't taken very seriously on the EU mainland and the overseas markets are relatively competitive, so you mostly do work for indies- work that satisfies more than it pays. A couple of French and Canadian studios have branches here in Neue Palas to access the local talent pool and benefit from the city's special tax exemptions for media companies. These provide really good work now and then, though you imagine your availability might plummet if you take a serious position with one of them for a film or TV show.
The apartment you rent reflects this. Your desk is a dedicated media workstation, drawing table and display for a half-dozen reference drawings and figurines. Some of your favorite projects are on display:
- Cyrien, a film about a rabbit rafting between the Greek islands to reunite with his family in Berlin (that went to Cannes).
- A collector's edition box for Zaikuwar, an anime-styled game that you did the opening animation for.
- An Animator's Webby for Starducks, a weird little video of CGI short film that basically replicates the trench run from A New Hope… with ducks.
Naturally you also have a decent movie collection of animated films that were personally influential to you, or generally influential on the industry.
But enough of that.
Your mind is set: you'll head to the gym for your first try at picking someone up for a date.
You peel out of bed and shed your pajamas, switching to perhaps your best and cleanest athletic clothes, and douse in a bit of deodorant and cologne to mask the faint funk you have going on. A shower will wait until after- you're going to smell bad anyway right?
Finding your sneakers and duffel for a change of clothes takes a little effort, given how messy your apartment is. Art supply clutter and boxes full of backups of key animation from old projects inhibit your movement slightly, forcing you to traipse around carefully. Eventually you assemble everything and head out the door, slipping outside without running into any of the other people who live in your block or the landlord's family.
It's balmy enough that a tank top seems like the right choice to make, a good breeze from the sea keeps it from being too hot or humid but you don't want to get any sweatier before you've even start out. The streets are full of people going out to enjoy the weather and nightlife in your low-mid income borough of IL ROSSO-BOHNENFELD, trendy hipsters and bohemiennes out in full force. The creatives began migrating out here when the working class started purchasing houses on the secondary islands.
As with a hundred cities before it, Neue Palas is vulnerable to gentrification of its districts- though allegedly rent-fixing and mixed allocations have prevented rents from spiking. You haven't noticed a difference, so you're grateful enough. The walk to the nearest gym passes an Armenian patisserie, a Turkish bathhouse and a German delicatessen. Voices ring inside, and above in the high stacks of apartments.
You arrive at GINTO GYM after just a few minutes. The world inside is concrete and glass and plastic, the smell of antiseptic and lavender fighting a losing battle against the scents of body odour and cheap spray-on deodorants. Inside you see rippling, moving bodies in various states of semi-dress. Some are attractive to you, some are not. At least the number of women is roughly equal to those of men here.
The receptionist is a smallish tan man with bristly black hair and a patchy beard, wearing a purple basketball top. The desk is glass and his shorts are not very long at all, providing of dark legs that are hairy as they are muscular. He perks up, giving you a nod and quasi-smile as you step up.
"Hello." He says in English, in that practiced almost-pleasant customer service tone.
"Hello." You reply in the same, without it.
"Welcome to GINTO GYM. We are currently having a promotion in vitamin waters, which are free at the juice bar. Do you have a membership?"
[ ] "Yes." Despite your profession and lifestyle, you're actually pretty ATHLETIC. (Acquire new Reference Pool.)
[ ] "No." You're just here to pick up girls.
[x] Head to the LOCAL GYM.
--LL--
Your work as an animator provides a combination of flexible hours but also tight deadlines. Animation isn't taken very seriously on the EU mainland and the overseas markets are relatively competitive, so you mostly do work for indies- work that satisfies more than it pays. A couple of French and Canadian studios have branches here in Neue Palas to access the local talent pool and benefit from the city's special tax exemptions for media companies. These provide really good work now and then, though you imagine your availability might plummet if you take a serious position with one of them for a film or TV show.
The apartment you rent reflects this. Your desk is a dedicated media workstation, drawing table and display for a half-dozen reference drawings and figurines. Some of your favorite projects are on display:
- Cyrien, a film about a rabbit rafting between the Greek islands to reunite with his family in Berlin (that went to Cannes).
- A collector's edition box for Zaikuwar, an anime-styled game that you did the opening animation for.
- An Animator's Webby for Starducks, a weird little video of CGI short film that basically replicates the trench run from A New Hope… with ducks.
Naturally you also have a decent movie collection of animated films that were personally influential to you, or generally influential on the industry.
But enough of that.
Your mind is set: you'll head to the gym for your first try at picking someone up for a date.
You peel out of bed and shed your pajamas, switching to perhaps your best and cleanest athletic clothes, and douse in a bit of deodorant and cologne to mask the faint funk you have going on. A shower will wait until after- you're going to smell bad anyway right?
Finding your sneakers and duffel for a change of clothes takes a little effort, given how messy your apartment is. Art supply clutter and boxes full of backups of key animation from old projects inhibit your movement slightly, forcing you to traipse around carefully. Eventually you assemble everything and head out the door, slipping outside without running into any of the other people who live in your block or the landlord's family.
It's balmy enough that a tank top seems like the right choice to make, a good breeze from the sea keeps it from being too hot or humid but you don't want to get any sweatier before you've even start out. The streets are full of people going out to enjoy the weather and nightlife in your low-mid income borough of IL ROSSO-BOHNENFELD, trendy hipsters and bohemiennes out in full force. The creatives began migrating out here when the working class started purchasing houses on the secondary islands.
As with a hundred cities before it, Neue Palas is vulnerable to gentrification of its districts- though allegedly rent-fixing and mixed allocations have prevented rents from spiking. You haven't noticed a difference, so you're grateful enough. The walk to the nearest gym passes an Armenian patisserie, a Turkish bathhouse and a German delicatessen. Voices ring inside, and above in the high stacks of apartments.
You arrive at GINTO GYM after just a few minutes. The world inside is concrete and glass and plastic, the smell of antiseptic and lavender fighting a losing battle against the scents of body odour and cheap spray-on deodorants. Inside you see rippling, moving bodies in various states of semi-dress. Some are attractive to you, some are not. At least the number of women is roughly equal to those of men here.
The receptionist is a smallish tan man with bristly black hair and a patchy beard, wearing a purple basketball top. The desk is glass and his shorts are not very long at all, providing of dark legs that are hairy as they are muscular. He perks up, giving you a nod and quasi-smile as you step up.
"Hello." He says in English, in that practiced almost-pleasant customer service tone.
"Hello." You reply in the same, without it.
"Welcome to GINTO GYM. We are currently having a promotion in vitamin waters, which are free at the juice bar. Do you have a membership?"
[ ] "Yes." Despite your profession and lifestyle, you're actually pretty ATHLETIC. (Acquire new Reference Pool.)
[ ] "No." You're just here to pick up girls.
Prologue IV: YES-WHO
Exhack
We Won't Build The Plane!
- Location
- Montreal, Canada
[X] "Yes." Despite your profession and lifestyle, you're actually pretty ATHLETIC. (Acquire new Reference Pool.)
"Yes," you slide him your member card. What kind of loser goes to a gym they're not a member at, just to pick up girls? Not you, obviously. You've been a member for several months now and while you're taking a bit of a risk by coming out to meet someone, you do hope to use familiar territory to your advantage.
The attendant looks over your card with a frown, bringing it closer to his eyes. "Sorry sir, your card bar code and name are worn out. The text looks melted somehow…?"
"Oh, that, yeah. Spilled turpentine all over it. Accident, of course." You rub the back of your neck and glance over to the exercise area. "Normally the door guy just waves me in… did something change?"
"No sir. But I have to issue you a new card. Name?"
"Sorry?" You glance back to him, distracted.
"Your name. So I can print you a new card."
"Oh, right..."
[ ] Mathias Yang, implied: Franco-Chinese
[ ] Sameer Gagne, implied: Franco-Algerian
[ ] Nicodemo Michelakis, implied: Greco-Spanish
[ ] Leonard Komarudin, implied: Dutch-Indonesian
You provide your name, address and some basic personal information. After an initial awkwardness resolving the details, your new card is printed out and given to you. You swipe in in the first time in ages, into the crisp air mired in a battle between the environmental scent the owners prefer and that which working bodies necessarily impart on it.
You take a quick trip into the locker rooms to offload your change of clothes and take care of other essentials, returning to the central space. The totality of the gym's actual workout spaces are on the first floor: above those are private rooms for things like martial arts and yoga which you aren't currently taking part of. Standing in the middle and looking around for girls working out feels a little indecent somehow, but you swallow your lingering reservations when you remember the loneliness of the last few months holed up in your apartment and scrambling to finish freelance work.
Thinking about this, there are a couple of approaches you could take. You work could out really hard at something you're good at and impress somebody- but knowing your luck you could just as easily wind up with a gym bro wandering over and commenting on your form. You could pick a spot that's in talking distance to one of the relatively attractive girls you've spotted and make small talk while you do your routine. Last you could just do your routine properly and hang around the juice bar to make smalltalk with anyone who comes by.
What do you do?
[ ] Impress.
[ ] Try to charm someone mid-exercise.
[ ] Just wait until after your routine.
And what's your routine like anyway?
[ ] Excuse me while I go in the back and flip some tractor tires, do a hundred suicides and crawl under barbed wire.
[ ] High reps on a low-intensity machine, free weights and light aerobic exercises. I'm gonna make it.
[ ] Just weight training on machines and free weights. Nothing special.
[ ] Mostly cardio and endurance training. I run and bike a lot.
[ ] I have a routine from the internet. Gotta stay thin and look cute.
"Yes," you slide him your member card. What kind of loser goes to a gym they're not a member at, just to pick up girls? Not you, obviously. You've been a member for several months now and while you're taking a bit of a risk by coming out to meet someone, you do hope to use familiar territory to your advantage.
The attendant looks over your card with a frown, bringing it closer to his eyes. "Sorry sir, your card bar code and name are worn out. The text looks melted somehow…?"
"Oh, that, yeah. Spilled turpentine all over it. Accident, of course." You rub the back of your neck and glance over to the exercise area. "Normally the door guy just waves me in… did something change?"
"No sir. But I have to issue you a new card. Name?"
"Sorry?" You glance back to him, distracted.
"Your name. So I can print you a new card."
"Oh, right..."
[ ] Mathias Yang, implied: Franco-Chinese
[ ] Sameer Gagne, implied: Franco-Algerian
[ ] Nicodemo Michelakis, implied: Greco-Spanish
[ ] Leonard Komarudin, implied: Dutch-Indonesian
You provide your name, address and some basic personal information. After an initial awkwardness resolving the details, your new card is printed out and given to you. You swipe in in the first time in ages, into the crisp air mired in a battle between the environmental scent the owners prefer and that which working bodies necessarily impart on it.
You take a quick trip into the locker rooms to offload your change of clothes and take care of other essentials, returning to the central space. The totality of the gym's actual workout spaces are on the first floor: above those are private rooms for things like martial arts and yoga which you aren't currently taking part of. Standing in the middle and looking around for girls working out feels a little indecent somehow, but you swallow your lingering reservations when you remember the loneliness of the last few months holed up in your apartment and scrambling to finish freelance work.
Thinking about this, there are a couple of approaches you could take. You work could out really hard at something you're good at and impress somebody- but knowing your luck you could just as easily wind up with a gym bro wandering over and commenting on your form. You could pick a spot that's in talking distance to one of the relatively attractive girls you've spotted and make small talk while you do your routine. Last you could just do your routine properly and hang around the juice bar to make smalltalk with anyone who comes by.
What do you do?
[ ] Impress.
[ ] Try to charm someone mid-exercise.
[ ] Just wait until after your routine.
And what's your routine like anyway?
[ ] Excuse me while I go in the back and flip some tractor tires, do a hundred suicides and crawl under barbed wire.
[ ] High reps on a low-intensity machine, free weights and light aerobic exercises. I'm gonna make it.
[ ] Just weight training on machines and free weights. Nothing special.
[ ] Mostly cardio and endurance training. I run and bike a lot.
[ ] I have a routine from the internet. Gotta stay thin and look cute.
Prologue V: THREE-BAR
Exhack
We Won't Build The Plane!
- Location
- Montreal, Canada
[x] Nicodemo Michelakis, implied: Greco-Spanish
[x] Just wait until after your routine.
[x] Mostly cardio and endurance training. I run and bike a lot.
After getting this worked up over the prospect of even trying to hit on a girl here at the gym, you decide the best course of action is probably to get through your workout first. Your frayed nerves will be smoothed over by the exercise and you'll be too tired to fret and overfocus on every single little thing. You clip your phone to the little forearm strap you keep on so you can use podcasts to down out and slide your earbuds in, and then make your way to the treadmills to start.
You can do an impressive speed and incline on it, if you say so yourself- your legs are shredded even if the rest of you is a little average in comparison. Although given that you have goals besides self-improvement today, you keep it to a reasonable tempo and resistance and just stick to what you're comfortable with. You don't even feel time pass, entering a state of flow as you run through the various steps in your routine.
"...!" You hear something and feel an arm press on your shoulder, but only hear a voice after you dial your music down. "Assbutt, over here."
You've migrated over to the free weights and started doing curls when an unpleasant presence disturbs you from your revelry.
"Oh hey." You turn to respond to it. To him.
Stephen looms over you with the telltale aroma of bad bodyspray on his skin and cheap detergent on his too-small clothes, clinging to an impressively tan, muscular figure. He's one of your classmates from university and one of the few people you regularly still contact even though you wouldn't actually consider him a friend. He works in Ginto Gym as a trainer, but you count yourself lucky for having never had him.
He rubs the bridge of his nose, scratching at a curly black beard. "Hey yourself, you listening to the news?"
"Uh…" You shake your head. "No, actually. What's going on?"
He whips out his phone and pulls up a Le Monde article, and then flips to a video from Liveleak. "They caught another boat of British wireheads trying to get into the city. Fucking refugees am I right?"
A grainy video shows a rubber raft carrying a half-dozen people flip over in the tumultuous North Sea moments before being rescued by a Neue Palas police boat. The video helpfully highlights that the number of people taken aboard is smaller than the estimated number on the raft.
"Damn," you frown. You tend to not watch the news, but the horror stories about immigrants always get you.
"You're Greek, right? Must be deja vu all over again." Stephen ribs you and inches into your personal space, forcing you to set the weights down and actually engage with him.
"Half and… no. I was like three and in a different country when that was happening." You shrug. Maybe if you start giving lame answers I'll leave you alone. "Can't really blame people when they have have good reasons to leave though."
He snorts. "Figures you'd side with augs. I figure it's a fair trade… you want an immortal brain that doesn't get Alzheimer's and learns with the press of a button, you pay it off by letting everyone peek inside your head."
"Words of a man who's content with being average." You laugh, wondering if that'll provoke a reaction.
"In all ways but social, mental... physical." He preens a bit, not even letting it register. "And my Lil Stevie, of course."
"So it's not physical?"
"Haha, you cheeky cunt. You're up on it today, for once." The looks you over again, looking curious. "But seriously, I only ever see you in the AM. Special occasion or something?"
"Nothing really." You shrug. "Figured I'd change up my routine."
"No good, my dude. Routine good, disruption bad." He chides, somehow shifting gears and sounding concerned and reasonable all of a sudden. You're not really sure how or why he gets like this, but it almost makes likeable. "You're going to sleep like shit if you're not used to working out this close to your bedtime."
You go to put the weights back and start stretching as part of your cool-down. "I think I'll feel fine. I went easy anyway, I don't want to smell."
"Fair enough, man." He starts helping you with stretches, pulling on your limbs and pressing on your back to get you to the positions that you normally couldn't get to all by your lonesome. His eyes blink in recognition as you wrap up, looking at you all shocked. "Oh shit, you have a date or something? Is she here? Point her out."
You sputter and then shake your head. "What? No. Why would you ever assume…"
Stephen shakes his head and shrugs. "Alright dude my bad, low blow. But seriously, we have clean showers and you live like, two blocks down. What are you worried about smelling about?"
"Yeah… I g-get it…" You nod hastily, clearly this is all a misunderstanding.
"And deodorant man! Deodorant! You are an adult."
"Y-yeah yeah…" He leaves quickly enough after you make more small talk.
You migrate to the showers to rinse off, but you're still left with the lingering concerns about how you'll make your approach. The idea strikes you on your way out, passing the juice bar. It's fairly late so there aren't a great deal of people around except for the usual late-working salaried types who don't have time in the morning or afternoon, but of those present you can spot three women who seem good-looking enough:
Hanging directly by the juice bar counter, a young woman in yoga pants and a cutoff tee is trying samplers of the fruit-flavored vitamin waters that were brought in. She's a thin Nordic blonde with hazel eyes, with a pretty heart-shaped face and thin lips accentuated with high-end makeup. She's carrying a rolled-up mat in her bag.
Another woman is sitting by herself at one of the dock-facing windows, nursing a large fruit smoothie and contemplating something. She's an attractive, smoothly dark-skinned woman with narrow dark brown eyes and strong cheekbones. Her dark frizzy hair goes to her neck in a voluminous bloom, the tips bleached to a light brown. She's in shorts and a tank top, and is wearing a lifting belt. She's quite muscular, so probably a seasoned lifter.
The last is a curvy young South Asian woman in a faux-vintage anime t-shirt and baggy grey sweatpants, both somewhat sweat-stained. Her face is cutely round, framed by dark hair that runs past her shoulders. She's reclining by a table with a green smoothie, taking sips in between giggling at videos on her phone.
Which one do you approach? Pick ONE.
[ ] The slim girl by the counter.
[ ] The strong woman by the window.
[ ] The curvy girl watching videos.
And how do you do it? Pick up to TWO, unless you want to leave.
[ ] Tell her she looks pretty!
[ ] Ask her about what she's doing.
[ ] Ask her about what she's drinking.
[ ] Ask if she comes here often.
[ ] Talk about current events.
[ ] Make a comment about how you see her all the time but never talk. This is a lie.
[ ] Make a woke comment about corporate presence in the gym.
[ ] Actually, this is a bad idea. (LEAVE)
[x] Just wait until after your routine.
[x] Mostly cardio and endurance training. I run and bike a lot.
After getting this worked up over the prospect of even trying to hit on a girl here at the gym, you decide the best course of action is probably to get through your workout first. Your frayed nerves will be smoothed over by the exercise and you'll be too tired to fret and overfocus on every single little thing. You clip your phone to the little forearm strap you keep on so you can use podcasts to down out and slide your earbuds in, and then make your way to the treadmills to start.
You can do an impressive speed and incline on it, if you say so yourself- your legs are shredded even if the rest of you is a little average in comparison. Although given that you have goals besides self-improvement today, you keep it to a reasonable tempo and resistance and just stick to what you're comfortable with. You don't even feel time pass, entering a state of flow as you run through the various steps in your routine.
"...!" You hear something and feel an arm press on your shoulder, but only hear a voice after you dial your music down. "Assbutt, over here."
You've migrated over to the free weights and started doing curls when an unpleasant presence disturbs you from your revelry.
"Oh hey." You turn to respond to it. To him.
Stephen looms over you with the telltale aroma of bad bodyspray on his skin and cheap detergent on his too-small clothes, clinging to an impressively tan, muscular figure. He's one of your classmates from university and one of the few people you regularly still contact even though you wouldn't actually consider him a friend. He works in Ginto Gym as a trainer, but you count yourself lucky for having never had him.
He rubs the bridge of his nose, scratching at a curly black beard. "Hey yourself, you listening to the news?"
"Uh…" You shake your head. "No, actually. What's going on?"
He whips out his phone and pulls up a Le Monde article, and then flips to a video from Liveleak. "They caught another boat of British wireheads trying to get into the city. Fucking refugees am I right?"
A grainy video shows a rubber raft carrying a half-dozen people flip over in the tumultuous North Sea moments before being rescued by a Neue Palas police boat. The video helpfully highlights that the number of people taken aboard is smaller than the estimated number on the raft.
"Damn," you frown. You tend to not watch the news, but the horror stories about immigrants always get you.
"You're Greek, right? Must be deja vu all over again." Stephen ribs you and inches into your personal space, forcing you to set the weights down and actually engage with him.
"Half and… no. I was like three and in a different country when that was happening." You shrug. Maybe if you start giving lame answers I'll leave you alone. "Can't really blame people when they have have good reasons to leave though."
He snorts. "Figures you'd side with augs. I figure it's a fair trade… you want an immortal brain that doesn't get Alzheimer's and learns with the press of a button, you pay it off by letting everyone peek inside your head."
"Words of a man who's content with being average." You laugh, wondering if that'll provoke a reaction.
"In all ways but social, mental... physical." He preens a bit, not even letting it register. "And my Lil Stevie, of course."
"So it's not physical?"
"Haha, you cheeky cunt. You're up on it today, for once." The looks you over again, looking curious. "But seriously, I only ever see you in the AM. Special occasion or something?"
"Nothing really." You shrug. "Figured I'd change up my routine."
"No good, my dude. Routine good, disruption bad." He chides, somehow shifting gears and sounding concerned and reasonable all of a sudden. You're not really sure how or why he gets like this, but it almost makes likeable. "You're going to sleep like shit if you're not used to working out this close to your bedtime."
You go to put the weights back and start stretching as part of your cool-down. "I think I'll feel fine. I went easy anyway, I don't want to smell."
"Fair enough, man." He starts helping you with stretches, pulling on your limbs and pressing on your back to get you to the positions that you normally couldn't get to all by your lonesome. His eyes blink in recognition as you wrap up, looking at you all shocked. "Oh shit, you have a date or something? Is she here? Point her out."
You sputter and then shake your head. "What? No. Why would you ever assume…"
Stephen shakes his head and shrugs. "Alright dude my bad, low blow. But seriously, we have clean showers and you live like, two blocks down. What are you worried about smelling about?"
"Yeah… I g-get it…" You nod hastily, clearly this is all a misunderstanding.
"And deodorant man! Deodorant! You are an adult."
"Y-yeah yeah…" He leaves quickly enough after you make more small talk.
You migrate to the showers to rinse off, but you're still left with the lingering concerns about how you'll make your approach. The idea strikes you on your way out, passing the juice bar. It's fairly late so there aren't a great deal of people around except for the usual late-working salaried types who don't have time in the morning or afternoon, but of those present you can spot three women who seem good-looking enough:
Hanging directly by the juice bar counter, a young woman in yoga pants and a cutoff tee is trying samplers of the fruit-flavored vitamin waters that were brought in. She's a thin Nordic blonde with hazel eyes, with a pretty heart-shaped face and thin lips accentuated with high-end makeup. She's carrying a rolled-up mat in her bag.
Another woman is sitting by herself at one of the dock-facing windows, nursing a large fruit smoothie and contemplating something. She's an attractive, smoothly dark-skinned woman with narrow dark brown eyes and strong cheekbones. Her dark frizzy hair goes to her neck in a voluminous bloom, the tips bleached to a light brown. She's in shorts and a tank top, and is wearing a lifting belt. She's quite muscular, so probably a seasoned lifter.
The last is a curvy young South Asian woman in a faux-vintage anime t-shirt and baggy grey sweatpants, both somewhat sweat-stained. Her face is cutely round, framed by dark hair that runs past her shoulders. She's reclining by a table with a green smoothie, taking sips in between giggling at videos on her phone.
Which one do you approach? Pick ONE.
[ ] The slim girl by the counter.
[ ] The strong woman by the window.
[ ] The curvy girl watching videos.
And how do you do it? Pick up to TWO, unless you want to leave.
[ ] Tell her she looks pretty!
[ ] Ask her about what she's doing.
[ ] Ask her about what she's drinking.
[ ] Ask if she comes here often.
[ ] Talk about current events.
[ ] Make a comment about how you see her all the time but never talk. This is a lie.
[ ] Make a woke comment about corporate presence in the gym.
[ ] Actually, this is a bad idea. (LEAVE)
Prologue VI: CAT-VID
Exhack
We Won't Build The Plane!
- Location
- Montreal, Canada
[x] The curvy girl watching videos.
[x] Ask her about what she's drinking.
[x] Ask her about what she's doing.
You carefully consider your options and weigh the odds that you might be able to hold a normal conversation with them. The blonde was easily the most attractive in a classical sense but had nothing to really respond to or bring up in conversation. The powerlifter was appealing in other ways but she looked like she wanted to be by herself- and even though you're both active people your regimens are probably at odds. Cardio decreases gains, or so the literature says.
That leaves the girl sitting by herself and watching videos. You feel a little silly for not thinking about it immediately, but the anime t-shirt was a dead giveaway. Once you get close and start talking, you have a topic you can bring into your bailiwick.
On your way, you pick up a mango, banana and pineapple smoothie at the automatic kiosk, something sweet that'll cool you down and hydrate you. The blonde gives you a quick glance, but pays you no mind as you wander off. It feels a little skeevy somehow to pretend to walk past her on your way to another table, but you manage to pace it out in a way that isn't blindingly obvious. As it turns out, she's watching a livestream of some kittens playing inside of an indoor play area in someone's house. By the loops and struts of the text scrolling by, somewhere in the Koreas perhaps.
A white kitten is pounced upon by another, a sibling with smudges of charcoal across its face and brilliant blue eyes. The two wrestle, briefly, and bite at eachother affectionately. The girl breaks into riotous laughter.
You compulsively make a little laugh, as well. She turns around just a bit, having not noticed you.
"Oh, sorry. Am I being too lou-" her speaking voice is soft, a sweet-sounding and well-rehearsed soprano.
"Err what are you doing… I mean watching." You peer again, and kinda-sorta interrupt her as you hastily regurgitate the line you prepared.
"Just a livestream. It's Meow House."
"Meow House?"
"They're like, breeders of cats who use the streaming revenue to help fund the K-SPCA."
"That's cool."
"Sorry, I mean was I laughing too loud? I can leave if it's like a problem or… sorry." She blinks, as if realizing something. "Wait, do you work here? You're not telling me to pipe down?"
"No, I'm actually uh… newish. Nicodemo… but call me Nico." She's mistaken you for an employee. You're not really sure how to take that, but it's probably a compliment about how fit you look, you realize. You break a smile, and try to invite yourself to the table. "Mind if I... uh watch sit?"
Shit.
"Uh… sure. I'm leaving soonish but I've got half my smoothie left." She replies, turning back to her phone with a smile. "They just woke up for mealtime, so it's going to be fun."
You take the seat by her, nodding. "Nice."
"It's the best part." She says, sitting her phone on the table. Her posture constricts, putting a hand to the chair and squeezing her middle a little with her arm.
The owner, a middle-aged east asian woman scrolls into view on the main camera view, starting to pour out into kibble bowls. A half-dozen kittens swarm around her ankles, followed by a pair of mottled smoke and cloud-colored adults with the same stark blue eyes as the kittens. The kittens clamber over one another and their presumptive parents, tumbling over moments later.
"Hee!" She instantly relaxes a little at the sight, laughing. "The two big ones are Pepero and Yaongi. They got busy and there was lots of hype about Yaongi getting pregnant, and then they had them just a few weeks ago."
"Heh. So what you got there?" You look over to her drink.
The girl swirls the cup idly, shrugging. "Oh it's like… I don't know. Healthy stuff. Banana, avocado, passionfruit and spinach? I just pressed the buttons that matched my mealplan to see how it'd taste."
"How does it taste?"
"Kinda thick? Sweet, almost buttery. You don't even notice the spinach." She takes another sip, and frowns. "Passionfruit was weird, though..."
You nod, and she smiles and returns to her livestream. While it doesn't seem like she dislikes you, you feel a bit like your awkwardness has crept into the situation and made her close up a little. The conversation is about to enter a lull as you watch cat videos with this stranger, who has given you neither her name nor number.
What do you try to do?
[ ] Ask her about her t-shirt as a segue to anime and animation in general.
[ ] Ask her about cats and other animals.
[ ] Ask her for her name.
[ ] Ask her what she's doing later.
[ ] (x0.8) Say goodbye. You'll have another shot someday.
[x] Ask her about what she's drinking.
[x] Ask her about what she's doing.
You carefully consider your options and weigh the odds that you might be able to hold a normal conversation with them. The blonde was easily the most attractive in a classical sense but had nothing to really respond to or bring up in conversation. The powerlifter was appealing in other ways but she looked like she wanted to be by herself- and even though you're both active people your regimens are probably at odds. Cardio decreases gains, or so the literature says.
That leaves the girl sitting by herself and watching videos. You feel a little silly for not thinking about it immediately, but the anime t-shirt was a dead giveaway. Once you get close and start talking, you have a topic you can bring into your bailiwick.
On your way, you pick up a mango, banana and pineapple smoothie at the automatic kiosk, something sweet that'll cool you down and hydrate you. The blonde gives you a quick glance, but pays you no mind as you wander off. It feels a little skeevy somehow to pretend to walk past her on your way to another table, but you manage to pace it out in a way that isn't blindingly obvious. As it turns out, she's watching a livestream of some kittens playing inside of an indoor play area in someone's house. By the loops and struts of the text scrolling by, somewhere in the Koreas perhaps.
A white kitten is pounced upon by another, a sibling with smudges of charcoal across its face and brilliant blue eyes. The two wrestle, briefly, and bite at eachother affectionately. The girl breaks into riotous laughter.
You compulsively make a little laugh, as well. She turns around just a bit, having not noticed you.
"Oh, sorry. Am I being too lou-" her speaking voice is soft, a sweet-sounding and well-rehearsed soprano.
"Err what are you doing… I mean watching." You peer again, and kinda-sorta interrupt her as you hastily regurgitate the line you prepared.
"Just a livestream. It's Meow House."
"Meow House?"
"They're like, breeders of cats who use the streaming revenue to help fund the K-SPCA."
"That's cool."
"Sorry, I mean was I laughing too loud? I can leave if it's like a problem or… sorry." She blinks, as if realizing something. "Wait, do you work here? You're not telling me to pipe down?"
"No, I'm actually uh… newish. Nicodemo… but call me Nico." She's mistaken you for an employee. You're not really sure how to take that, but it's probably a compliment about how fit you look, you realize. You break a smile, and try to invite yourself to the table. "Mind if I... uh watch sit?"
Shit.
"Uh… sure. I'm leaving soonish but I've got half my smoothie left." She replies, turning back to her phone with a smile. "They just woke up for mealtime, so it's going to be fun."
You take the seat by her, nodding. "Nice."
"It's the best part." She says, sitting her phone on the table. Her posture constricts, putting a hand to the chair and squeezing her middle a little with her arm.
The owner, a middle-aged east asian woman scrolls into view on the main camera view, starting to pour out into kibble bowls. A half-dozen kittens swarm around her ankles, followed by a pair of mottled smoke and cloud-colored adults with the same stark blue eyes as the kittens. The kittens clamber over one another and their presumptive parents, tumbling over moments later.
"Hee!" She instantly relaxes a little at the sight, laughing. "The two big ones are Pepero and Yaongi. They got busy and there was lots of hype about Yaongi getting pregnant, and then they had them just a few weeks ago."
"Heh. So what you got there?" You look over to her drink.
The girl swirls the cup idly, shrugging. "Oh it's like… I don't know. Healthy stuff. Banana, avocado, passionfruit and spinach? I just pressed the buttons that matched my mealplan to see how it'd taste."
"How does it taste?"
"Kinda thick? Sweet, almost buttery. You don't even notice the spinach." She takes another sip, and frowns. "Passionfruit was weird, though..."
You nod, and she smiles and returns to her livestream. While it doesn't seem like she dislikes you, you feel a bit like your awkwardness has crept into the situation and made her close up a little. The conversation is about to enter a lull as you watch cat videos with this stranger, who has given you neither her name nor number.
What do you try to do?
[ ] Ask her about her t-shirt as a segue to anime and animation in general.
[ ] Ask her about cats and other animals.
[ ] Ask her for her name.
[ ] Ask her what she's doing later.
[ ] (x0.8) Say goodbye. You'll have another shot someday.
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