wishingsock ([personal profile] wishingsock) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2014-01-26 11:34 am

(no subject)

Welcome to the future.
Unfortunately, it's not all it's cracked up to be.

The very definition of the term cyberpunk is "high tech, low life." These are worlds defined by poverty or absolute control, a dog-eat-dog reality where man's best interest is to cut his or her losses and look out for only number one. The lines between organic and synthetic slowly blurs more and more, until the distinction becomes nigh-impossible to make. Friends become enemies, enemies tentative allies, and above all watches the Big Dog, silently pushing the world to their every whim. Does one wish to bow out and let come what may, capitalize on the tyrants' cruelty, join their cause, or fight back?

Your life is not your own. What you do about it makes all the difference, though.

The Cyberpunk meme 2.0


This, my friend, is what cyberpunk is about.


To get started, you can create a scenario for yourself, or merely go to the Random Number Generator and choose a pre-made one for you and your partner, or you can even leave your comment blank and let respondents pick, I'm not going to tell you how to decide, it's just a meme, calm down.



1. You or your partner (or both) is a hacker who just stumbled across the biggest information leak of your lives. This could make or break the two of you, if you know how to handle the consequences of your following action.

2. In the real world, people wouldn't waste their spit on scum like you. But in the net? You're a god, peddling information and resources better than Wal-Mart. Just be careful who you talk to. Not everyone thinks what you do is a good thing.

3. The corporations, the government, the gangs, the machines. It doesn't matter who it is, but you're tired of their interference in your life. Are the two of you ready to take them on?

4. You're the king or queen of your private enterprise. You have it all: A private army, AIs capable of placating the masses, connections even better than the government, and a demeanor that could charm Satan himself. However, there's still that little nuisance known as the underdog, and they're knocking at your door.

5. You just got that newest drug shipment in, and it promises to be the biggest trip in your life. It promises to make you stronger, faster, smarter, and sexier, all in one hit. The only thing left is to try it.

6. People are disappearing, and no one seems to notice or care, except you and your partner. The only thing? They're also your worst enemy.

7. You've just been kidnapped, and unfortunately, your partner's the kidnapper. What's their motive? Can you escape?

8. Welcome to the lab, o curious traveler. I have a wonderful special running today. Just sit down and we'll begin the body modding! Ever feel like your eyes weren't up to snuff? Or maybe you'd like your brain to run a little faster, or make your entire body into a Swiss Army knife. I can do that for you, buddy. So what'll it be? Become more like a machine, or gain a little enhancement and become a metahuman?

9. Your first memory is waking up to the sound of scientists running off status checks. You're an AI, an android, a clone, or something else entirely that the masses hate or just don't consider human. How does your partner react? Are you sentient? Please, sir. I only ask that if you decide to rampage, please don't sing "Daisy Bell."

10. Sort of related to the above prompt, you or your partner were created, or experimented upon, and have become much more than you once were. You have become this close to attaining godhood, and the Secret Police, La Cosa Nostra, or whoever is pulling the strings have made you their right hand. How does this affect you or your partner?

Anything I forgot, go ahead and play it. Make your own world, your own personalities. Have fun!
more_than_words: (and under wild blue skies)

Tifa Lockheart/FFVII

[personal profile] more_than_words 2014-01-27 07:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[ota to all but the trying it part of 5. No smut. Tifa's easily someone that works the gray areas of society. Ideas could have her a secret broker of information or items behind the bar front, a safe house, the 'legal' front for a gang that does work outside of government restrictions, or even a hacker of large corporations, specializing in breaking and entering their sub-systems owner of a small mafia run pizza delivery service. Open equally to other ideas as well.]
Edited 2014-01-27 20:14 (UTC)
eightlazylegs: A brown octopus crawling up a rock (Default)

Re: Tifa Lockheart/FFVII

[personal profile] eightlazylegs 2014-01-27 08:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[Possible first contact with a new broker and/or having to stage a RL rescue of said broker from an impending government raid?]
more_than_words: (on this night)

[personal profile] more_than_words 2014-01-27 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)
[yay! I was eying you for tags when I wake up again. I love both of these ideas so yes please to the 'both' option. I'm about to catch some sleep but I'll be back on later tonight if you're okay with a little delay before I tag back.]
eightlazylegs: A painting of an orange octopus in a tuxedo (Dapper)

[personal profile] eightlazylegs 2014-01-28 02:39 pm (UTC)(link)
It's not just humans they're modding these days. While most of the country is playing with social networking, a mercenary group of scientists have genetically engineered something that can interface with computers on a level far beyond human comprehension.

Subject 84 of the Lovecraft Project, like his brothers and sisters before him, is an octopus. His mind has been heavily altered to raise his intelligence and his lifespan has been artificially extended far beyond the normal one to two years expected for his species. Cybernetic implants allow him to speak and survive outside water, while the access ports on his body can link up with the systems designed to serve him. The plan was to create a hacker made to order, a codemaster utterly subservient to his human masters and devoid of any higher goals.

The plan lasted six months before the Lovecraft Project got bored and left. Those who didn't die in the escape found homes in the niches of society, using their inhuman mental architecture to bend the net as they pleased. Hermes himself has a nice little uptown apartment and a hired human for those annoying moments when something must be done face-to-face. He turns a good profit off selling his services as a "puzzle-solver" and information harvester, and holds no fear of the consequences.

A distress call comes in to Tifa at about five in the morning.
more_than_words: (and though at times a thread may break)

[personal profile] more_than_words 2014-01-29 10:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Tifa's multi-faceted in what exactly her job entails. It's a little bit of this and a little bit of that, everything from fencing stolen goods to playing go-between when it comes to brokers and dealers in the information racket. Mostly though, if she was going to get a job description for her ragtag marketability, it would simply be 'guide'. She can get someone in and she can get them out and whether that's finding someone that knows the holes in security walls in cyberspace for them or the much more physical needs of getting someone out of a tight place and often into a new life, she's the go-to for people that are in the know. It's not something she advertises, at all, in fact, it's something she goes out of her way to avoid acknowledging in favor of simply 'information broker' but there's always someone that knows someone that just might know someone that can help a body in need out of a bind.

When the call comes in, she's already halfway toward waking, fighting her way out of an overload dream brought on by too much time spent jacked into the grid. It's an unpleasant surprise when she opens her eyes enough to see the hand blindly flailing for the comm isn't pixels. The fingers still work fine though and she's already keying in the code that unlocks the cycle to open its bucket, ready for an info dump of where, why, how and how much. Sometimes it comes in text, sometimes vid, sometimes voice but her response of opening the bucket in the first place tells the caller that she's operating and that she's already on her way. In less than five minutes, she will be.
eightlazylegs: A brownish octopus walking and pointing (Walking)

[personal profile] eightlazylegs 2014-01-30 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Hermes is known for leaving incredibly short messages, using the minimum number of words necessary to get his point across. It's a trait that's practically his signature. Therefore, when the message goes out it's a set of coordinates followed by an exclamation point and the word 'help' in large print. The part where it's a government raid and they've already picked up his human proxy can wait until further notice.

When she gets there she'll find she's behind a sushi restaurant. It's a small, cheap one that isn't as hygienic as it could be and the entire place reeks of fish. A set of pings will lead her to a garbage bin filled with the food refuse that the restaurant judged unfit for human consumption...a bar that's quite low indeed.
more_than_words: (when day cannot exist without a night)

[personal profile] more_than_words 2014-01-30 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
She'd ended up in stranger, dirtier places - but she's still glad she's wearing the water proof, thick soled and high-ankled boots as she sloshes her way into the back alley. there are already eyes on the scene, she picked up that much with both a few surprisingly low tech scans and her own set of eyes and the unsettling thing is that they're good. Really good. If she didn't know specifically what to look for she would have never found them and she's fully aware that she just might have not found them all. In her short skirt and crop top, face painted in neon distracting makeup (that just happens to grid off recorders though she doesn't look like a rescue mission of any kind. She looks like any other night walker, complete with color shifting hair out to either find a john or a quick step out of the rain and maybe both. One of the reasons she's a good extractor is because she so often goes low tech - and no one these days thinks low tech any more. There's no one in the actual alley itself, no one she needs to introduce to another low tech method of hers that involves the metal knuckles that only look like they're for show on her fingerless gloves and that tells her that, whatever net is closing in, it's not specific yet.

They may get out of this without explosives.

The message has her interest though. She's heard of an interfacer that succinct but they're more ghost than reality, someone so good they're everywhere and no where and anyone and no one. The reputation is amazing and their game is good enough to keep it that way and Tifa's not exactly sure who she expects to find but the likelyhood of it being a scrawny twelve year old genius that hasn't been caught and registered yet is high in her mind except for the utter lack of talk. Most of the really amazing interfacers like to talk. If the message really is 'Hermes'... she's not sure. If he's not a totty old ascot wearing gentleman with a cup of tea in his hand she thinks she's going to be terribly disappointed.

The pings are simple vibrations on the inside of one glove's palm, hitting faster the closer she gets and, again, despite some of the places she's been, her face still winches as she pulls open the refuse bin and the double dose of the already saturated alley hits her. No help for it though. Under chummed up, rotting fish bits is probably the last place anyone would want to look and the best place to hide for easy extract. Silence is better than verbally saying anything and even this close, touch is safer than trying to send back along the pinging signal if there are unfriendlies closing in on her the way the hair on the back of her neck, and the small dropped motion sensors she's scattered in her aimless seeming ramble back here are signaling the wires in her other glove. Low tech it is. She holds the lid open with one hand and thrusts her other into the slippery mess, going in up to the elbow and hoping her extract isn't too much deeper than that. Her thickly latex under gloves don't go much above her elbow.
eightlazylegs: A white octopus in a clear glass bowl (Eyes)

[personal profile] eightlazylegs 2014-01-30 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
A tentacle snaps out from the mass of slick fish guys and wraps around her wrist. What had previously seemed like a rejected hunk of calimari abruptly shifts from dull grey to bright orange and looks up at her with slitted eyes.

"Lift." It's a low, burbling voice muffled by the refuse around its source. As the octopus shifts she can see the data ports on the back of its head. "Hurry."

Hermes knows her face. He can feel the vibrations, he knows her techniques, and nobody would be hunting around in a bin like this if someone hadn't directly told them to do it. And if she is government...well, her fingers are very close to his beak right now.
more_than_words: (I am full)

[personal profile] more_than_words 2014-01-30 09:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Her eyes go huge in her face when one of the fish bits actually moves and it's only long ingrained training that keeps her from instinctively jerking her arm away when something alive wraps around it. To her credit, the bin stays firmly in place and she doesn't try to make a quick exit.

Still, talking fish is a new one, even for her.

Or, talking octopus, it registers belatedly. There are fairy tales, about talking animals and in none of them does anyone ever question the animal or it's motives, they just go along with whatever's being proposed - because it's a talking animal and of course that's the kind of thing you don't argue with. Tifa's not entirely at that point but there's still something ridiculously deeply embedded that has her doing what the octopus asks, not entirely unaware that part of the motivation is simply getting her hand out of that mess.

She's a lot stronger than she looks. There's controlled muscle behind that gentle extract.

She sees the ports but - octopus? It's still trying to wiggle its way through her conscious. For her part, she can't for the life of her imagine someone using an octopus to try to trap her. It still needs clarity as her free hand quietly closes the lid and then hovers under the clinging creature, unsure if she should support it or not.

It's... an octopus.

"Hermes?"
eightlazylegs: A brown octopus crawling up a rock (Default)

[personal profile] eightlazylegs 2014-01-31 12:17 am (UTC)(link)
Always that moment of confusion. It's getting annoying at this point.

"Yes," snaps the octopus. As he's pulled up he tows a plastic bag with him. Hermes threads the loops around her fingertips and then throws himself into the empty bag, curling up into a blobby ball.

"Leave fast. Talk elsewhere." Despite the urgency his message is delivered in the same monotone. If she carries him like this she'll look like she's taking something unsavory home for dinner.
more_than_words: (and in the golden blue)

[personal profile] more_than_words 2014-02-01 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
Her eyes stay wide and there's something unsettling in an instinctive and ancestral way about the use of so many appendages but she holds still despite that at the rapid exit plan he's got. She only blinks once as the bag is suddenly weighing in her hand and she starts walking almost automatically, the same pace she had coming in, a circle around to the other side of the building.

She's - carrying an octopus.

A talking octopus.

In a take out bag.

She's carrying one of the best hackers in the world -

in a take out bag -

because he's an octopus.

Luckily the situation takes over before she has time to really think about it too hard and she's back to what she does best. Getting her target out of a tight spot before the people after them even know she was there. It's as much blending in and being exactly what anyone watching expects to see out and about at this hour as knowing what to watch for and who to watch out for. She walks right past at least two of them with her 'I'm off the clock but you never know if the price is right enough to convince me otherwise' saunter and it's a long time before she can finally tell, as sure as anyone ever can, that she's out of the net that was slowly closing in on that diner.

It was an awfully large net, with a lot of layers to it. The why of that is pretty obvious.

Usually she doesn't take a client back to her own place. There are safe houses stashed randomly around the city she uses instead. This? This is a special occasion however and while anything can backfire, it seems like a low risk. The octopus escaping from the big corporation or government or both that's after him isn't likely to talk to them long enough to give her away. So she angles off and somewhere between a fueling station where her makeup disappears and so do the fiberoptics in her hair and a second exit from the way she came in, she ends up back at her closed down bar, letting herself in the back door with its multiple locks. The bag she then gingerly sets down on the back bar counter, next to the sink and lets go.

Does he need water? Even if he does she wouldn't risk city water on him. If she doesn't have salt water would bottled water help? Not that it seems entirely polite to ask. Yet.
eightlazylegs: A set of wings and a few orange tentacles on the surface of water (Wings)

[personal profile] eightlazylegs 2014-02-02 03:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Hermes does take a slight squirt of water for himself to wash off the dust and much of the outside city. His skin is engineered to be far less porous than that of his unenlightened kin but he still feels kind of icky.

The color of his skin settles to a mossy, speckled green as he finally allows himself to relax. He climbs back up out of the seat and perches on the counter with his tentacles curled underneath him.

"Am Hermes. Am government bioengineering project, "Lovecraft Project", create inhuman consciousness for codebreaking and other puzzles." A little ripple of his body, as if a shrug. "Escaped, set up life and proxies. Easy not to be a human if ordering everything online. But info leaked, don't know where. Government found me. Had to clear out fast, proxy dropped me off in garbage."

He'd needed someone he could trust--that is, someone who would be as harmed by the government as he would be if they got their hands on him--and someone who was smart enough not to get caught. Tifa fit the bill. Hermes shifts, curling and uncurling the tips of his tentacles as speckles move across his skin. "Need new home, new tech. Have info, can trade for goods."
more_than_words: (we laughed and laughed and laughed)

[personal profile] more_than_words 2014-02-05 08:44 pm (UTC)(link)
By the time he's talking she's adjusted, a little at least, to the situation. She's seen a lot of strange things in her time - but this is new on a whole different level in a lot of ways. In other ways however it's entirely the same. Someone in a bind, needing her help. It's a lot easier to focus past tentacles and on the need with something like that and Tifa settles herself down on one of her bar stools to take in the information and listen.

Lovecraft? Well, at least the name is right and she supposes, if you were looking for a mind that would think outside the box, an octopus was probably as far removed from a human brain when it came to problem solving as you could get and still communicate.

...so he's not exactly a dapper little man with a monocle. Somehow she's still not disappointed.

And it sounds like he had a pretty sharp set up before things leaked too.

She resists the urge to run fingers over his skin to see what it feels like. That would be not only unprofessional but impolite. ...even if it really is tempting. Instead she nods.

"Thank you," for the information. It was more than necessary and she takes it as a form of currency, up front as well as manners on his part. She turns her hand on the bar, palm up and even though he already knows, introduces herself anyway out of politeness as well.

"I'm Tifa. I'm glad I could help you."

And she honestly is. It's dual prong, as much satisfaction in helping someone in need as thwarting the big corporations and government. Then she gets down to business. "I can do that. Vetting a new proxy will be the longest part but I have a couple people in mind to start. The first question is do you need a link up? Is there anything still running you need to shut down before anyone else gets to it?"
eightlazylegs: A brown octopus crawling up a rock (Coral)

[personal profile] eightlazylegs 2014-02-07 02:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"All on-site wiped." Hermes shifts, indicating a port behind his mantle. "Need to access remote files, update information. Also saline bath ideal."

A sudden blort of water came from his siphon, a snort of derision. "Lost whole setup. Apartment, gone. Have to rebuild from scratch. Others have resources, unsure if willing to trade." You'd never get an octopus doing anything out of the kindness of its heart, but they did understand each others' priorities the best.
more_than_words: (you've gotta stop sometime soon)

[personal profile] more_than_words 2014-02-08 04:58 am (UTC)(link)
Cross-species communication is probably always going to have hits and misses considering the difference in the natural way they express things but... Tifa thinks she understands that blort, as startling as it is and her lips twist a bit ruefully, sympathetically. She understands losing everything and having to start all over again. Holes fill in quickly here. Everyone's trying to find ways to make ends meet.

"We'll get you back up and running. You'll see." First things first. She stands up and after a moment's hesitation, more on whether it would be taken as insulting than reluctance to touch now that she's aware, she holds out her open hands, fingers spread and palms up for him. "You can use one of my jacks. They're as well protected as I can get but if you wanted to upgrade the security while you were on - it would probably help us both."

It's thieves honor she's going to have to trust that he won't slip any private spyware in and even then she's going to have the best she knows go over it after he's gone anyway but... if Hermes wants to insert a tracer, she doesn't know if even her best hacker would find it. He's a legend.

"While you're on, I'll see what I can do about getting some saline." And not doing it through any channels that would alert anyone on the look out for an octopus. She's going to ignore how strange that thought is. "Tomorrow we can tap some of my contacts and see about starting to reestablish. I'll get you the proxy candidate files tonight though.

... how much sleep do you need?"