DeckCon 2056
To present this dialogue as closely as possible to how a player would experience it in-game, I’m including all of the options that a player would see each time a choice is presented.
For ease of reading, the selected dialogue option will always be sorted to the bottom of the list. It will also be preceded by an >angle bracket, and the resulting dialogue branch will be indented.
The Story So Far: The PLAYER and and party decker IS0BEL have infiltrated DeckCon 2056, Hong Kong’s premier decking (i.e., computer hacking) convention. Disguised as a member of the convention’s catering staff, Is0bel is sneaking her way through the venue’s exclusive upper floors.
Is0bel has plenty of technical and combat skill, but her social skills are comically poor. In light of this, the PLAYER is guiding her—Cyrano de Bergerac-style—from a hijacked kiosk on the Convention Room floor.
OPEN ON: IS0BEL, disguised as CATERING STAFF, infiltrating the UPPER FLOOR.
GM TEXT: [The hallway ahead is blocked by a trio of struggling bodies.
A blackout-drunk troll hangs slung between a pair of cursing security guards, one male and one female. As you watch, they struggle valiantly to drag her down the hallway.]
DRUNK TROLL: [The troll’s voice comes out in an inebriated roar.]
UNHAND me, you FOOLSH!
CONVENTION SECURITY CAPTAIN: [The older of the two guards, a middle-aged man with a pompadour haircut, struggles with all his might to keep his prisoner’s flailing arm constrained.]
Don’t let her go, Ho-yee! She has the strength of ten men!
CONVENTION SECURITY GUARD: Yes… sir…
[You recognize her as the guard who was standing by the employee entrance on the show floor.
How she got roped into troll-hauling duty is anyone’s guess.]
CONVENTION SECURITY CAPTAIN: [The security captain locks eyes with Is0bel. He barks out an order.]
CLEAR THE HALL!
[OPTION 1] PLAYER: [Say nothing.]
[OPTION 2] PLAYER: Great. Another roadblock.
>[OPTION 3] PLAYER: Well, this doesn’t look good.
IS0BEL: [Is0bel’s small voice chirps out, echoing your words.]
This doesn’t look good.
DRUNK TROLL: [With an exaggerated motion, the troll swings her head toward Is0bel.]
YOU, dwarf-girl! Help me! Theesh—
[She hiccups mightily. The sound reverberates in your ears.]
…Theesh DREKHEADSH want me to leave! Becaush I’m a TROLL!
IS0BEL: Uh… what’s happening here?
CONVENTION SECURITY CAPTAIN: None of your business. You’re not even hotel staff—you shouldn’t be back here at all!
GM TEXT: [He hugs the troll’s left arm to his chest with all of his strength, desperately trying to weigh her down.
She lifts his feet a few inches off of the floor, then slams him back down. He lets out an audible whimper.]
CONVENTION SECURITY CAPTAIN: Now clear… nnght… clear the way and report to your manager—quit fighting me, damn it!—before I talk to him for you!
CONVENTION SECURITY GUARD: [The former door guard stares at Is0bel. Recognition dawns on her face.]
Hey, I remember you. You said that you had to meet some caterers up on six.
What are you doing down here?
[OPTION 1] PLAYER: [Etiquette: Socialite] Tell them: “Sorry, I had to get more fuel canisters for the chafing dishes. We were told that you had some here.”
[OPTION 2] PLAYER: Tell her to back off. “I don’t have to answer to you, I’m not hotel personnel.”
>[OPTION 3] PLAYER: Okay. Say “I was just checking to see if anybody down here wanted a drink.”
IS0BEL: Just checking to see if anyone needed a drink.
You, uh… you want a mojito?
CONVENTION SECURITY CAPTAIN: [The man strains against the troll’s drunken efforts. His brow is beaded with sweat.]
You… aah! You shouldn’t—HOLD STILL!—be here. Not even to offer drinks!
DRUNK TROLL: [The troll looks down on Is0bel and issues a mush-mouthed plea.]
IGNORE these pigsh and HELP me! I’ll take the runt on the left, you take the right!
GM TEXT: [The troll bucks against the guards’ grasp, nearly breaking away from them.
They double down on their attempts to hold her.]
IS0BEL: [Is0bel stares into her PDA. She looks irritated.]
To hell with this. It’s a waste of time, and we’ve got a schedule to keep.
CONVENTION SECURITY GUARD: [Her hand moves toward her weapon.]
What do you mean? What schedule?
[OPTION 1] PLAYER: Say: “My work schedule. After I’m done here, I need to pull a double-shift at Uncle Tse’s House of Pork.”
[OPTION 2] PLAYER: Uhh… say that you misspoke? Quick, what rhymes with schedule?
[OPTION 3] PLAYER: To hell with it, light ‘em up. We’ll be up there to join you directly.
>[OPTION 4] PLAYER: [Intelligence: 5] Tell him: “The catering schedule. We’re serving dessert in 15 minutes.
IS0BEL: The dessert schedule.
We’re dishing out pie in fifteen.
GM TEXT: [The guard looks at her boss.
The security captain strains courageously against his captive’s flailing arm, oblivious to everything but his own struggle.]
CONVENTION SECURITY GUARD: …Look, just hurry back to the kitchen and get out of our hair.
[She steps aside to let Is0bel pass.]
[OPTION 1] PLAYER: That was close.
[OPTION 2] PLAYER: I can’t wait until we’re done with this. I’m tired of walking you through this crap.
>[OPTION 3] PLAYER: Good job, Is0bel.
IS0BEL: [There is a brief pause, then she mutters a response under her breath. The mic barely picks it up.]
This is exhausting. No more improvisation for me, I’m done with this. From now on, I’m your parrot—just tell me what to say and I’ll say exactly that.
[OPTION 1] PLAYER: If that’s the way you wanna play it.
[OPTION 2] PLAYER: All right. Sure. I’ll do all the heavy lifting, then, I guess.
>[OPTION 3] PLAYER: After what almost happened in the elevator, I think that’s a good call.
—“DeckCon 2056,” Shadowrun: Hong Kong
OPEN ON: IS0BEL, disguised as CATERING STAFF, infiltrating the UPPER FLOOR.
GM TEXT: [An impressive-looking man in a starched white coat blocks the hallway.
He turns, and you recognize the familiar Pastry Magic & More! insignia on his lapel. He fixes his gaze on Is0bel, and the expression on his face is anything but happy.]
CATERING MANAGER: What are you doing back here? We went over this in the staff meeting this morning—*I’m* the one who’s covering this area.
The VIPs are to be handled by managers ONLY. You should be on the convention floor!
[OPTION 1] PLAYER: I got turned around. These hotels all look the same to me.
>[OPTION 2] PLAYER: I know, sorry. They sent me back here, but I think it was a prank.
IS0BEL: “I know, sorry. They sent me back here, but I think it was a prank.”
[Looks like she was telling the truth after her encounter with the guards. She’s repeating everything you say verbatim.]
CATERING MANAGER: And you fell for that?! You had *specific instructions* to stay on the show floor.
[OPTION 1] PLAYER: I must’ve missed the meeting—I didn’t get those instructions.
>[OPTION 2] PLAYER: I didn’t know. I’m new here.
IS0BEL: “I didn’t know. I’m new here.”
CATERING MANAGER: Yeah, no shit. I don’t recogniz—
CUT TO: THE CONVENTION FLOOR, where the PLAYER is using a hijacked DEMO KIOSK to give IS0BEL instructions.
CONVENTION GOER: [You become dimly aware of a figure looming behind you in the convention hall.]
New here? You must be joking, man. You’ve been on that kiosk for twenty minutes now!
PLAYER: Wait, excuse me? What?
CONVENTION GOER: [He leans in. Gets in your face. You can taste the onions on his breath.]
I said that it’s time to get off the damned demo kiosk! You’ve been hogging it for way too long, and there’s a line here!
[OPTION 1] PLAYER: Sorry. I’m still using it.
[OPTION 2] PLAYER: Back down, man. You’ll get your turn.
>[OPTION 3] PLAYER: Just give me five more minutes, and it’s all yours.
CUT TO: THE UPPER FLOOR, where the IS0BEL is still being confronted by the CATERING MANAGER.
IS0BEL: “Just give me five more minutes, and it’s all yours.”
CATERING MANAGER: What’s all mine? What are you talking about?
You aren’t even one of our employees, are you? Do I need to get security?
CUT TO: THE CONVENTION FLOOR.
CONVENTION GOER: I *said,* that’s enough! I’ve been following the devs of this software for *months* now, and I traveled seventeen hours to try it out myself.
You do *not* get to tell me that I flew here for nothing. Get the hell off the kiosk or I’m calling security!
[OPTION 1] PLAYER: Calm down and let’s talk about this. This doesn’t have to get violent.
[OPTION 2] PLAYER: Get out of my face before I break your damned nose.
[OPTION 3] PLAYER: Oh, to hell with this. Change of plans, Is0bel—we’re going loud.
>[OPTION 4] PLAYER: Be my guest. I work for this hotel’s owner. The security team is going to take my word over yours.
CONVENTION GOER: Oh yeah? And what do you do here, exactly?
[He stands, hands on hips, his jaw thrust out.]
Tell me why I have to wait on you.
CUT TO: THE UPPER FLOOR.
IS0BEL: “Be my guest. I work for this hotel’s owner. The security team is going to take my word over yours.”
CATERING MANAGER: You work for the owner? So, then, you’re not a Pastry Magic employee?
[He sounds skeptical.]
So, then… why are you wearing one of our uniforms?
[OPTION 1] PLAYER: I’m here to check up on the vendors at the show—tech vendors, the catering crew, all of it. To make sure that the reputation of our venue isn’t tarnished.
>[OPTION 2] PLAYER: I’m here to gauge customer satisfaction with the show. We’re trying to decide whether to host DeckCon again in ‘57. Collecting candid interviews with convention-goers and subcontractors is part of that.
CUT TO: THE CONVENTION FLOOR.
CONVENTION GOER: [The decker continues to stare, hands on his hips.]
…Huh. Well, uh… did I pass? I mean, did you get what you need from me?
I really want to get my hands on that software, and I’m not leaving until I do… but I don’t want my eagerness to get in the way of the show coming back next year.
CUT TO: THE UPPER FLOOR.
IS0BEL: “I’m here to gauge customer satisfaction with the show. We’re trying to decide whether to host DeckCon again in ‘57.”
[She levels her gaze at the catering manager.]
“Collecting candid interviews with convention-goers and subcontractors is a part of that.”
CATERING MANAGER: Was that what this was? Some sort of weird interview?
And I suppose that you were wearing one of our uniforms to throw me off balance, that kind of thing. To see if I’d make a scene.
IS0BEL: [She nods.]
Mm-hmm.
CATERING MANAGER: Well… I didn’t. Please make a note of that in your report.
CUT TO: THE CONVENTION FLOOR.
GM TEXT: [In the convention hall, the decker that you were arguing with backs away to a respectable distance.]
CUT TO: THE UPPER FLOOR.
GM TEXT: [The catering manager steps aside to let Is0bel pass.]
—“DeckCon 2056,” Shadowrun: Hong Kong
