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Joe Spivey's blog

 
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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.))



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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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Joe In His Cups

It is the early hours of the morning in Beau's Tavern, Joe's after work watering hole. A good deal of the amber nectar has sluiced its way through Joe's less than perfect dentistry and his bloodstream is now luxuriating in an over abundance of drinks earned from his tall stories and endless gossip.


The room, and his drinking companions, have become nothing more than a blurred mish-mash of background colour and uninteligable noise. There is a lull in the conversation. That point in the flow of words where each participant is, for a few seconds, lost in their own thoughts. It is Joe who breaks the silence. He raises a finger.


"I saw a letter today, genelmem. From Lost...." He searches for the word, gives up. "... thingy. To Hyle.... wotsername. Saying she can have Victor... no, VEKtHaur all to her li..(hic). Her li...(hic). Her liddle self."


His three companions look first at each other and then back at Joe.


"Who's Lost?"

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Spivey's Independant Traders Handbill

Another handbill being handed out by an army of grubby urchins to anyone who stands still long enough.


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Reluctant Messenger

Joe was whined at by a 'client' to deliver this to Subdane as a matter of extreme urgency. So Joe waits until he is absolutely sure nobdy sees him doing it and shoves it under Sub's windscreen wiper. He walks away happy, after all... chips is chips.


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... is made of this

Joe was up early the following morning. Actually, that's not true. Joe hadn't slept at all, nor had some of his cronies, but at least they had been well paid.

During the night Joe had had made a couple of hundred handbills. Crude and rushed though they were, they were sufficient for the job.

 

REWARD

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"Memories... are made of this."

It was late when Joe arrived back in Flag. He was tired, and aching from sitting all day in his car keeping an eye on the kid. At last the wafflehouse had closed and she had gone back to Hyle's house with her and her latest boyfriend. Joe waited until the house was in darkness.  She would be safe enough for the night. Trying not to think about how much trade he had lost today Joe turned the key in the ignition and then made his weary way home.

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Silence is Golden

A couple of days after the letter thing, Joe was emptying the kitchen trash when he found the tiny, skinned body of a kitten at the bottom of the pail.


He buried it in the alley.


The incident was never mentioned.

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Occupatio Interuptus

It was a normal day for Joe. Woke up at the crack of dawn, then spent  five minutes coughing his lungs into life like some old and neglected diesel engine. Then a quick breakfast (full English of course... or as close as one could get) followed by the first cigar of the day and a pint mug of tea while he went over yesterday's figures. Then it was off to the auctioneer to see what had sold and what hadn't from the previous day.


After he had collected the receipts he sat down in his packing-crate 'office' and worked out what he would need to buy to replace his stock. All a normal day so far. This changed as he walked to his car.

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Bloody Soup!

The two men stood outside a lone farmhouse on the outskirts of  the glorified garbage tip known as Needle Eye. For the 'Haves', behind their wall and their guards, life wasn't too bad... not great, but not too bad at all. For the 'Have Nots' life was defined simply as surviving from one day to the next. But non of this concerned the two figures on the little hillside. Well, except for the smell. Not all of which could be blamed on the town though.

Joe flicked through his copius notebook trying to decipher his hurriedly scribbled notes from the night before.

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Against the Grain

Joe is sitting in an almost empty Beau's at mid day enjoy a liquid lunch.


The barman, between scratching his buttocks and wishing it was his day off, was listening with proffesional interest to Joe's ramblings.


Joe neither realised or particularly cared one way or the other.


"A locksmith? Where the hell am I going to find a bleedin locksmith in this burg... in any burg?" He drains his pint and indicates with a nod that his empty glass needs a refil. "Not only that, but even looking for one kind of goes against the grain, know what I mean?"


The barman nods on cue, wondering if the new barmaid actually did that or if it was just wishfull thinking on the part of the guys. He glanced at the customer, who was still droning on.


Joe half emptied the refilled glass, wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his duster, then belched loudly before continuing.

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A New Biginning?

Joe has been spreading the word. Talking to people with contacts. Even travelling to Picus to post notices.


Vekthaur, the retired Baron of Le Cartel has come out of retirement and started a new family. "The Vegas family"... and he is recruiting.


He is also looking for specialists. Accomplished scientists and technicians who are wanted for a special project. Vekthaur will pay well for their services, but if you are not top class... an expert in your field, don't bother.

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Faning the flames

The heavily armoured man stood uninterested by the mailbox reading a letter. Not that his lack of interest or even the acknowledgment of his existance worried Joe in the slightest. He carried on with his story anyway.


""Would you believe it? Last night some arseholes attacked the gas station on the north of New Flagstaff with firebombs. I had a nice little discount going there too. It's amazing what a few indiscreet photo's will get ya. Anyway, no damage was done as the guards rushed in and extinguished the flames, but then one of those nine bloody great wind turbines comes crashing down, completly destroyed it was. When the plod got there they found these words were painted on the crashed turbine thingy:"


Joe holds his hand up as if framing each word...

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Desperatly Seeking....

When Joe finally peeled himself out of his home made yellow hazmat suit in Beau's that night he caused his own mini evacuation. Not through any fear of contamination by the nerve gas that some nutter had released in the square you understand. No, this was definately more to do with what happens when you encase Mrs Spivey's maloderous son in layers of plastic and rubber and leave him to bake for several hours in the hot sun.


Eventually, the customers drifted back. Their need of alcohol overcoming the desperate messages their noses were sending to their brains. Aside from the watering eyes of those in closest proximity to Joe, things got back to normal. After all there was so much beer to comsume and only so many hours in which to do it.


Later in the evening Joe remembered the piece of paper given to him by the figure in the full body, state of the art, hazmat suit some hours earlier. Downing the last of his pint he began to wander around the other patrons.

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Joe at Work

Seems one of the Union guards just got a tee wee too drunk talking to Joe and another drunkard. Joe had made sure the ale flowed freely, something he considers as a legitimate business expense in a situation like this.



"Ya it's cool..." the guard slurred. "Those vigilantes are back in town and we have less work now, they even shortened our patrol hours."


"More time for beer eh?" The other drunk chimed in.

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Joe does a Clouseau

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The sun was just starting to poke its firey head over the horizon when Joe carefully poked his head out of the doorway of the Flagstaff Tap. The Tap was not one his usual haunts, they tended to serve far too much food and far too little beer for his liking. He was there this early early in the morning for another reason. He was there for guilty pleasures and he didn't want to be seen.


Annoyingly there was more than just the Union Patrol on the street this morning. Two heavily armoured enforcer types had just passed the door of the Tap. Big guys, dangerous guys... Joe almost dropped his cigar. Holding hands guys? This was priceless, definately a two pinter, maybe even a whisky if he could get a bit more on the two.

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Big Trouble in Little... (no that doesn't work). Shit Heading Fanwards in Hope Springs (there we go)

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I just happened to overhear... not that i was listening of course, you know me... an odd little snippet in the old watering hole last night.


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Gossip, Rumours and News Reports

((Just a reminder to everyone and also to let new and retyrning 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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News from Plateau... besides it being rather sandy.

Rating:

*Joe is in Beaus, swopping gossip for drinks as usual.*


I was having a chinwag with one of those Franklin Rider fellers this morning. Now I'm not saying they 'ave what you might call an 'un-natural' relationship with their horses, but there are motorbikes out there they could use... Just saying.


Anyway I was just enquiring about special rates for regular customers like me, the bastard said no by the way, and we got to talking about all the murders and wotnot that have been going on lately. Most of them I knew about but this one was new even to me.

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Bar-room Murmurings

Disturbing rumours have been doing the rounds, *sniff* well disturbing if your a Vista or a Tech I suppose. Anyway, seems like their scientists have been turning up missing. Not just from around here too. I was talking to this one bloke who was from... I dunno, some dump down south, and they've had the same thing happening.


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Explosion in Ravens Peak

Early morning travellers coming in from Raven's Peak are telling stories of an explosion of 'unknown nature 'in a three story building right in front of the Franklin Raiders office. No one seems to know if there have been any casualties.


Mind you, if you ask me, a few explosions in that town can't do anything but improve the place.

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