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Joe Spivey's blog

 
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Paint job

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It is early evening back in New Flagstaff. Only a few shoppers are hanging around the vaults and vendors of the square, the only recognisable one being Dan Cross who is asleep next to the work bench he has set up. Joe's car is parked in front of the auctioneer's block and Rodney, the auctioneer, is leaning forward on it watching Joe who is engrossed in painting over the worst scratches from his recent trip. Joe is muttering to himself, cursing weirdos, kids, hillbillies and mercs with equal vehemence.

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Above and beyond

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What's brown and bald and screams a lot? Yup, Joe on a trail bike. On the plus side though the woodland creatures, even the big hairy ones with sharp teeth, got the hell out of the way.

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Deliverence

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A day, a night, and most of another day trapped in a car with anyone can strain a relationship. Let's just say there were tantrums, feelings were hurt and there were occaisional tears. Tuki, on the other hand was fine.

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Clear and present danger

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Joe drove away from Citadel like all the beasts of hell were on his tail.


In the back seat Tuki continued to protest and rattle on and on about duty and patients and this and that and God doesn't she ever shut up! Joe's hands tightened on the steering wheel and he chewed hard on the unlit and soggy mess that was his cigar.


He had no idea where he was going. The only thing he was familiar with in Deadfall was that cess-pit of a town where he had a few customers and some dodgy contacts. He stared out the windscreen at the desolate landscape. What an effing shithole. No, Deadfall wouldn't do, had to be somewhre else. Joe tuned out whatever it was Tuki was prattleing on about until it just became background noise. He needed to think.

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Rumour: Upsetting the balance.

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Joe fell out of Beau's slightly more sober than he would normally be at this time of night... ok, morning. Really? That time already?


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Mutant Powers in RP

One of the unique features of FE is its mutant powers. They work very well 'as is' for PvE and PvP but their use is a little bit hazy in RP and the potential for godmoding is huge. Take telekenesis for example. How can we determine what a player can do with this awesome power? Can they lift a spoon? A car? A house? The logical thing would be to say that you can't lift anything with your mind that you couldn't do physically. And then there is combat between players. How do you RP that?

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Browsing the adverts (Rumour)

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Hands clasped behind his back, Joe rocked backwards and forwards on his heels infront of the bar notice board perusing the bits of paper, torn off beer mats and the occaisional proffesional looking notice.


"Nothing new, nothing new, he's dead, nothing new, in jail,... hello, what's this?"


Making sure no one was around to see, Joe pulled out his glasses and put them on. He leaned closer to the small, neatly printed card in the bottom corner.


 


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Mixing business with pleasure (A Rumour)

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 It was a game he'd never grown tired of. Ever since he was a nipper in the playground. Ahhhh the simple pleasures. And let's face it, seeing how high you could piss up a wall was about as simple as it got.

Due to the lack of actual toilet facilities around the main square at New Flagstaff, Joe relieved himself against the wall of the container under the Union guard's platform. Of course, he wasn't the only one and the ground here was always muddy and the grass was an unusual shade of yellow.

 

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Well, It's kinda like an onion... y'know?

It started with that punch.

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Conversations in the wee small hours.

At a table in a smokey corner of the bar three drunks are discussing gangs.


Amos is a fat, ruddy faced man who sweats openly and his thick lips always seem to be disgustingly wet.


"Well, what about the... wossname, the White Crow?


Joe sits back in his seat, nursing his pint on his growing beer belly. He makes a great show of pondering the question, pulling deeply on his cigar as he looks to the nicotined stained ceiling while he gathers his thoughts.


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Ahhhhh Love. A dreadful bond.

((A less than serious post, but the situation just lent itself... I couldn't resist. (Bob, saw Ally at Spiderhill and fell in love with her.) Any similarity to actual in-game characters is purely coincidental.))

 

Bob, the fifteen year old hired by Miss Brown to collect components and 'keep an eye on what people were saying', entered the building and closed the door behind him. He pulled of his gasmask and tossed it into a corner. Leaning back against the door, he tilted his head backwards, banging it repeatedly against the solid wood.

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Lunchtime

Joe was sat back amid the crates behind the auctioneer in New Flag square. Feet up on a small crate, fingers interlocked across his broadening stomach and with a cool damp cloth shielding his face from the noon sun, Joe dozed. He was daydreaming about... well, lets not go into that, but he was enjoying it anyway.


The noise and chatter of the square was a comforting, familar background and lulled him further towards sleep. Or it would have been, except for the over-excited chatter of Billy, the new and rather too young, in Joe's opinion, Franklin's rider who had yet to learn Joe's ways. 'Joe's ways' being the accepting of small bribes to ensure first class treatment and less than close examination of his more dodgy parcels.

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Another ghost from the past

It was mid morning in New Flag. The sun was shining, the square was busy and just for a change Joe was happy. He was making a killing at the auction. Word had gotten around that a radio station would shortly be opening up and Joe had taken a chance and had hundreds of cheap crystal radio kits made. The receipts were pouring in and Joe was happily adding to the 'Chips In' column of his ledger.

"For fanden Skyld!" The loud, angry shout was accompanied by the sound of a fist hitting the nearby mailbox.

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Odds and Ends

Joe looked up to the heavens and prayed for patience while the guard on the door checked his name on the list.

"There's two thousand posters in these boxes mate. Do you have any idea how heavy two thousand posters are?"

"Sorry Joe. Mr Yellow said I have to check everyone..." He ran his finger down the list of names. "...here we are. Ok you can go on in." He stepped aside, holding the door open.

Joe pushed past him and went upstairs. Still holding the boxes, he kicked at the door to the other room.

"It's me! Open the fricking door will you!"

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Preparations

Joe was hammering in the last nail in the construction of the second copper cage. Flyp should have been here to do it, but he'd been banished back to Embry. At least he got out intact, Joe reflected.


He sucked on his bandaged and still throbing thumb as he surveyed his handiwork. It looked rather rickety, even he admitted that, but he had followed the simple plan to the letter.


"Never claimed to be a carpenter, did I?" He said to the empty room.


The cage was three meters by two meters... ish. Big enough for four people, if they didn't smell too bad. He dropped the hammer into the toolchest and sat down. Chances were, it would only have one occupant. He curled his finger through the handle of his new mug. It was a simple white mug, printed black on the outside with a big red heart on it. No replacement for his old one, but carefull lack of washing would soon break it in and give whatever drink it held that unique flavour of the old one.

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The other side of business

The radio crackled in his ear.

"Target is enroute to the location."

Joe's stomach flipped at the words and his heart began to pound. He responded automatically.

"Thank you. Make sure she is secured"

Just then he noticed the customer in front of him. The man looked at him quizically.

"I said, I'll take five thousand rounds of..."

Joe pushed past him.

"Piss off, we're closed."

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A New Hand

"Enjoy your drink."

With those words, Joe backed out of the door and made his way up the stairs and back into the fresh air of New Flagstaff's main square. Only when he was halfway back to his 'office' did he notice the sawn off shotgun still in his hand, his fingers white around the polished wood grip, his palm sweaty. It took him two attempts to holster it.

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Step Two... In the right direction

The following typed notice appears in those dark, smokey dives where persons with broken moral compasses tend to congregate... Joe has a bar tab in most of them.


((For those who cannot see the image, I've included the text))



coffe_stained_note.jpg


 


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A step in the right direction

He wasn't going to call her until he'd had his breakfast. You always needed to have your wits about you when dealing with Her and Joe was useless without at least having a nice strong cup of coffee inside him.

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Lifenet Hack: Home Upgrade

((I would be interested on reading people's thoughts on the marketplace item... 'Lifenet Hack: Home Upgrade' and it's place (if any) in RP.

(For those who have never seen/used this item, the Lifenet Hack: Home Upgrade allows lifenet to reclone you immediately, from wherever you are, to the FT bunker you have previously selected as 'Home'. The process has a 15 second timer and an accompanying emote (toon holds head in both hands).

Does this device have a place in RP or is it just a handy OOC way of FTing?

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More than one needle in the haystack

You'd think it would be fairly easy to find a girl with purple hair. Which just goes to show you how unobservant Joe is when it comes to women. Actually, forget Joe, make that men in general.

Therefore Joe was rather surprised when his questioning of the bar-keeps and vendors in and around Flag resulted in him having a shortlist that was, well... not exactly short.

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Working late

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((Continuation of 'Disturbed Sleep' and wrapping up the warehouse scene.))

When She arrived at the warehouse Joe and Flyp stood together like a pair of naughty schoolboys. She gave the pair a disparaging glance and went immediately to the thyratron. A quick examination confirmed that nothing had been distrurbed. She turned to look at Joe and Flyp.

"Sit down Flyp." She said, managing a smile as she patted the chair in front of the bench. Then she crossed to the chair at the desk and turned it to face the other. She sat down, crossing her hands on her knee.

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Disturbed sleep

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Joe was roused from his dreams by an incoming radio call. For a few moments he thought that his brain had seized up because the stream of gibberish he was hearing meant nothing to him. It was only after he had hauled himself into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed that he realised it was Flyp calling. Flyp was Chinese... or something like that, Joe didn't really care. What was important was that he worked for very little money.


Scratching his head and yawning as the non stop gabble continued in his ear, Joe waited for Flyp to pause for breath.


"Flyp..." The gobbledegook started again. "Flyp..." Joe took a deep breath "Flyp! Shut the fuck up!" The torrent of chinese ended suddenly. "Ok, now. Try that again in english... eeengleesh... savvy?"

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Wolfpack is on the prowl!

((The following poster is to be found in all the usual places and fastened to every tenth pole between Blain and Serenity Falls. If you stand still long enough to draw breath in New Flagstaff some kid will thrust one into your hands and run off.))



Wolfpack_001_copy.jpg

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Nemo me impune lacessit

It had been an unfortunate few days in Joe's life.


At last though, all the drama seemed to be over. Well almost over. Seeing Hyle Troy in Flag was still an uncomfortable experiance. But at least the bloody tax man was off his back.


Joe sat down thankfully to his supper. The stew having simmered gently for most of the day while he had been out smelled wonderfull to his still rather sore nose. He tucked in hungrilly.


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Reducing Overheads (epilogue)

The posters had been up for some hours now and Joe needed a drink.

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Reducing Overheads (part 2)

((The following poster pops up in all the usual places... New Flag, Hope, Serenity))



Adop Post

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Reducing Overheads

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Joe stood at the sink in his grubby apartment looking at his reflection in the cracked and damp-damaged mirror on the wall. He rubbed his stubbled chin, frowning. He had an important thing to do today and he wanted to make a good impression... but a shave... on a weekday? Instead, he splashed water over his face and rubbed a nicotine stained finger over his equally nicotine stained teeth . There, sorted.


Twenty minutes later he stood outside the Union Headquarters in New Flagstaff. He felt uncomfortable as he looked up at the forbidding ediface, this was not a Joe type of place. Too many nosy buggers wanting to ask questions about things he would rather not have questions asked about. Still, it had to be done. Slipping awkwardly into his 'Honest Citizen' persona, Joe strode confidently towards the doors.

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Isaac Makes Terrible Coffee

Joe walks into the wafflehouse in Hope juggling two large bags of groceries, part of the weekly supplies.


The place seems empty, but Joe knows all to well that that damn woman can sneak up on a chap all unawares like at any moment and ruin his day. He puts the bags down on the counter and exchanges a brief nod with Isaac.



He waits. More uncomfortable nodding with Isaac.


He waits some more. He checks his watch. He clears his throat and nods again to Isaac.


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Haven't posted this in a while, so I am.


 


((Just a reminder to everyone and also to let new and returning players know.


The Joe Spivey character is one of theose shady types who lives on the fine line between the forces of law and order and organised crime. As such he always has his eyes and ears open for interesting pieces of information.

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by Dr. Radut