You turn and see the man walking out of the store, following you.

“Listen, were you the fella I drove by heading north out of Gibson?”

Many, many cars and trucks have passed you, so you tell the man you’re not sure.

“Nah, musta been. Real long haired fella, carryin’ a bag like that bikin’ straight on outta the city,” he says. He takes off his hat and runs his hand through his thick, curly hair.

“Name’s Mason,” he says. “I’m headin’ out to see my ma and pa, up north.”

He points to a car parked on the other side of the store’s lot.

“Thing is, that piece a shit broke down, so I got delayed over here for near an hour. S’probly how y’all caught up to me. You headin’ out somewhere too?"

It seems that the man has noticed your long trip, and perhaps wants to offer you a ride. If you accept his offer, you’d get to Arthur’s a lot faster. But can you trust this guy?

>1) Tell him where you’re headed, and ask if he can give you a lift.
>2) Don’t trust him – make something up.
>3) Say something else <Write In>

>>42817574
>3) Say something else <Write In>
"Yo mama's house"

>>42817574
>>1) Tell him where you’re headed, and ask if he can give you a lift.

>>42817574
>>1) Tell him where you’re headed, and ask if he can give you a lift.

>>42818473
>>42818510
Good to see a face that at least feigns friendlyness.

“I am, as a matter of fact,” you say.

You tell Mason you’re heading to a farm about forty-five minutes north of here. He tells you he’d be glad to give you a ride, if you’re willing to accept it. You’ve been biking for nearly two hours with the Battery, and it would be good to put some distance between you and the city before your face starts popping up on the news channels.

You wedge your bike in his trunk and hop into the shotgun seat. As you drive, Mason tells you about his life. He was born on the nearby planet on Kaisari while his parents were there on vacation. He spent his childhood in Stronach, the capital of South Retale, until his dad scored a job in Gibson. He found work in a humanitarian outfit, bringing modern comforts to the villages of the south. Eventually his parents retired and bought a plot of land out north, which is where he was headed now. He asks few questions about you, other than what brings you out here. You explain you’re likewise visiting family, but were too poor to afford a more reliable means of transportation. This is very nearly true.

After a comfortable ride, the bearded samaritan brings you to a side road surrounded by fields of corn and wheat. You say your goodbye, thank the man, grab your bike and the Battery and walk off. It was the kind of road travellers pass by on the highway, on the way to some other more important destination. It was such a road that not even the most curious would be motivated to follow to the end. Concrete gives way to gravel and eventually smooth dirt the farther you walk. Just another farm, they’d say. A house, some fields, a couple of horses or cows. Standard fare in the countryside, and for the most part, they’d be right.

>>42819070
You walk up to the farmhouse, two sturdy stories tall. You knock.

A woman, in the difficult period of transition into middle age, opens the door.

“Jay!” she says, brushing off her purple and white tracksuit. “You’re leaving again?”

“Yes ma’am,” you say, giving a polite bow. She invites you in and you enter, sitting down on a couch in the corner of the wood-floored entryway.

“Arthur!” the woman yells upstairs. “Jay’s back!” She smiles at you and leaves to another room.

Heavy feet plod down old wooden stairs, invisible until they round the corner and reveal their owner: A man past his midlife crisis, black hair receding, wearing blue denim overalls on top of a stained off-yellow work shirt, sleeves up to the elbows.

What do you say to Arthur?
>Greet him normally.
>”Howdy, farmer Arkansas”
>Say something else.

>>42819131
>>”Howdy, farmer Arkansas”

>>42819131
>>Say something else.
Come with me if you want to live.

>>42819131
>>Greet him normally.

Is Farmer Arkansas not how we normally greet him?

Rolled 1 (1d3)

>>42819141
>>42819171
>>42819228

>>42819758
Aren’t you the trickster?
“Howdy, farmer Arkansas,” you say.
“Wh- Damnit, Jay!” Arthur shouts. “Didn’t I just tell ya this morn-“
“Relax, Arthur,” you say, smirking. “I’m just messing with you.”
Arthur sighs, shaking his head.
“Well I told ya, I don’t like it. You gotta put it behind ya.”
Well, he had a point.
“Anyway,” he says. “Weren’t you gonna give me a call? Why’d you come all the way out here for?”
“I’m heading out,” you say. “Did you fuel up the Wasp?”
“I did, but-“
“Good,” you say. “I’m heading out.”
“Hold on up, there,” Arthur says. “What’s goin’ on? I see ya fly on that Wasp a week ago, and-“
“Yeah,” you say. “Sorry I didn’t say hi then. Margaret said you were out working the fields.”
“Stop interruptin’, Jay! I’m tellin’ ya, ya fly in a week ago, then I hear nothin’ for them seven days, then ya call me sayin’ ya wanna grab a beer, and now you’re rip-roarin’ to get outta town? What the hell’s goin’ on?”
Well, first Weston and now Arthur. Everybody wants to know what all the hubbub’s about. You can tell Arthur everything, which may endear him to you a bit more. Or, in the interest of time, you can give an abbreviated version.
Should you:
1)
a) Give Arthur an abbreviated version
b) Tell him in detail
2) (pick all that apply)
a) How you ransacked a Wheel ship
b) How you have a Battery
c) How you saw the masked man
d) How you found Tom’s body
e) Tell him a lie (roll 1d20 for bluff)
f) Don’t tell him anything

>>42819909
a) Give Arthur an abbreviated version

a) How you ransacked a Wheel ship
d) How you found Tom’s body
Watch your self now

>>42819909
>b) Tell him in detail
a) How you ransacked a Wheel ship
d) How you found Tom’s body

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>42819999
>>42820095

>>42820095
>>42819999
Time flows…
You give Arthur a short version of events: Tom told you about a wrecked Wheel battleship. You flew there, took a bunch of scrap, and came back to find him dead.
“So, as you can see, I’ve got a pressing need to not be near Gibson right now,” you explain. “I think I’m lucky just to be alive.”
“No, kidding, huh…” Arthur says. He takes a seat on the couch next to you and sighs once more.
At that moment, Margaret returns with a teapot in her hands.
“Are you going to stay for tea, Jay? Or do you want something to eat?”
You shake your head no. Margaret sighs, seeming discouraged. She leaves the room.
“Look, Arthur, it’s a much longer story than what I have time for,” you say, standing up. “I really do need to leave.”
“Where ya headed to now, then ? Gonna lay low somewhere?”
“No sir. I’m going down south. Things are getting too hot to handle up here.”
Arthur looks out a window and up at the sky, where, if he had a telescope, he’d be able to see three Confederate ships orbiting the planet.
“Wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with you, would it, Jay?” He asks.
“Absolutely nothing. You didn’t sell me out to the Confeds, did you, old man?”
Arthur chuckles.
“C’mon Jay, I wouldn’ dream of it. We’re birds of a feather, out here in the boonies.”
You smirk. Arthur was good at heart. Given the current situation, you doubt you’ll ever see him again.
“I’ll see you later, Arthur.”
“So long, Jay,” Arthur says. “And I ain’t never seen nor heard of ya, right?”
You throw a thumbs up, walking back out the front door and over to the barn.

>>42820643
The Wasp is right where you parked it, hidden under a tarp at the back of the barn behind a ton of farm machinery. You open the barn’s rear entrance, and are about to drop the Battery into the Wasp’s rear compartment when you have a conscience attack.
You haven’t paid Arthur yet for the fuel he put in your ship. Any way you look at it, you’ve got three choices here:
>1) Leave some of your Wheel scrap in the barn and send a message to Arthur explaining what it is, although it’d be on him to sell it.
>2) Leave some of your hard currency with him, but you’ll have less to spend when you reach Caulfield.
>3) Don’t pay, leave an IOU. You’re going to come back someday, right…?

>>42820665
>2) Leave some of your hard currency with him, but you’ll have less to spend when you reach Caulfield.

Dont leave clues like the scrap

>>42820665
>>2) Leave some of your hard currency with him, but you’ll have less to spend when you reach Caulfield.

Don't want to leave the scrap, too incriminating

>>42820665
>>2) Leave some of your hard currency with him, but you’ll have less to spend when you reach Caulfield.

>>42820740
>>42821146
>>42821221

Unwise to leave evidence of your tracks…
You scrounge your pockets and drop some cash on the table. Money’s going to be tight in Caulfield, but Arthur’s never done you wrong and you sure hope he doesn’t start.
With all that business accounted for, you hop in the Wasp and start her up. In just a couple of minutes, you’re in the air, heading southeast toward Caulfield.
--
>A special note, these are the first in-text “Alternate POVs” of the quest!
Alternate POV: Regan Scott and the hunt for the Scavenger: http://pastebin.com/5aTHLhf7
Alternate POV: Atter strikes: http://pastebin.com/wpL8VbKf
--
Caulfield from the air is a bunch of fields, cobblestone streets, and wood-roofed houses. Your destination is the trailer park, which you can see from kilometers away as you approach: A cleared out series of dirt, with spaceships of various sizes and complexities parked haphazardly, a shanty town made up of ships instead of shacks. A small chain link fence separates the edge of town from the trailer park. The flight across continents took your Wasp less than two hours.
As you pull down into the park, a small crowd gathers around your chosen landing spot. You land the Wasp and hop out, coming face to face with a particularly portly gentleman. His face is lined with the creases of age, and he wears a dirty white undershirt and ripped jeans. Behind him is a cosmopolitan group: men and women, young and old, of all walks of life. The fat man sticks out a thick, rugged hand.
“Henry,” he says. “What’s your business?”
What do you do?
>1)
a. Shake his hand.
b. Don't
>2)
a. “I’m laying low for a bit.”
b. “Just passing through.”
c. “None of your business.”
d. >Something else>

>>42821797
a. Shake his hand.
b. “Just passing through.”
Be polite but discreet

>>42821797
a. Shake his hand.
b. “Just passing through.”

>>42821797
>a. Shake his hand.
>d. >Something else>

"Things are getting tight up north, wanted a bit of quiet in my life without the DSC over my shoulder."

>>42821797
Don't shake oh I'm just passing through

>>42821797
Damn that is good write ups man
Hell of a POV

>>42821825
>>42821836
>>42821918
>>42821857
Polite and efficient.
You grab Henry’s hand and shake firmly.
“Just passing through,” you say. “Wanted a quiet, Confederate-free life for a bit.”
“Hm,” Henry says, sizing you up. “Don’t we all, huh.”
“Don’t we all,” you repeat.
“Well,” Henry says. “We don’t make a habit of pryin’ here. Like I said, I’m Henry. Somewhat of a “leader” for the people here.”
“Nice to meet you,” you say. “Anything I should know?”
“Not really,” Henry says. “We’re just people living our lives. Don’t piss folks off and don’t fuck with the townspeople and there won’t be any trouble.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Alright then,” Henry says, putting his hands on his hips and stretching his back. The crowd behind him starts to disperse. “You play poker?”
“Used to,” you say. “A while back.”
“Well, I’m runnin’ a game tonight, round 49:00. You should come, introduce yourself to some of the boys.”
“I’ll consider it, uh-“
You find yourself momentarily disoriented. It was first-afternoon when you left, and took you two hours to get here, so how could it second-afternoon already- oh yeah, timezones.
“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” you say. “Let me get settled in, first.”
“Right on, then. Oh, by the way,” Henry says, “What’s your name?”
What should you tell Henry?
>1) Give him a real name
>2) Give him a fake name <Write In>

>>42822344
>>1) Give him a real name

But only the first name, we never got his last anyways

>>42822344
>>1) Give him a real name
Real first name, fake last one.
Jay McPhee

>>42822344
>1) Give him a real name
Ray Johnson

>>42822461
>>42822530
>>42822543
>Something I should mention is that we, legally, don't have a last name (this came up, albeit briefly, in the previous thread)

>>42822572

Oooooh, right, I say Ray, it's close enough that we should be able to respond to it instinctively

>>42822344
>2) Give him a fake name
Sam Jones

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>42822543
>>42822824

>>42822543
>>42822641
Clever, aren’t you?

“Ray,” you say.

“Well then, Ray,” Henry says, “See ya tonight.”

You’ve got about 3 hours until the poker game, if you decide to go. For now, you decide to take stock of your situation.

Right now, you’re stuck on Retale until the Confederates lift the moratorium. You would attempt to leave anyway, but chances are pretty high you’d get picked off – when the Confeds want something enforced, they enforce it.
You’ve got to get to New Pallas, which is where, as far as you know, you’ll find Washington – your best bet for getting rid of the Battery while also making some money.

You turn on the Wasp’s computer and look at the route. New Pallas is too far away to reach in one trip, and, as far as you can tell, there’s one of two ways you can take to get there: You could go through the Confederate, but largely ungarissoned planet of Kaisari, or you could head to Bunkatsu-Fenlie, a wholly independent planet. But you’ll worry about that when the time comes.

As far as supplies go, you’ve got $4,534 Confederate dollars attached to your ID, none of which is of much use to you here. You’ve also got $156 in hard currency left over after you paid Arthur for the fueling up the Wasp.

In terms of food, the Wasp has enough rations to last two Retalan days.

Rounding it up, you’ve got a few changes of clothes, and, of course, a small black box that can power an entire battleship.

>>42823112
You hop out of the Wasp, examining your surroundings. The village of Caulfield is on a hill off to the west. The dirt paths of the trailer park extend all around you, leading to all kinds of nooks and crannies. Taking stock leaves you with about two and a half hours until the poker game.
What do you do?
>1) Check out the village.
>2) Check out the trailer park.
>3) The less people see you, the better. Stay in the Wasp.

>>42823146
>>2) Check out the trailer park.

Might as well check our environment (in case we have to skedaddle) and our neighbors (in case there's someone useful around)

>>42823146
The town

>>42823146
>>1) Check out the village.

>>42823146
>2) Check out the trailer park.

>>42823146
>1) Check out the village.
>2) Check out the trailer park.

>>42823198
>>42823234
>>42823420
Off to fraternize with the locals.
You decide to check out Caulfield, leaving the trailer park and climbing up the hill. It’s a cool afternoon in the South of Retale, and the sky is near cloudless, a stark contrast with the greys of Gibson. It’s a fair hike up to the village proper. The dirt path turns to cobblestone as you approach, and soon, your feet hate you for it.
Caulfield can very easily be described as “quaint” or “charming”. The houses are made from bricks and wood, with some even built of stone. Bordering the trailer park is what you guess are people’s houses, since they have little yards and flower gardens. The people walking around in the streets take quick notice of you: your jeans and jacket, your long, wild hair, not to mention your reflective red goggles are things quite mysterious to village life.
You pause at an intersection as a shepherd tends to his flock down what you assume is one of Caulfield’s main thoroughfares. There’s a sign where some local landmarks of import are pointed out.
>1) Head toward the market.
>2) Head toward the schoolhouse.
>3) Head toward the constabulary.

>>42823810
>1) Head toward the market.

>>42823810
>>1) Head toward the market.

>>42823810
>>1) Head toward the market.
We need a good old fashioned shank of some sort. We should see if barter is an option.

>>42823824
>>42823928
>>42823944
You make a move toward the market, which turns out to be a small square surrounded by shops. A fountain gurgles lazily in the square’s center. Some kids sit on the fountain’s steps, chewing gum and generally wasting time. Merchants peddle foods, clothing, tools, and many other things you might expect to find at a small village. The merchants quickly recognize you as an outsider, as someone from the trailer park; their facers seem a bit sterner after the realization.
Of the objects you find yourself in need of, most notable are the various food merchants, along with a store at the back advertising hunting supplies. There’s also a barber and a clothes merchant, if those things interest you. Getting a haircut might help throw the authorities off your trail, but it’d cut into your increasingly limited funds.
Which of the stores should you visit?
>a) The food merchants
>b) The hunting store
>c) The barber
>d) The clothier
>e) None of them; go elsewhere in the village.

>>42824217
>c) The barber
>b) The hunting store

We need to change our look and if we can hunt we can provide food for ourselves and possibly sell surplus to get funds

>>42824217
>b) The hunting store
>c) The barber

>>42824217
>a) The food merchants
We need it.
>b) The hunting store
Some survival supplies, and maybe a weapon, would be good. A barber is only good if they shoot our mugshot out, which at that point they have our facial structure itself on picture. Clothes don't much change anything, we're clearly an outsider, and we have enough to last for a bit. Not that our clothing is distictive in the first place. Maybe one would consider a all-weather jacket or greatcoat they might have in the hunting store, depending on the weather here, also would help to blend in if we had to flee through the woods if camouflage.

>>42824217
>a) The food merchants
>b) The hunting store

>>42824299
>>42824378
>>42824455
>>42824651
Not quite like a candy shop.
You decide to check the prices at a few of the stores.
Going around the various food merchants, you find you can buy a day’s worth of various foodstuffs for $10.
You check out the barber: A haircut is $7, with a shave being $5 (or $10 for a shave and a haircut)
In terms of hunting supplies, you can buy a handmade combat knife for $15. There’s also an ancient bolt-action hunting rifle for sale for $50. The weapon is so old, it even uses gunpowder cartridges, with 5-round magazines on sale for $10 each. If you buy the rifle, you will never use it against a human being unless your life is in imminent danger. A package of hunting supplies, including rope, traps, and other such paraphernalia, is $10.
A fishing rod and bait goes for $15.
Say what you will about villages, but their prices beat the city by a mile.
You have $156. What do you buy, if anything?
>Food: $10/day
>Haircut: $7
>Shave: $3
>Haircut + Shave C-C-C-Combo: $10
>Knife: $15
>Rifle: $50
>Bullets: $10/ 5 rounds
>Hunting Supplies: $10
>Fishing Supplies: $15
---
> I'll take the most popular answers over the next 15 minutes.

>>42824685
>Haircut + Shave C-C-C-Combo: $10
>Fishing Supplies: $15
>Knife: $15
>Food: $10/day
x3

>>42824685
>Haircut + Shave C-C-C-Combo: $10
>Fishing Supplies: $15
>Hunting Supplies: $10
>Knife: $15
>Food: $10/day x3

Be sure to ask the shopkeeper if there is anywhere to sell surplus game

>>42824685
>Food 3 days $30
>Fishing supplies $10
>Knife $15

If the rifle is ineffective against confederate or other agents its best to just stick to a knife; practical, weapon in a pinch for stealthy things, and doesn't bother the locals overmuch with us having bought a gun. Fishing should be relaxing. Hunting is bullshit hard to live entirely on depending on the area even with trapping and foraging to supplement it. And that's assuming we even have experience with that. Fishing will be an easy method of getting a little food and keeping costs down without taking much effort.

>>42824814
>>42824709
I'm fine with wasting money on a haircut but a shave! We need that fugitive living on the edge grit, and facial hair is the most assured way of survival. As is shaving it off before a big showdown to show we're serious (while still leaving some manly stubble). I beg you reconsider!

>>42824920

My friend, while a strong argument to be sure I ask you to consider our first appearance in the town as a scruffy, curt, wayward individual. If we are going to be staying here any length of time then we need to have a new friendlier face and to be friendly with the locals. In a small town such as this what better person to be friendly with than the local barber who has the ears of everyone in town.

>>42824685
>Haircut + Shave C-C-C-Combo: $10
>Knife: $15
>Food: $10/day x 3
>Fishing Supplies: $15

>>42825118
>>42824857
>>42824814
>>42824709
>The top votes were a three way tie between knife, fishing supplies, and 3x days worth of food. Looks like we're staying hairy boys.
Well aren’t you stimulating the local economy.

You head around the stalls, purchasing:
- A rod and a box of fishing supplies
- Three days’ worth of food in three paper bags
- And a combat knife, which you tuck into one of your jacket pockets.
Your purchases cost you $60, leaving you with $96.

Supplies in hand, you head out of the marketplace. The children lounging around eye you lazily as you exit.

By the time you return to the trailer park and leave your purchases in the Wasp, the sun’s set and it’s time to head to Henry’s poker game. He never gave you a location, so you wander around the park, introducing yourself to fellow vagrants and asking for directions.

Eventually, you come across an old, grey-haired man sitting in a bathtub outside of his wreck of a ship, watching a news program on some sort of tablet computer.

“Henry’s poker game?” He asks. “Well shoot, I was just bout’ta head o’er there maself!”

You follow the grey-haired man through the maze of trailer-park paths, ending up in a small clearing. Henry and two other men are sitting at a small plastic table. It’s a warm autumn night and you can feel a gentle breeze blowing from the south. The light of a small lamp flickers, the site pitch black besides.

“Jay,” Henry says, raising an arm. “Glad you could join us. Come, have a seat. You too, Alllan.”

“Sorry fellas,” the grey-haired man says, taking a spot at the table. “Was watchin’ th’ news.”

“Well, tell us about it later,” Henry says. You sit down, taking a spot in between the grey-haired Allan and a skinny, well-dressed man with gold-rimmed glasses.

>>42825438
“Hans, you’re small blind. Jay, big blind,” the fat man says, dealing each player two cards. Gold-glasses drops $5 on the table, so you drop $10. As the flop is turned, Grey-hair speaks up.

“So y’all know about them rebels in Stronach?”

You raise your eyebrows, but say nothing.

“Who doesn’t? They’ve been stirring up shit the whole past year,” says the dark-sinned man sitting across from you.

“Yep, well them ones in Stronach, y’see,” says Grey-hair. “They kicked out the Confeds just yes’urday. Saw’t on th’ news.”

“Shit man, are you serious?” The dark skinned man scowls. “I’m supposed to fly down there tomorrow and pick up some product.”

“Not a chance,” says the man with gold rimmed glasses. Your eyes dart every which way as you attempt to keep track of the conversation. “The DSC has the place locked up tighter than a nun on a Sunday.”

“Damn. My buddy’s gonna be pissed,” says Dark-skin.

“Confederates going crazy all o’er the planet. Got one or two frigates floatin’ round here,” Grey-hair says.

“Two, and a Battlecruiser,” says Gold-glasses. “They got the place fully surrounded. No one’s getting out of here.” You wince at the words but no one sees behind your red-tinted goggles.

“Damn!” Dark-skin curses again. “I got another partner on New Pallas expecting me next week.”

New Pallas. Seems like the universe is conspiring to remind you of your goal.

“Was thinkin’, though,” says Grey-hair, “Things’ve only gotten real serious in th’ past two weeks. Ain’t that too short t’ get enough guys for in-sur-gen-cy? Whachu think, Jay?”

You shrug, electing to listen and learn.

>>42825461
“Say Allan,” Gold-glasses says. “I’ve been meaning to ask, have you lived here all your life?”
“Sure have,” Grey-hair says. “Well, not in this here trailer park. I done a lot of travelin’, but South Retale, born n’ raised.”
“Then, the days here are fifty-five standard hours, right?” Gold-glasses says. “So you mean two Retalan weeks, not Universal Standard weeks?”
“I ain’t stupid. Ain’t nobody can get nothin’ done in two weeks standard. When I say two weeks, I mean two weeks. And that’s my question. Kinda makes you think what like that fella Atter been plannin’ somethin’ since the beginnin’.”
“Sounds like a conspiracy theory to me,” says Gold-glasses. “How could-”
“Are you guys gonna play or what?” Fat-man barks. The other men break off their conversation and mutter their various agreements. He turns to you, and you nod.
>No way I’m autistic enough to simulate an entire poker game. Roll 3d100 to check your winnings (or losses). Rolling will last 15 minutes.

Rolled 90, 39, 47 = 176 (3d100)

>>42825489

Rolled 98, 74, 19 = 191 (3d100)

>>42825489
For Mother!

Rolled 39, 99, 11 = 149 (3d100)

>>42825489

Let's make up our losses

File: image[1].png (303 B, 245x50)

303 B PNG

>>42825624
>>42825532
>>42825498
Calculation: ((First player Roll + Second Player Roll +Third Player Roll – (50*3))*0.5 = Amount earned in game
You earn $38 in the first game, and $31 in the second game, but lose 36 in the third game. In total, you earn $33, bringing your funds up to $129.
…
An hour or so after the game, the five of you sit around a fire in the company of fellow weary drifters. A family huddles together for warmth; someone fries mystery meat. A few groups form on their own, sharing stories about their lifes. You and your poker group sit alongside eachother, listening to a one-legged man play an old folk song on a dingy guitar.

“My father was a sailor…
In the Rediscov’ry, lost.
My mother was a working girl,
Down on New Pallas.”

New Pallas, you think, New Pallas. That’s where you’d find Washington. You have to make it back there, and the sooner, the better.

“Oh, they’ll take me back to New Pallas,
To pay for what I’ve done.
They’ll tie me to a ball and chains,
Until my race is run.”

> >SCAVENGER QUEST: EPISODE 2: TENSIONS (PART III) END

>>42826017
That's it for today, folks. Sorry about the delay, I legitimately forgot about that interview I had and I hadn’t prepared for it at all. The next thread will be this weekend (I’ll post in WQT with an announcement)
As always, I'll stick around for a bit to answer questions if there are any. Let me know what you think about how the quest is going, what you like, what you don’t like and so on. Since this is the first thread with actual “alternate POVs”, I’m looking for feedback on those specifically. Do you read them? Do you like them? Should I keep doing them?

>>42826031
I liked them. If you feel you put too much effort into them or you find yourself making them begrudgingly then don't, but still they're a fun bit of background.

As for the quest I like it very much, its hard to say what works and what doesn't after only two threads. The tone of the quest seems very somber and rooted, I like that. Would like to see some more of our cold war background come into play, maybe be a bit more affecting on our condition then effected, more active less reactive etc. While I like the tone maybe a bit of lightheartedness would do it good too. Bretty good. Can't wait to shadowrun mysterious figures and drive the confederate intel officer looking for us insane, maybe get the hell out of dodge. Maybe be a reincarnation of Malcolm reyonalds from Firefly. Oh Given that mention just now I feel we could use more supporting cast and interesting characters. though I get that that was hard with the intro and the subsequent hiding from our pursuers.

>>42826586
oops four threads

>>42826586
Cool, thanks for the input. I actually think these alternate POVs are pretty important for understanding the overall plot, especially since we get a pretty limited POV from our MC's perspective.

Aye though, fow now, Scavenger Quest is a lonely one - but that might change in the future.

Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you this weekend!