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Joe Spivey's blog

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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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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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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))



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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


((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


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


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.



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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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by Dr. Radut