Blank

Excerpt: game rules and class features

In our civilization, and under our republican form of government, intelligence is so highly honored that it is rewarded by exemption from the cares of office.
- Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary

I live in a box. You know me. You’ve seen me every day of your adult life. I may as well be invisible for all you care, unless o’course yer spitting on me or kicking me out of the way. I know what really bugs ya about me. You’re afraid of me. You’re afraid I have some disease to give you, or that your kid’ll think I’m sexy or, worse yet, I’ll ask you for a job. But you wanna know what scares you most? I am you. One bad day, and yer me. One good day and I’m you. Kinda gets you by the short and curlies and pulls, don’t it. Heh. It’s thoughts like that what keep me warm at night. That an’ the fact that, I see everything. HAR! You think I’m kidding. Listen and learn. I know about that pretty boy you keep on tha southside in the luxury suite your wife thinks is for business meetings. I know about that son you had with that teenage girl from accounting. I know you wanted her to get rid of ‘it’ and paid someone last week to ‘deal with the problem.’ I know about yer boss’ affair with his male secretary. You know, the one he had sculpted to look just like a younger version of himself. I know all yer dirty little secrets. How do I know? Easy. ‘Cuz like I said earlier, I’m invisible, and you never pay attention to me ‘cept to spit on me."

Every walk of life has its poor and forgotten, shadows of people who have no permanent residence or occupation. They exist, as far as "civilized" people are concerned, merely to exist. Civilized people, for the most part, refer to these people as "Blanks" and treat them as if they were irrelevant in the workings of the world. Recently, however, the cops as well as a few high-profile corporations have begun "harvesting" the talent of these lost souls. Few people know police routes better than those who avoid them every day in order to get a decent night’s sleep, and no one knows a city like a person who never leaves it.

This untapped talent has caught the eye of many a mercenary group, and a trend is slowly forming among companies to establish Blanks as part of their standard rosters. They also work cheap and are completely deniable.

Blanks, for the most part, tend to be almost extensions of the cities they live in, becoming highly skilled at avoiding danger and sensing when something in their city is amiss. While these Blanks will never equal a Merc’s combat prowess, or an Icon’s recognizability, they are a force in their own right, and in their ballpark, everyone plays by their rules.

 

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Cop

Excerpt: game rules and class features

In God we trust, all others are suspect.
- Unknown

I walk a beat and I wear a shield. Sure, I get stuff thrown at me, and people occasionally hate me, but it’s the job they hate. I mean, come on, I get paid to shoot people and take away their freedom. What’s not to love? But, hell, they don’t even know me well enough to hate me. Don’t get me wrong, I knew that was the score when I signed up. I’m the guy who stands in front of you when some psycho with too much metal wants to punch your ticket because you remind him of what he flushed so he could pick up Tejano radio in his teeth. I’m the guy who gives you a ticket when you’re busy doing 160 in a 95 zone. I’m the guy who bags the bodies of toddlers burned to a crisp by some new killer-with-a-cause about once a month, and I’m the guy who bites his lip and white knuckles it as I watch a judge walk him that same day. I’m the guy who drives you home when you’ve had too much to drink. Like me or not, I’m your neighborhood cop and I’m here to stay. While the criminals may be better armed than they used to be, and the crimes more bizarre than anyone could have thought possible, nothing’s changed about me in decades. And there’s always more where I came from, so watch your back. Because we are."

Policing is not what it used to be in the U.S., but it isn’t so different from what was prevalent in the ’90s and later years. That is, of course, unless you consider being shot at by crazed cyborgs on a routine basis to be "different."

Police are still separated by their departments and by what they do. Traffic cops still work traffic beats, beat cops still patrol beats, detectives still detect, etc. The Cops we’re referring to are the old-style officers. They answer ultimately (in theory) to the people in a protect-and-serve capacity. They have nothing to do with "corporate interests" and couldn’t care less about "secret agendas." They are the last vestiges of the old school and are a dying breed, but they take pride in the fact that they still are an arm of the slowly evaporating government. In the end, a Cop has a lot more direct power over what he does than any corporate rent-a-cop or street sweeper. Cops don’t have to worry so much about the bottom line; they are a government entity as long as the public (taxpayers) is in good shape, and so are their budgets and jobs. In the end, they don’t hold the corporate trust in any higher regard than do any other law-abiding citizens. In the corporate eye, there is nothing worse in this world than a Cop that can’t be bought, killed, or threatened into "behaving."

 

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Fixer

Excerpt: game rules and class features

Need is the ultimate Monkey.
- Mr. Parker, The Way of the Gun

If I don’t have it, I have a friend of a buddy of a guy I used to know who can find it. In fact, I just got some of it in, now that I think about it. Something I think you might find that’ll tickle your taste buds. It’s a beauty. A real nail-biter. Two thumbs up. Eleven on a scale of one to ten. All that and a garden salad. Parental discretion advised, tho. This is some racy stuff. Some assembly required, too. But I’m taking the master for my own collection. You’ll get second gen, I swear on my father’s plastic heart. This isn’t some stepped-up copy of a reproduction. This is one of a kind, larger than life. And it can be yours for only pennies a day. What would you do with the money anyway? Food is for the weak."

Wherever there is need, there are those who profit by filling it. The fixer is just such a person. In simple terms, a Fixer is someone who acquires items of value from sources not usually available to the general public and then sells them at a mark-up to his customers. Fixers who are acting as third-party vendors often must pay their original suppliers in either favors or cash. Often the items they trade are either illegal or kept off the books for the benefit of customers seeking to maintain anonymity or preferred tax status.

Fixers may also be specialists in one or more types of commodity. Fixers who operate in this method tend to be highly sought after, as those who specialize have to strive to stock products no one else can lay hands on. Often, Fixers will also be familiar with those in similar fields in order to maintain an eye on the competition as well as to work out deals within the Fixer community.

 

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Ganger

The one means that wins the easiest victory over reason: terror and force.
- Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf

Man, I don’ know whatchu heard, and I don’ give a wipe. Sure, I carry a gat. ‘Chu taken a really hard look around the scene, man? Everybody packin’ a gat. Let me put it to ya in words even a chump like you can understand, man. If not for me and mine, this neighborhood’d be a cemetery right now. You’d be standin’ on ash and dust, know whut I’m sayin’? I ain’t playin’. Sure, we ask a little bank, but last chump that came through here, what was it, last week, with more metal than brains, we took care’a him. Yeah, he kil’t Grins, Tommy’s shorty, and Shakey’s lil sista, but tha’s the way the game gets played, ya know? This is where my baby’s momma eats and sleeps, ya clear? We got’s this place onna lockdown. Now git’chur ass outta here befo’ I blow it off and give it to my nephew azza Christmas present."

See a Ganger’s colors and you already know three things about him: who he is, what he’s done, and where he’s been. Gangs are not a new invention. Ganglike activity has actually plagued large cities around the nation for decades. In Los Angeles, the average age of a gang member is around 15 years old, while some other states tend to average even younger, but they generally have a life expectancy of about three years. When you think of a Ganger, you have to think about respect. Respect is of critical concern to gangbangers. A Ganger’s name and clout extends not only to him but also to the gang as a whole. In some groups, status is gained by having the most "cred", based largely on one’s reputation. While having cred is important, the manner by which they gain the cred is often more important. It’s often habit for many gang members to embellish their past gang activities in an attempt to impress whoever will listen. Gang members freely admit crimes and most embellish their stories to enhance their feeling of power.

In many gangs, to become a member you must be "blanket bitched" by members of the gang. This entails being beaten under a blanket so you can’t fight back until the leader calls for it to end. Afterward, all gang members hug one another in the ultimate act of acceptance. This is meant to bond members together as they now have all shed blood together. Often as not, would-be Gangers don’t live through this initiation.

 

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Hacker

Excerpt: game rules and class features

The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.
- Oscar Wilde

You need what? That’s 101 shit, dude. Eight-year-olds can do it, why can’t you? A pure waste of a talent such as myself if you ask me. You don’t need me, you need a drool-monkey with an abacus. But for you, and your cash, I’ll do it. I’ll feel sticky in the morning, but I’ll do it. Good thing you’re buying the beer."

Hacking might be truly characterized as "an inappropriate application of ingenuity." Whether the result is a quick-and-dirty chip job or a carefully crafted work of numerical art, these are the artists and visionaries of the modern age. One should also recognize that another meaning of hack is a practical joke. Of course, some hackers do both. To understand Burn Hackers, you have to understand the Net and PAPs. PAPs-Primitive Assembler Pipelines-are a fancy way to describe the union of the old scripting languages and real native code. They’re how the brain interprets code in a fully immersed environment. Envision how using 26 letters forms complicated words, or seven musical notes make a song. PAPs would be analogous to small words or word fragments or pieces of a song used to build a larger one. In order to build a program, a Hacker tends to use a lot of small pieces of code-primitives-each of which does one thing really well. To a Hacker, these pieces have a complete sensory component including vision, touch, taste, hearing, and smell. This means that you no longer just see code on the screen, but you also have a sense for what a data feed feels like and can smell an attack program from a turnpike away. With this method of coding, you start at one end and go to the other or alter the middle in a nonlinear fashion, sending the output of one prim as input to the next, arranging the blocks in the desired pattern. This gives the Hacker a considerable advantage over a linear programmer, who must follow a path of taking one step at a time.

 

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Icon

So the FCC won’t let me be, or let me be me, so let me see, They try to shut me down on MTV. But it feels so empty, without me
- Eminem, "Without Me"

I am Buddha, Jesus, Lennon, and Hitler all served in a disposable candy-like politically correct shell for your entertainment purposes only. I am THE pretty face and THE popular name. I am the smile of the monument and the resonant moment of a history. I am your graven image. I am the wave of the future. You wear the clothes I wear. You eat the food I eat. You want to be me. I am your messiah from the formless, tasteless desert of your life. I am here to tell you who is right and what is wrong. I am here to make those pesky decisions so you don’t have to. I am all 31 flavors, the special sauce, the mystery ingredient that makes life taste better. I am here to change the world and carve its shape into that of my own illustrious image. Smiles everyone, smiles!"

Icons are always there. Whether you want them there or not is another story. This term covers everything from glitzed-out movie stars to trashed-out motorhead rockers to corporate journalists to presidential interns who get caught liking cigars. If someone ever talks to the press through a bathroom stall door, he’s probably an Icon. Everybody gets fifteen minutes of fame. This just happens to be theirs. These are the Greek gods of the information age. Their glowing altars are found far and wide and their graven images appear on everything from credit cards to train stock reports. The Icon is a face and a mark of credibility in an otherwise nameless world. While the Icon will never be a ground pounder like a Mercenary, or have the anonymity of a Blank, having an Icon in the party can definitely ease tensions and supply the party with much needed PR support if anything should go horribly wrong on a mission. They’re also kinda entertaining to have around. After all, that’s what they do.

 

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Medico

Look, all I know is what they taught me at Command School. There are certain rules about a war and rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is doctors can’t change rule number one.
- Henry Blake, M*A*S*H

Okay, pretty boy, shut up while I insert tab A into slot B and try to find that pesky little artery that seems to want to play hide and seek. Man, whatta mess. That’s gonna have to go metal for sure. Don’t worry your pretty little tin-plated head, Tiny, I’ve seen worse. This is nothing like the wounds I useta treat back home during the wars, or even like the ones I saw when that guy blew a chip last week on Main Street and started shooting everything that moved. Man, triple-digit body count in under five hours. Don’t see that every day ... more like every week, lately. We had to dig under bodies for twenty minutes to find one guy who was still-shut up! Shut up! Shut up. I’ve got to put my thumb there or you’ll bleed to death. Don’t worry, the firefight’s moved down, so we’re in the clear for now. You’ll live to start another firefight in the middle of another mall during the holiday shopping season, don’t you worry, no siree. Why am I doing this? Well, to meet such entertaining people as yourself, I’m just certain. Now shut up and let the morphine do its job until the ambulance or the cops get here."

In this world of the dispassionate and the hated, a Medico has the singular advantage of never being a stranger to those they seek to aid. To a Medico, everyone is a comrade. The main objective of a Medico is to get the wounded away from the combat and stabilize them until further help can arrive. Many times this involves the Medico climbing out from protection during a heated gun fight or into Zipperhead territory to help a fallen comrade. Once with the wounded, the Medico does a brief examination, evaluates the wound, and applies whatever’s necessary, followed by a bandage. Then the Medico normally attempts to drag or carry the patient out of harm’s way and to the rear. This is usually done under enemy fire or artillery shelling. More often than not, a Medico faces the enemy unarmed or unable to dedicate himself fully to combat while helping wounded. Most times, however, even the most deviant Zipperhead will respect the Medico arm band that typically has the Combat Medic’s badge and let him carry the injured away without actually harming the Medico himself. It is considered a breach of etiquette in most communities, as Medicos are highly prized by everyone. Because you never know when you might need one yourself.

 

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Merc

Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
- Alfred Tennyson, "Ulysses"

They talk about people in my profession as if we were dinosaurs and a dying breed. We’re not becoming extinct due to the evolution of civilization. We’re becoming extinct because we murder each other. That’s what we do, and that’s how the game is played. It’s not about stakes, it’s not a matter of how will it happen. It’s a matter of ‘Will I get the job down before God turns off the lights?’ I have a name that won’t be remembered and perform a dirty job that no one else wants to do for people nobody likes. At least I’ve made peace with myself. I always said that you should make peace with yourself before you make war with others. But, then again ... I don’t make war. I am war. I am flesh of its flesh and blood of its blood. If you’ve ever hungered for the feeling of your own blood running down your arm while someone else’s sprays your face, you know exactly what I mean."

Mercenaries are professional soldiers who fight for pay or in some cases a cause or some other wayward motive. They have been employed in armies since ancient times and were the accepted main force of armies throughout history. Mercenaries, as a class, have been associated with virtually all recorded wars on the sides of good and evil, for both high and low pay.

As laws concerning the status of mercenaries and the use of them by corporate and governmental agencies are extremely vague due to the changing social atmosphere, mercenaryism has reached an all-time high among chosen occupations. Mercenaryism is probably the second-oldest profession, and now that talent has been ranked among the most sought-after resources in corporate America. According to previous laws, during an armed conflict, only "combatants" were permitted to "take a direct part in hostilities." "Noncombatants" who did so could be charged with committing a war crime and lost any protected status that they might have had. By this definition, "combatants" were defined as all members of the armed forces except medical and religious personnel. This definition was repealed shortly after the scare of ’02. Every U.S. citizen was now considered a combatant.

Paramilitaries began to be routinely deployed by governments to preserve plausible deniability and to cloud interpretations of national interests. In an effort to curb this practice a law was passed requiring security companies to be registered with national and international governments. This made the companies accountable to government licensing bodies for the activities of their mercenary groups. This allowed and required Mercenaries to be licensed in all fifty states. It quickly became customary practice for this to be paid for by their employer as part of their sign-on package. This allowed the company to offer a lower cash output to acquire higher-end Mercs as well as greater ability to track a prospective Merc’s achievement record and allowed the Mercenary, once a job was finished, unparalleled flexibility in looking for a new job. This coupled with extreme military and local law enforcement cutbacks (cutbacks mandated by the arming of local citizens) forced hundreds of U.S. soldiers and police officers into the market. Now, more than any other time in history, do the warriors decide fate.

 

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Spanner

Whatever the mind of man creates, should be controlled by a man’s character. Someday man will imprison the power of the sun, release atomic power, and harness the rise and fall of the tides.
- Thomas A. Edison

Hey, what’s that you got there? Is that one of those new Switchback Neural Chernobyl Sensepax? Skizzit man, I have I been wanting to crack what’s under the hood of one of those for so long, my mouth’s watering just looking at it. I have one of the betas, two number twos, the first three model released in the States, and built my own model four. It really wasn’t that tough if you know a bit about advanced polymer circuits and baseline man-machine interface applications. Yeah, this baby’s supposed to have the new 860 prong assembly with neural pop-up interface and guide-by-wire reaction sensors with bilateral gold boosts to up the translation index. Yeah, you got me. I’ve never worked with this model before, but I can make it sing again. I’m good at patching things up, just ask anyone. All you did was spill coffee on it, anyway. Geez."

Spanners are not a brand-new role in the world, but they are one that’s come into excessive demand as the age of cybertechnology and full-sensory Internet has reached adolescence. Spanners are the people who oversee the smooth flow and function of technology in its myriad of forms, from automotive mechanics to computer repair and eventually higher cybernetic functions. The role has come into its own as technology has become more sophisticated and people have found new ways to break it.

The job of a Spanner is not for lightweights or the weak of heart. Scrounging and Net hacking are left to people with those skills, but a Spanner is required if you need to create full-blown new technology. This unique ability makes Spanners highly prized and sought after, but also makes them automatic targets for a company’s distinguished competition.