Before I get into the next steps of playing 5150 New Hope City PI, let me tell you about the different ways in which you can play the game. I’m using miniatures simply because a part of my gaming hobby is painting and photographing miniature figures and terrain. You don’t have to use figures for this game, you could use counters or even just pen and paper. In fact, if you’re really pressed for time, you could use Pulp PI, a quick play adventure game, to game the encounters. Pulp PI is also from Two Hour Wargames.
What really makes this different from other games in the 5150 series I’ve played is the setting. I’ve chosen to set this game closer to present times. The near future game system sourcebooks that seem most complete and available is Transhuman Space from GURPS. From time to time, I’ll have to explain things that are often taken for granted in other Sci-Fi settings. There are, for example, no FTL (faster than light) space travel, communications, or information systems.
In the last episode I created my Star character, Pam Webb (Rep 5), and her group – Gina Perez, Della Street and Fu Yin (all Rep 4). This episode sets the crime and defines who the victim is, which is going to be tricky because of the various laws and jurisdictions found in space.
Several Months Ago …
Tucked away on 142 Polana is Solace Station 2, one of five stations in the Nysian asteroid family owned by the Astradyne Mining Consortium. The station is one of the “beehive” type of habitats common in the asteroid belt with the bulk of the station burrowed into the asteroid with few structures and landing pads on the surface. It serves as a port and repair facility for mining vessels; home to about a thousand individuals, mostly biodroids.
In mechanical bay eight, a group of small women with nimble fingers were finishing the final upgrades to a Buzzer, a one-person orbital mining work pod. They were all about the same height, 160 centimeters give or take a centimeter or two. They were not clones but looked nearly identical thanks to genetic engineering. They were uniquely Astradyne biodroids designed with almond shaped eyes, pointed ears and green skin. Astradyne produced only female biodroids for its workforce, though on rare occasions, a biodroid would step out of the vat with some male characteristics.
A flatbed cart, known affectionately as a mule, drove up; the driver called out “Hey, is NJ52 here?”
“I’m NJ52, what do you want?” responded one of the women.
“You’re wanted in Reprogramming” replied the driver.
Looking a bit confused, NJ52 said “Ok, I’ll be there as soon as we’re finished here.”
The driver shook her head, “You don’t understand, they want you now, they sent me to fetch you.”
NJ52 climbed onto mule and sat next to the driver. The driver put the electric cart in gear and pressed the accelerator sending the cart through the tunnels toward the reprogramming center. “Any idea what this is about?” she asked.
“Nah,” the driver replied, “I had just dropped off a load of equipment to be refurbished when they told me to come get you. To be honest, I don’t trust the human overseers in that department. Too many tales about them using reprogramming as a form of union busting.”
“I’m no union organizer, though the topic has come up a lot lately in my dorm,” said NJ52 “and I’m current on all the specs.”
It only took a few minutes for the biodroids to reach their destination. As NJ52 dismounted from the mule, the driver said, “Don’t get me wrong, most humans seem to be good people, it’s just the bunch here give me the creeps.”
The reception area was empty, not a receptionist, clerk or other office worker was anywhere to be found. Most of the lights were turned off. With a nervous voice, NJ52 called out, “Hello, anybody here?”
A side door opened and a tall lanky man in a white lab coat entered the room. His hair was dark, curly and unkempt; he wore his glasses on the end of his nose beneath bloodshot eyes on a canvas of sallow skin. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“I’m NJ52” she responded.
He uttered an oath under his breath as he pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose with a middle finger. Visibly annoyed, he commanded “Full designation.”
A bit terrified, NJ52 said “Sorry, NJE798152 reporting as ordered, sir.”
“Follow me” he grumbled, leading NJ52 through the side door into the clinic, a dimly lit and empty set of rooms. There were no nurses or technicians present. He stopped and opened the door of a treatment room which was brilliantly lit, “Go in” he ordered.
There were two other men in the room. One had a short beard and cold eyes. He nodded and left the room. The other was a heavy-set bald man with a sardonic grin.
NJ52 mustered her courage and asked, “Who are you guys and why am I here?”
The lanky man sneered, “I’m Doctor Cranston, that fellow there is Mr. Simpkins, our chief programmer and the man who just left was Sprague, a captain of a freighter. The reason you are here is quite simple, you’ve been sold.”
“Sold? How can that be, I thought it was company policy to never sell us, the main reason they made us to look so different?” asked NJ52.
“That is generally true,” answered Doctor Cranston, “however in a financial crisis, a corporation liquidates some of its assets. Need I remind you that biodroids are assets?”
“But I’m an engineer, a person in which the corporation has invested a great deal” argued NJ52.
It was Simpkins who spoke next, “There’s a surplus of engineers and a droid isn’t a person” he said.
NJ52 looked from man to man in disbelief and then she looked around the room, she noticed a tray with several hypodermics and a shiny gold bead.
As Doctor Cranston picked up one of the hypodermics, NJ52 asked “If you’re selling me, why the need for reprogramming?”
“Because Captain Sprague doesn’t need an engineer, he needs a ship’s companion” Doctor Cranston answered, “Get on the table”.
NJ52 tried to make a dash to the door, but Simpkins had anticipated her move and caught her before she took a step. “Don’t struggle” he warned.
“You’ll do fine as a companion; sex work is ideal for a biodroid” Doctor Cranston said as he injected the anesthesia.
Simpkins strapped her to the table as her vision blurred, and she lost consciousness. Doctor Cranston began shaving a two-inch strip of her hair above her right ear.
“How long is this going to take?” Simpkins asked.
“A while, it will take at least a couple of hours to detach the neural connections to the engineering chips before I can remove them” Cranston replied.
“Why do that? Leave the chips in and just install the sex worker chip. The programmed nymphomania is so strong she’ll forget she was ever an engineer,” said Simpkins.
“What if she can overcome the sexual desires?” asked Cranston.
Simpkins laughed, “Then that would be Sprague’s problem.”
A Few Days Ago …
Meredith Jackson listened to Frank prattle as she fastened the last screw to the access panel. She didn’t mind the BS coming out of his mouth, it was much better than working with nothing to hear but the air exchangers and the voices in her own mind.
“And that is the nine rings of known space” Frank concluded with a wide grin.
“That is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard,” Meredith said in response. She untethered the screwdriver in a single motion as she turned toward him.
Frank’s expression turned sheepish, “Well, it’s just a game. I know the physics are absurd, but you can see how organizing space in that manner would be beneficial.”
“Beneficial?” Meredith laughed, “beneficial to the corporations and their paid governments wanting to build empires. It’s like when European leaders sat in a room and divided up Africa and most of Asia without ever having been there. Here, catch.” She gave the screwdriver a light push and it floated towards Frank.
“Like I said, it’s just a game mechanic to set boundaries for the different factions. You should give it a try” Frank said as he caught the screwdriver and placed it in the tool bag.
“Hmmm, being social and playing a game, or being anti-social and getting drunk – I’m afraid booze wins out over dungeons and space goblins” Meredith replied.
Just as they were entering the main passageway, a tube connecting all of the decks of the workstation, an alarm sounded, lights dimmed, and red warning lights began flashing. “Warning, warning – this is a proximity warning, collision in three minutes” was broadcast throughout the workstation.
Meredith turned to Frank, “We’ve got to get to the vac suits on the command deck.”
It only took a few seconds to reach the command deck where Frank and Meredith joined the rest of the small crew, time was of the essence as each one donned a vac suit. “What’s happening, Ellison?” Frank asked.
“It’s an escape pod, it was going to pass us by when suddenly it changed direction” answered Tom Ellison, the crew foreman.
Jill Seton added, “It’s firing its braking thrusters, but we don’t know if it will stop before hitting us.”
It seemed as though there was an eternity in the following seconds. The system reported, “Warning, collision in eight minutes.”
“Braking thrusters have shut off, the pod is drifting” Seton announced.
“Whoever’s on board isn’t responding to comms,” said Mark Wilson.
Tom Ellison turned and said “Jackson, take the work pod out and check for life”.
The workstation had a single one-man work pod for making external repairs. It wasn’t long before Meredith reached the drifting escape pod. “The escape pod appears to be in good shape, I can tow it over to the docking hatch” she reported, “I’m picking up one life form on board, maneuvering to the pod’s port to take a look inside.”
“I’ll be damned,” said Meredith.
“What is it, Jackson?” Ellison asked.
Meredith answered “You’re not going to believe this, Tom, but space goblins are real.”
Today
“You seem to be in a good mood this morning Pam,” said Della Street.
Pam Webb smiled. “I am, Della, I just left Yin and Gina at the space port where they’re putting the final touches on our OTV. It should be ready for a test flight after lunch.”
“Mr. Mason said he was tickled pink that you named our Orbital Transport Vehicle the ‘Paul Drake’. There is something unusual on the nets, today,” Della paused until she was sure she had Pam’s attention, “A freighter, the ‘Luckey Lou’, lost an escape pod a few days ago passing Luna on its way to the Columbia Deep Space Port. What is strange is that the captain has placed ads for bounty hunters instead of salvage crews to look for the escape pod.”
“That is odd, Della,” said Pam.
“Mr. Mason thinks so, as well, and would like for us to look into it” Della added.
“Hmmm, one of his hunches I suppose. Looks like our test flight will be to the Columbia Deep Space Port. Let Mr. Samson at the Islandia office know where we’re going,” said Pam.
What’s the Crime?
The dice say the crime is a theft. NJ52 appears to have stolen an escape pod from the freighter to which she was assigned.
The victim of the theft is Captain Lucious Sprague of the Luckey Lou.
On the Investigation table, I rolled a Difficulty Factor of 3, so there will be 6 Clues needed to be solved.
The Employer happens to be Mr. Mason.
The Time Frame is Not Pressing so Pam Webb’s team has 6 days to solve the crime once the first Clue is solved.
Wages will be 4 Increasing d6 if successful.
Next Time …
The setting of the campaign is complete. Next time, I play the first encounter – the interview of Captain Sprague.
Your thoughts, comments and suggestions are always appreciated.
Finally, with the elections drawing near, you’re not really going to vote for someone who claims immigrants have come to our country to eat cats and dogs, are you?
Atomic Floozy Adventures 