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Rigged (Solo RPG)

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« on: <08-28-20/2117:12> »
I don't know if anyone else here plays Solo RPGs, but if you do, check out Rigged. It's got some interesting ideas that can be used for matrix in a lot of games.

Solo RPGs are more of a mix between a free-writing exercise and a random prompt generator, but then again, so are regular RPGs. Difference is, regular RPGs require things like "friends" and "interpersonal contact." Yeck.

It's based on "the Wretched," another solo RPG. It's played with:
* A deck of cards
* Some d6
* A jenga tower (Optional. Indie RPGs are weird) I don't have one so I use this, but rolling a d20 and counting a "1" as the tower falling may have the same effect.

These were the results of my first 2 runs with Max CringeTMI writing:

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Run 1, this is 0B. I'm fragged either way, so... why not now?

* Monster disappeared last week in Atlas. They never were much of a decker, but I didn't think they'd be so cold as to join up with mother corporate. Did they get what was coming to them? Or did they just get burned, like me? If they went to Atlas, it's because I had nothing left for them.

* "Payback time." That could only be one person. I can almost smell their vile stench. Angelican. Or maybe it's my rig that's burning. They just keep trying and trying, when I have nothing left. Well. They can try again.

* So there's a few kids who think they're drek-hot running for Atlas. Well, well, well. I think I'd hate them more if they were turncoats, than if they'd grown up suckling from mother corporate's teat all their lives. Too bad they won't be around long enough for me to find out.

* Mazes within mazes. Noneuclidean geometry gives me a migraine. Anyone with any salt to their name can avoid it or reprogram it, but it's a pain in the ass. One day you're at the base of a pyramid, and the only way to go is up into the blinding light of the sun at the top. Today, it looks like I'm deep underground, within a network of crevices. A false turn will get you trapped forever, until you starve or Atlas's so-called "hackers" track down your signal. Then a company man puts a bullet in your skull, leaving you drenched in sweat and blood, tangled in the screaming wires and circuits of your rig. The matrix here is dark, but that's okay. I can feel it.

* Mm, not quite what I want. On an earlier day, if I were a better decker, this would be a scoop and take in the rent money. A little blackmail never hurt anyone. And I don't feel too put out on putting the screws to someone stupid enough to embezzle from mother corporate.

* Static through the wires. An old song, maybe daft punk? Only one of my friends likes the oldies. Zachariah on the Mile. But good old Mile hasn't messaged me in weeks. Maybe they're a little too desperate, like me, cashing in a bounty on my pretty little head. Well. We might be friends, but I die for no one.

Results of Run 1: I can't help but think I'm making no progress. I spent more time shaking off dweebs from my past than I did cutting code. My word's drek these days, otherwise I might've at least made enough for microwave dinner. Still, nothing wrong than a little "creative writing" on the StufferShack's pizza delivery drone network.

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Run 2, still 0B here. I let my rig cool off a bit, and the delivery drone showed up with the alleged pizza. Really living life at its largest here.

* Arleen would know what to do. Drek, no she wouldn't, the old slitch got herself killed doing something dumber than this. But I owed her. My rig, my skills, all of it- nothing without her. That's what she'd say, anyways, if I made a mistake or talked back (Which was a mistake). But Arleen could break ICE like nobody's business. Maybe that's why I tried to do what I could for her daughter Jay. But no code can cut through the bars of a maximum security prison. There's no criminal records to write if the system takes you in anonymously. I don't even know if Jay's still in that jail, or if they shipped her somewhere else. Ghost knows I burned a lot of cred trying to find her, get her out. I don't think it was worth it, to help out a stranger just because she's the daughter of a dead woman I hated.

* If I could sell this rig, I'd try and pay off the mafia. I don't think they'd appreciate that too much. This rig's worth a lot more than my debt to them, but the work they give me is worth a lot more to them than my debt ever was. It's stupid, trying to cut a deal with one wolf to get another off your back. And if I squared things with the mafia, the yaks might come back, trying to collect on the debt I owed them for my cyberjack. It's a real mess.

* ERROR ERROR ERROR. Then again, I'd have to find someone dumb enough to pawn this rig off on. Them's the brakes.

Results of Run 2: I must not have let the rig cool down enough. I didn't even touch Atlas, I'm falling apart on my own terms. Maybe I just need some sleep.

It's not exactly "challenging" or "crunchy" by any meaning of the terms, but I found it to be useful for finding the right tone.