Phantom Tollbooth

The Phantom Tollbooth “If something is there, you can only see it with your eyes open, but if it isn’t there, you can see it just as well with your eyes closed. That’s why imaginary things are often easier to see than real ones.” Overview The Phantom Tollbooth is a hypertech powered, trinary-deck servered, virtual reality wonderland in the Glendale Tool Company mage chantry. Utilizing a number of upgraded VR setups which include both headsets and full body haptic feedback suits, the Phantom Tollbooth's purpose is to allow access to the Digital Web for multiple people at a time. This is available to both mortals and mages who have access to the Glendale Tool Company chantry. It also has an integrated Digital Web Warzone which functions as a training room, open and available to all Tradition mages. The Phantom Tollbooth Warzone has multiple environments in which training scenarios can proceed with AI enemies of differing types and difficulties that can be entered into the training program by anyone configuring the game, either inside or outside of the Digital Web. The world is a strange, weird place with different types of dangers both inherent and external. The training rooms allow the Tradition mages to prepare for a number of different types of dangers. The upgraded equipment, connections and non-existent latency allows Players to eliminate the normal +1 difficulty penalty that usually applies to Digital Web visitors who are only connected through VR gear. This eliminated penalty only applies to playing within one of the Phantom Tollbooth Warzone environments. “‘You must never feel badly about making mistakes,’ explained Reason quietly, ‘as long as you take the trouble to learn from them. For you often learn more by being wrong for the right reasons than you do by being right for the wrong reasons.‘” Description The Phantom Tollbooth, also dubbed the Holodeck, is a medium sized space off the Shop. It's made prominent by glittery glow-in-the-dark-star dotted carpet, black walls with glowing circuit board patterns pulsing in rainbow patterns, and dim moody green light from above. There's a large pillar in the center of the room that houses at least thirteen headsets and is framed by a circling bench for seating. There's also some monitors set up above the headsets around the pillar, and a few other seating places set up in each corner of the room. Each of the cardinal walls (the entrance is to the south) has a seating arrangement of a glass table with its own circuitboard lighting, dim and moody to not burn any eyes, with some comfy overstuffed gaming chairs on all sides of each table. “So many things are possible just as long as you don’t know they’re impossible.” Warzone Environments (mouse over description for full details) Amazon: An infinite rainforest Towering trees surround everything, some shooting up into the air so high the tops can’t be glimpsed. The air grasps like a cloud, warm and wet, smelling thick with rotting leaves and powerful, syrupy flowers. Birds caw from someplace overhead, unseen beyond the thick overgrown canopies melding their lush, gnarled branches together. Animal hoots resound from deeper into the lush foliage with various howls and shrieks as a reply. A mosaic of light from above plays through the smattering of spaces in the leaves, shifting with each touch of the wind. Hidden animals scurry into the dense underbrush causing leaves to rustle, as they search among the trees for food. Other animals flit through the canopies, bounding from one branch to the other, never having to touch the ground. Insects buzz about creating a consistent hum of electricity that fills every nook and cranny. Ants are everywhere, underfoot, on trees, lining roots and disappearing into the ground. Water gurgles through thin streams as it finds a way to flow through all the roots and leaves and rock and soil, finding a way where none exists, up, under, and around. Constraints/rules: +2 difficulty to ranged attacks due to trees and vines. +1 difficulty to melee attacks due to slippery and rough terrain. Old Mansion: A Gothic battletrap This Victorian mansion’s entrance is one of many that lead into and out of the sector. The Gothic elegance is immediately apparent in every detail of the house from the ceilings to the floors. Rooms feature impeccable decor, premium linens, and all the amenities a discriminating guest appreciates. Open and airy, perfect for conversation or small gatherings with fully stocked and functioning kitchens, the layout of the mansion seems endless because it is. Doors lead to hallways which lead to stairs which leads to more Victorian mansion, yet none of it seems out of place. There are no markers or guide posts, one must learn this sector for what it is. The foyer features restored mahogany millwork or oak flooring, owl-themed wallpaper or heavy silk damask curtains. Other rooms lighten up with sparser furnishing schemes and nature motifs in soft, subdued tones, nothing bright or vivid. Delicate rose pinks, grays, lavender or sage are seen in some rooms while others have a warmer feel with mustard yellows, burgundies or teals Constraints/rules: The interior of house is the entirety of the sector. There is no exterior. +2 to hiding attempts due to all the hiding places within the housing. Improvised weapons are usually always within reach. Desert: An arid sandscape A landscape of sand spreads out into the horizon while harsh sunlight beats down from above. Wind gusts across the sand tearing at anyone and anything in its way. The dry grit of the air sits on the tongue, lingering with a copper taste. A cairn of crumbling rock just out of the ground forming an unshapely portal that serves as the entrance and exit to this sector, duplicated across the landscape, though few and far between. Snake tracks can sometimes be seen across the ground, though eventually they are worn away by the piping gusts that push across the desert. Every now and then a vibrant desert bloom can be spotted, though rarer than an oasis. A more common sight are the cacti of various sizes and shapes that dot the landscape. Constraint/rules: There is no cover or hiding places. The cacti that dot the landscape are a hazard inflicting 4 dice of Lethal damage. Ruins: Nothing left standing This sector is a field of ancient fallen buildings. Weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by dead clumps of grass stand mournfully with nothing to support. Half-crumbled buildings, cracked blocks and stones broken up by meandering tree roots spread out as far as one can see. Wind whips past stone corridors and through window openings. Pitted steps and staircases lead up to missing floors. Caved-in roofs weighed down by vines or other foliage give way to nature retaking its territory. The crunch of dead leaves cry out underfoot with almost every step. Faceless marble or stone statues stand sentinel over the building graveyard. Inscriptions and carvings in stone are faded, aged away by time what they once read now only chalky dust hanging in the air mixed with mildew. Once-towering spires are laid low, spilled out near and through other remains. Dusty and cobwebbed corridors are little more than skeletal remains throughout what is left of buildings. Constraints/rules: Loose rock, boulders and pillars can be used as environmental dangers inflicting 4, 7, and 10 dice of damage respectively. The hazards can be knocked onto an opponent with 2, 3, and 4 successes on a Strength or appropriate Forces, Time, Entropy, respectively. (Forces replaces Matter in the Digital Web.) House Party: Innocent bystanders Loud music and the smell of stale alcohol immediately greet visitors to this sector consisting of a large, multi-room house. Crammed hallways and people spilling out of rooms as they converse loudly to be heard over the conversation next to them dominate the area. All around a party rages! There are people sitting on the stairs and slung over the bannister leading up to the second floor, half empty beer cans and empty bottles are abandoned on tables, shelves, and anything with a flat surface. Pounding on the bathroom door constantly reminds anyone inside of the line that forms outside of it. A bag of ice slowly melts in the sink and discarded red plastic cups are everywhere in various states of being crumpled. In the living room a blasting stereo pumps out rebellious noise and haze from cigarettes and pot fills the room in a cloud. Every several minutes or so the sound of glass breaking or the smash of something knocked over is heard over the cacophony. Lazily looped lights shed colors across living room furniture while popcorn and chip fragments are ground into the carpet by apathetic party goers. There are snack bowls with chips, pretzels, or popcorn, left on tables with drink spills setting in on almost every piece of furniture. Pizza boxes are stacked on counters and tables all over the house with half eaten slices, crusts and crumbs littered about them. Party on. Constraints/rules: The interior of house is the entirety of the sector. There is no exterior. When combat begins, all non-combatants in the party run, but there is no escape. Instead is a constant rush of people in random directions. Every round requires an appropriate roll requiring one success to remain in place. It requires two successes to move to another place, even an opponent. Any botches on that roll drop the character prone. Anyone prone takes 5 dice of Bashing damage due to trampling. Any ranged attacks that miss strike a bystander who remains prone if they take more than two levels of damage, then are subject to being killed by trampling. Normal people do not handle pain well. Spaceport: Starship land 'scape This sector consists of a massive spaceport on a floating city. A hardened surface, appearing to be a combination of concrete and steel, stretches out widely upon which an endless variety of ships and transports sit in various states of preparedness. The dull roar of idling engines are randomly subsumed by the loud yell of active ones while announcements and directions over the intercom system struggle to be heard over both as they sound off. Stale recycled air mixes with burnt ozone all around, constantly shifting with the coming and goings of each ship. All around are the obscura of future tech. Multiple lights sit about for various purposes form signaling ports to warning indicators. Buttons and switches operate docking and undocking protocols for visitors. Cables snake along the ground coupled to each other and hissing various gasses at random intervals. Boxes of various types from wooden, to glass, to metallic are stacked in random places, labeled and marked from everything from adhesive stickers to digital imprints. Individuals scurry about consisting of all manner of aliens, most in various uniforms with ships patches displayed proudly or work crew symbols indicating their affiliations. Along the walls spaced evenly digital windows and security monitors allow for interaction with the spaceport systems and authorities. Constraints/rules: The spaceport is the entirety of the sector. Although buildings can be seen on the skylines, they can never be reached and will always maintain a permanent distance from any players without moving. (Distance is an illusion.) Environmental dangers include among other things, ships landing and taking off. Engines thrusting for landing and take-off inflict 10 dice of Lethal damage and require a balance roll to prevent falling prone. Engine thrust can be avoided with an appropriate avoidance roll at 2 successes. Other environmental hazards (cables, boxes, doors, etc.) are left to the ST to determine. Power Station: An industrial deathtrap The main generating building is split into two halves: the turbine hall and the boiler room. The turbine hall presents an early 19th century French arcade ambiance with its vast open middle that is surrounded by four floors of walkways topped with a giant glass roof. The main turbine hall is immense with Piranesi-like walkways and staircases. Its spectacular all-glass ceiling allows vast amounts of light into the great hall and evokes early steel construction design, a time when structure became longer and taller and took on lightness in its architecture. South of the turbine hall is the boiler room, an area that has unquestionably seen better days. The majority of the boilers have collapsed, producing a long hallway bordered by giant cross beams and piles of bricks. Desks, cubbies, shoes and hangers remain in their original resting places, covered in layers of mud and dust. To the north of the main generating building is the substation that was turned into some sort of catchall. This room, while not as arresting as the generating building, contains many offices, bathrooms, and locker rooms. Contraints/rules: Roll 1d10 every round. A result of 1 signifies some type of industrial accident occurs, inflicting 4 dice of Lethal damage if not avoided. Roll a reflexive Dexterity + Athletics/Acrobatics difficulty 8 to avoid. Examples of industrial accidents: falling vent, electrical explosion, breaking floorboard, flailing electrical wire, etc. Victorian Street: Battle in 1850 This eclectic sector appears to be a simple city street during the Victorian Era at night, always night. It opens up to a cobblestone road with building fronts on both sides featuring a two-room apartment, and shops belonging to a taxidermist, a tailor, a mortician, and a confectioner. The sickly sweet smells of the candy store contrast sharply with the stale scents of death from both the mortician and the taxidermy businesses. The street also contains a large speakeasy, a detective agency with an attached darkroom, and a dilapidated church complete with pews, an altar, lit candles, a confessional, and a large wooden cross behind the pulpit. The speakeasy is a small, very dark parlor. In the center of the room are a lounge table, and three dusty shot glasses. In the side of one of the buildings exists an interesting nook with what appears to be package slots. Several packages rest within, though no particular system for delivery or retrieval is apparent. Constraints/rules: The year is 1850. No items can exist within the zone that did not exist in 1850. +1 difficulty to perception checks due to low lighting. -1 difficulty to hiding due to heavy shadows. Techathedral: Pray for your digital soul A massive, masterful Gothic structure makes up the entirety of this sector, though not quite a genuine reproduction. Though the design is undeniably European, American touches are evident throughout: Statues of American saints stand in niches on the 20,000-pound bronze doors of the west portal. Above these rises the cathedral’s most impressive external feature: twin 330-foot towers, which like the rest of the white-marble exterior, bristle with crockets, foils, pinnacles, and other intricate masonry that characterizes the Gothic style. The touches, however, are lined with neon lights, giving a futuristic twist to the religious experience. The interior is just as exquisitely detailed, with soft light filtering through hologram windows where stained glass would normally be, flooding the soaring, cavernous space within. The cathedral’s floor-plan is the traditional shape of a short-armed crucifix and video screens project religious iconography in startlingly high definition. The nave is lined with altars and filled with pews that face the ornate sanctuary, itself bathed in LED lights that cast harsh shadows behind every surface. Constraints/rules: The interior of technocathedral is the entirety of the sector. There is no exterior. All enemies present as techno-priests with futuristic weaponry covered with Judeo-Christian iconography. Cybertropolis: Obligatory cyberpunkery One of many such worlds, Cybertropolis is a cyberpunk inspired dream/nightmare. Technologically red-lined with cutting edge tech, skyscrapers fill the skyline bearing the company moniker or logo of some company or other, from countries around the world and in any number of languages, proclaiming ownership of their little part of the world. Some of the company names are fictional, others are real world companies who have negotiated for naming rights in the Digital Web sector. The sky is overcast, clouded by smog and perpetually grey. The rain, when it falls, has a slight burn to it, which is irritating but manageable. Glass, mirrors and neon lights are everywhere. Reds, blues, greens, oranges, and purples fill the air with a haze of ambient light battling for supremacy among clusters of digital billboards and attention drawing holograms. At street level flying cars whirl by on all manner of engines and shops blast hawking ad pitches on repeat to draw customers to side and back alley shops where technowizards ply trades not suitable for the main streets and drug lords and mercenaries clad in leathers and decked out with cyber enhancements ply their trade without concern. Constraints/rules: Its cyberpunk. You know what to do. Pyramids: Great Wonder workout Vast and tall unmistakable pyramids among the desert form the content in this sector, their massive forms towering to great and impressive heights. All around them a flurry of activity adds authenticity to the sector as various peoples wander the site, many with canvas bags over their shoulders. Discussions continue apace in Arabic while lines of tourists clutching cameras and bags excitedly chatter among themselves as they follow pointing tour guides in red leather shoes and beige clothes embroidered with gold threads. The great Sphinx is here, its form unmarred as it might have been just after creation with massive blocks of gleaming stone carved into paws towering over visitors at ground level. Braying camels with intricately detailed saddles lift splayed hooves through the gritty sand, their heads thrusting with each step as they are led around the site by men in colored, tasseled headdresses. Above, the bright sun beats down against a brilliant blue sky during the day to be replaced by a bright moon and a brilliant field of stars unfettered by ambient light. The air smells of cigarette smoke, lamp oil, and leather. Around the pyramids, craggy stone juts out of the uniformly beige sand and low stone mastabas with smooth stone polished by the winds sit as lesser companions to the monoliths. Constraints/rules: None Space Cruise: 0 gravity. Nuff said. This massive ship gleams with curvy white interior architecture accented with gold. Spacious interiors give way to wide, elongated viewing decks through which to view the vast, beautiful galaxy as the luxury cruise liner sails through space. Sharply dressed employees in crisp, bright white uniforms with blue and gold accents carry out various ship duties and assist passengers with energetic, smiling expressions of helpful enthusiasm. The sound of people talking in small groups plays all around every brass-railed corner as people indulge in ship amenities. A fruity cocktail of over-oxygenated air keeps a tropical sensation hanging about, boosting the sense to enhance every experience. All manner of entertainment is found throughout the many decks and halls of the ship: fancy restaurants, retail shops from fund and touristy to elegant and expensive, casinos where passengers can gamble themselves into galactic levels of debt, game rooms for kids and separate rooms for adults to play in, zero gravity viewing environments for the true space immersion, delightful pools and tranquil spas, throwback shuffleboard courts and gravity bending climbing walls, winding and twisting exercise tracks and competitive fitness stations, bars of all stripe from wild and entertaining to close and intimate, elegant ballrooms and more traditional clubs for a younger generation. Constraints/rules: Zero gravity environment. "Without the Microgravity Operations Skill, a character in such environments cannot use dice from any Physical Ability. Each dot in this Skill allows your character to use a dot in his other physical Abilities. Let’s say that the guy mentioned above has four dots in Martial Arts; he could use one of them at Microgravity 1, two at Microgravity 2, and so on. Without such training, a person bounces and floats with very little control of personal physics." (Book of Secrets p. 27) “There are no wrong roads to anywhere.” Equipment and Features Headsets: Light and thin, the Phantom Tollbooth VR headsets are not the bulky unwieldy headsets of today, but the thin future tech of tomorrow. Soft flexible material provides a form fitting seal around facial feature to maximize immersion and block out external light. The front thickness of the headset measures just under and inch and weighs only 5 ounces in total. The elastic band can be adjusted to personal taste to eliminate slippage and headset movement depending on activity. All inputs and connections work wirelessly to give a full freedom of movement. Gloves: Rather than handheld controllers, the Phantom Tollbooth uses gloves as the primary input and controlling method. These resemble traditional gloves, built with fabric to fit the hands, and are filled with sensors that provide feedback or stimulus to the hands. The gloves use microfluidic technology that lets the user feel weight, movement, texture and shape of virtual objects, which gives an amazingly sensation of reality to the objects that touch the skin. The gloves can be used separately from the haptic feedback suit while still retaining all virtual sensations limited to the hands for quick and easy access to the Digital Web. Haptic feedback suits: A number of general use suits have been designed with a multitude of sensors and diodes to both receive and give stimulus ranging from a steady pulse of pressure to light electrical shocks. It include full-body motion capture and comes with 268 haptic points capable of simulating a wide variety of physical sensations, like feeling the touch of other players in a social situation, feeling the pulse-pounding music of a concert, mimicking the feel of raindrops hitting your body or feeling the impacts of shots of punches in a warzone. Any user that requests one can have a custom tailed suit in the color and style of their choosing at no cost to them. There is no extra benefit to a custom suit besides IC comfort and style. Loading Room: The initial sight upon turning on the VR headset is an infinite white room containing with two vintage, weathered, red leather chairs and a small an antique television set. The loading room is a replica of the loading room from The Matrix. There, a user can choose their icon from a default list of over 2000 or create their own icon, as well as spawning any items they have access to. Menus or address bars can be opened from there to access other areas of the Digital Web or hot links are available to go directly into one of the Phantom Tollbooth Warzones. “But someday you’ll reach them all, for what you learn today, for no reason at all, will help you discover all the wonderful secrets of tomorrow.” Digital Web Systems The Digital Web is accessible to anyone (in theory) but very few people use it or know what it is about so we've compiled a bunch of information about it and its systems for ease of use, cited from both Mage 20 and the Revised ed Sourcebook: Digital Web 2.0. Quick Reference Guide Access Sensory: VR gear; +1 to all difficulties; Intelligence = Strength, Wits = Dexterity; no physical presence in Web. No magick necessary. Astral: VR gear; Correspondence 2; Intelligence + Computer, difficulty 7, three successes minimum; Intelligence = Strength, Wits = Dexterity; astral presence in Web. Coincidental magick. Holistic: Trinary computer; Life 4/ Correspondence 2/ Forces 2; Intelligence + Computer, difficulty 7, five successes minimum; normal Traits, full physical presence in Web. Vulgar magick. Icons Basic Creation: Intelligence + Computer, difficulty 5. Three successes minimum. Changing Icons: Manipulation + Computer, difficulty 5. Appearance or Intimidation: One dot added per success. Travel Finding Your Way: Perception + Computer, variable difficulty. (Or Intelligence + Etiquette (with a specialty in Web Culture), or Area Knowledge (with a specialty in Digital Web). Popping: Correspondence 3, difficulty 6 in familiar territory, 8 between sectors, + 2 difficulty in unfamiliar areas. Hacking Restricted Sectors: Wits + Computer Hacking, difficulty 7 to 10; 10 to 20 successes. Whiteout Severity Successes Effect One: The mage responsible for the crash suffers a soft de-rez. Two: The responsible mage suffers a hard de-rez. Three: That mage and all icons with 20’ of him get booted to another sector (soft de-rez). Four: Every icon within 50’ suffers a hard de-rez. Five: Every icon in the sector gets a soft de-rez; the responsible party suffers a hard de-rez. Six: All icons within the sector endure a hard de-rez. The sector itself fuzzes and goes offline, as per Duration, below. The offender gets booted to a lost sector (Corrupted Web, Hung Sector, etc.). Seven+: The entire sector crashes, goes offline for the duration, and suffers long-term damage. All icons within the sector get de-rezed hard; offender may be chaos dumped. 10+: Sector trashed forever. Everyone inside that sector suffers hard de-rez. Offender disappears. Paradox Pool Duration 1-3: Less than a minute. 4-6: One to five minutes. 7-10: One to six hours. 11-13: One day. 14-16: One week. 17-20: A month or more. 20+: Trashed forever Landscape (M20 p104) In its earliest days, the Web is said to have been composed of text and fog, drifts of typewriter-font words drifting or darting across a dark void of luminescent mist. According to certain Web-historians, even that mist was formed of code – glowing strings of numerals and symbols drawn from all human languages, bound together by the odd alchemy of human thought. Rigid geometric patterns – perhaps reflecting the Platonic solids in a new configuration – soon followed the discovery of this space, with bold colors and angular shapes replacing the original environment. During its transition from code-fogs and bright geometry to the Zone’s current state, the Digital Web went through a phase right out of Heavy Metal Magazine. Bizarre sectors, comic-book physics, bright colors, and more testosterone-fueled perversity than should be allowed to exist in one space, all flourished from the late ‘70s to the mid-‘90s. A circular trade-off between Web reality and popular sci-fi crafted the visions of both. By the late ‘90s, though, a combination of sophisticated Computer Graphics Imaging, increased net traffic, and the combined imaginations of Sleepers and Awakened had turned the Tronlike cyberscape into a lush electronic world. These days, a trip to the Digital Web brings you into a hyperreal multiverse of rich vistas and startling colors. Although it’s still bolder and often louder than the mortal realm, there’s a sensual sophistication that was lacking, perhaps impossible, in the older Web. As with the Three Worlds (high, low, and middle umbras), the Web reverberates with vivid sensations. And yet there’s a lingering flatness to it all, especially when compared to the primal impressions of the Three Worlds. Most of the Web feels like a pyrokinetic bazaar, but for all the sound and fury and polymorphous culture, there’s something missing. It’s scent. The Digital Web doesn’t smell like anything. Taste is oddly lacking too – not just in the aesthetic sense, but in the sensory sense. As vivid as the sights and sounds and even tactile impressions can be, the Digital Web still falls a bit short of full satisfaction as far as the human animal is concerned. That said, considering how ripe certain netizens probably are in person, that missing sense might not be an entirely bad thing. Grids (M20 p108) Known dismissively as “sheep pens,” those Grid Sectors get Formatted to keep the majority of Sleeper net traffic from clogging up the Digital Web at large. Originally seen as glowing grids of lines and typeface (hence, “grid”), many of these regions have since taken on the dreamlike texture of CGI artwork. Although quite a few of them – especially the ones denoting office environments, industrial information, and so forth – retain that grid-like appearance from a netspace view, others – particularly gaming zones, social networks, and art communities – feature graphics that Hollywood would kill for. As the theory goes, people invest themselves in the Web… and so, groups of people – even Sleepers – who spend lots of time and energy here are rewarded with more impressive realms. Even now, the majority of websites on the Meatspace Internet are Grid Sectors. They can grow vast, but their reality is pretty Constrained. That’s intentional. Grid Sectors have Restriction protocols that keep the majority of the sheep (sometimes known as bleaters) from wandering around and shitting all over Webspace. Awakened travelers can come and go easily enough, but it takes a dedicated (or fortunate) Sleeper to hop the fence and go off elsewhere. By and large, folks don’t even know they can go elsewhere; they ping from Grid to Grid, never realizing there’s so much more to the Internet than the things they see on their screens. Despite the original intent behind them, Grids make up the majority of shared space in the Digital Web. Sleepers and Awakened share company in such regions, where the Awakened netizens simply realize what’s really going on. To Meatspace bleaters, these Grids combine text and graphics to create a computer interface. Awakened visitors, on the other hand, can walk through those spaces, interacting with people’s icons as if they were sharing a room in Meatspace. Although the mortals interact through keyboards and headsets, visiting mages experience the Web as full-contact Reality. As I’ve mentioned, virtual geography is changeable – now more so than ever before. The majority of Grid Sectors, though, include a variety of zones, including Warzones: gaming areas that are among the largest and most elaborate communities on the Web; FaceSpace, the various social media Grids, which look like tract housing made of pictures; the Wharchives, colossal libraries filled with ever-changing content; Trawlers, little virtual teleportation boats that skim the Web for information; InfoSpace, where blogs and newsfeeds appear as handbills with shifting text and illustrations, often flying around on virtual winds, getting stapled to posts, or being snapped up and slapped up with “sticky” glue to surfaces in other Grids; the Restricted Salons and Galleries where artists and bloggers meet and share their work with exclusive company; the Dream Theatres, where virtual memories play out for enthusiastic (and often obnoxious) audiences; Echo Chambers, where folks preach from virtual soapboxes and get swept up in amplified hysterias; the Pleasure Zones, drenched in cheesy sexuality for any taste imaginable; and many other Grids besides – all of them flickering with advertising space, flame wars, and the lambent glow of mortal egotism on a vast yet disconnected scale. C-Sectors (M20 p108) To preserve what netizens build in this Zone, Formatted Sectors are typically Constrained – that is, set into certain forms by protocols that limit the possibilities within that sector. That process used to be anathema to many Virtual Adepts, who claimed that information needed to remain free, especially in virtual reality space. That idea, sadly, faded under the stress of conflict, division, and the incursion of all those goddamned Sleepers who could not and would not follow the plan. Even the most idealistic Adepts soon wound up Constraining private realms where only the most elite of them could go. As usual, meet the new boss, same as the old boss. For a while, sectors that had been Formatted within certain protocols were called Constraint Realms, regions where visitors and their activities had to follow a certain theme. Folks who bridled at the term “constraint” preferred configuration instead. Eventually, the clunky phrase was streamlined into C-Sector (occasionally even into the grotesque pun “C-Section”), a term that’s come to mean “any area configured to suit a given idea.” And because almost any Formatted area is configured to suit a given idea – and, by extension, to exclude ideas that don’t fit the creator’s plans – C-Sector now refers to an area designed for a particular kind of use. Any type of sector that’s been deliberately Formatted by netizens is essentially a C-Sector. Under that huge umbrella, you’ve got SRVRZ, the highly- Restricted Technocratic strongholds; FreeSpace, which has ironically been Constrained to keep out everyone but the most idealistic transhumanists; a multitude of private Saves where netizens gather in exclusive company, shaping little reality rooms to suit their needs and fancies; Coms (or ComGrounds) like the legendary Spy’s Demise, where folks from different factions can mingle in relative safety; and the massive Grid Sectors where the majority of the action, Awakened and otherwise, goes down… Warzones (DW2 p?) Remember when I said that *everything* Sleepers do online winds up reflected here in the Web? Well, consider the sectors created by networked video games — especially shooters. True, the Warzones actually originated with Technocrat training grounds and Adept "paintball" arenas, but in the last few years they've grown to truly epic levels. People (Awakened or otherwise) just can't seem to get enough of killing (simulated or otherwise). To feed the need, Warzone Sectors have sprung up all over the Web, each one devoted to war games of various levels of intensity. Essentially, a Warzone is a sector featuring some kind of terrain, a variety of weapons, and targets... including yourself. Most feature "medical kits" and "recharging pills" of different kinds, as well as an array of weapons strewn around for the players to pick up and employ. The majority of Warzones are Sleeper-based Grid Sectors, although a good number (like the Crater) have been set up by spinners for their own amusement. All are Constraint Realms of some kind — you usually have to adjust your icon into a massive fighting dude or cartoon character. Most are cool as shit. Imagine playing *Doom* for real. If you're killed, you get dumped back at the starting point, unless you're holistically immersed (more on that later), in which case you get punched back into Hamburger Country with a nasty headache and some minor burns. A few Warzones, however, are lethal. If you get killed in one of those, you're history. Your icon is de-rezzed (usually in some spectacularly gory fashion), and deadly feedback turns your meat into steak. In most cases, lethal Warzones are clearly marked. To enter the sector, you have to key in your ID code; doing so removes any obligation the host has toward protecting you. At that point, you're on your own. Some spinners use Warzones to settle grudges; while most of 'em prefer the common setup, a few go for the lethal ones instead. If you get called out, be careful, and make sure you know what you're agreeing to before the blast-bolts start flying. The *really* nasty Warzones originated with the U.S. Army's VR training grounds. You didn't know about those? Yeah, the military has hundreds of battle simulations online — maps of Iraq, Kuwait, Moscow, even New York City — and it uses 'em to train troops, plan missions and test battle scenarios. Fun as it might seem, don't *ever* get caught near one of those! Every one of them is fatal to Webspinners. For sheer destructive power, the world's baddest HIT Mark can't touch an Apache attack 'copter or Abrams tank. Get nailed by one of *those,* even in VR, and your Avatar takes a very permanent vacation. Restricted Sectors (DW2 p101) Restricted Sectors (including SRVRZ) throw up a bewildering array of blinds, traps, and misdirections, etc. These vary from sector to sector, the same tricks are rarely used twice. Even the Technocrats know enough to vary the baffles from place to place — "standard format protocols" allowed the Virtual Adepts to stomp early SRVRZ into digital dust. In story terms, a traveler going in or out of the sector must either run a gauntlet of tricks and traps (most of which either pop trespassers into other sectors, de-rez 'em or fry 'em), or carry some ID software that bypasses the security codes. Really heavily Restricted areas might be so saturated with scanners and tests that everyone there, even the native icons, moves slower than usual. In game terms, a trespasser must win between 10 to 20 successes on a Wits + Computer Hacking roll. The difficulty may vary from 7 to 10, and might include resisted rolls from the security systems (usually a Dice Pool of five to 10 dice rolling against difficulty 5 — it's their system!). Some systems might (at Storyteller's option) include puzzles for the player, or a succession of challenges that requires several different rolls of other Traits (Perception or Intelligence + Cryptography, Enigmas, Linguistics, Psychology, Occult, Science: Math or Physics, or even Secret Code Language). Remember, most programmers prize themselves on imagination, and often want to hide their secrets from everyone... even their own allies. An "ID badge" containing the proper codes allows a traveler to enter a Restricted Sector without difficulty. Such badges are usually coded to specific icons, and malfunction if carried by "intruders." Faking such passes (Perception + Cryptography, difficulty 7 +) almost always requires a working badge to use as a template, and a compatible fake icon (a HIT Mark, for instance) with a really good program (five successes or more). Corrupted Web (DW2 p101) Corrupted Web and its effects are left to the Storyteller's option — no two are alike. Two things are certain: Nothing in a Corrupted area will act the way it's supposed to — not magick, not knowledge, not perceptions, nothing — and getting out will always be harder than getting in. Pure Storytelling (perhaps with the occasional Wits + Technology roll thrown in to give players a chance) works better for such horrors than predictable systems. Corrupted Web is anything but predictable. Haunted Web (M20 p108) The most fearsome sectors feature literal ghosts in the machine. In places that have been corrupted by Whiteouts or malicious programs, that overlap with the Low Umbra, or that mark the site of a particularly nasty digital death, you might find such ghosts… or worse, become one yourself! Haunts are obvious; like Meatspace haunted houses, they feature ghostly phenomena, often acted out against a misty, ruined backdrop. Such places play ugly games with your mind… and because consciousness is everything in the Digital Web, those games can have nasty consequences. More frightening still are the Hung Sectors, where metaphysical data stutters can trap unwary travelers and get them stuck, frozen or flickering, in potentially endless loops. And then there’s the Rip: fractal storm-tides that are said to draw netizens into the Trash Sector, a legendary virtual hell of lost data and broken-code chaos. Some folks think that the Rip and the Trash Sector reflect the damnation of Alan Turing – making that Sector a virtual rock where the Prometheus of net-space gets eternally devoured for the hubris of opening it up to us. Others speculate that it’s where data goes to die… and because everything is information, it’s the ultimate fate of all things. An even cheerier theory posits that the Trash Sector is the demented side of virtual reality, the broken shell of its divine consciousness. Oh, yeah – didn’t I tell you? According to some theories, the Digital Web is alive… and it feeds on our life energies when we spend time in it – which, when you think about it, would explain a lot of things about the Internet age. Junklands (DW2 p101) Junklands are easy enough to enter or leave. Bad things happen to spinners who wind up in them, though. The disturbing Resonance and disconcerting images in such places often take a toll on visitors' sanity. In game terms, those effects could come out as disorientation or Willpower drains. A successful Willpower roll (difficulty 7 + ) might screen out the worst effects of a Junklands visit, but no one, not even the most callous Euthanatos, is able to enter such a sector without feeling uncomfortable. (Granted, some folks like being uncomfortable.) Haunts (DW2 p101) Haunts essentially work like Junklands do — with the addition of a ghost or two, and possibly a few nihils leading into the Underworld. The Resonance of death — which Euthanatos call Jhor — seeps into everything in a Haunt Sector. No one can come or go without feeling the cold touch of mortality and its aftermath. (See Wraith: The Oblivion and its supplement, Artificers, for more details on the Restless Dead, and Euthanatos, pp. 59-61, for more about the death-taint.) Trash Sector (DW2 p101) The Trash Sector is inaccessible unless you get dumped so badly that the connection between consciousness, the icon and RealSpace is severed. Since we don't advise doing this to the players' characters, this mysterious "lost world" should remain more a rumor than a certainty... although sadistic Storytellers might expand on the legend at their option. Hung Sector (DW2 p102) The only way out of a Hung Sector involves Time magick. Nothing else "unfreezes" the endless moment of repetition. A traveler caught in a HS repeats the first few words or actions she made as she entered the sector. Unless she activates an Advanced Time-diffusion Prog (Time 4) as she goes in, she's stuck a turn or so after she enters. A Time-savvy magus can free her, so long as he stands outside the sector itself. Anyone who steps into the HS is stuck... possibly for a long, long time. Internal Access (M20 p105) Any conscious entity can dream; very few, however, can enter the Dream Zone under their own power and then walk around there at will. The Digital Web works the same way. Billions of people access virtual space every day, via phones and keyboards. These folks don’t actually enter the Digital Web, though – they skim along its proximity, brushing its strands the way that insect wings displace the air. As Sleepers do in the magickal realm, most people affect the nature of Reality as a whole yet rarely work their Will upon it. They pass briefly through the virtual realm, fireflies flashing here and there. To become human in that region, you’ve got to send yourself there through one of several methods: Sensory Visitation (M20 p466) The quick and easy way to enter the Web involves simply strapping on the right gear and logging in. Any Sleeper can do this, although most mortals figure that what they’re seeing is cool graphics, not actual reality. In the old days, sensory visitation required bulky VR gear. Now all it demands is a pair of high-end net-access sunglasses, maybe with a pair of sleek VR gloves for tactile contact. Certain gaming platforms provide a limited interface for sensory visitation through screens, keyboards, and other related devices. Sure, this virtual reality looks like state-of-the-art graphics… and it is. Still, there’s more to that World of Woecraft game than most people think. Why else would it be so addictive? Story-wise, sensory visitation projects the traveler’s visual, audio, and – to a limited degree – tactile senses into the Web. Through the interface, her mind visits the Web even though her physical body remains at home. Although her contact with that online world holds certain limitations, she sends a part of her consciousness into that space. System-wise, sensory visitation requires only the proper equipment. Anyone can do it, although few people understand just what it is they’re doing. A traveler uses several Mental Traits in place of Physical ones: Intelligence instead of Strength and Wits instead of Dexterity. Thanks to that uneasy separation of body and mind, all rolls for a visiting character receive a +1 difficulty penalty; that used to be +2 in the old days, but the interface has improved since then, and people are more attuned to computer simulations than they were in the ‘90s. Astral Immersion (M20 p467) At the next level of Web access, a traveler immerses herself into the Web through a limited form of astral projection. As the narrator mentioned in Chapter Four, this trick involves projecting your senses – and by extension, your sense of reality – into the Web. Thanks to a combination of good gear, a ready mind, and the skill to go where the visitor wants to go in the way she wants to go there, the average netizen can reach the deeper level of digital reality without actually downloading herself into the Web. In game terms, astral immersion requires good VR equipment (by 2015, you could use a high-grade smart phone or tablet with correct programs and the right apps), an Intelligence + Computer roll (three successes, difficulty 7), and at least two dots in the Correspondence Sphere. If your group employs the Data Sphere option (detailed in the sidebar and in Chapter Ten, pp. 524-525), the roll for that difficulty is 6 instead of 7. Again, the character uses Intelligence and Wits in place of Strength and Dexterity, which gives an edge to agile-minded netizens. On both game and story levels, the astrally immersed character is vulnerable in Meatspace; her entire concentration remains focused on the Digital Web environment, leaving her body in a deep trance. Smart travelers leave alarms, guards, or allies, and other levels of security on their bodies; after all, if anything happens to the meat back home, that visit may become a one-way trip. On the positive end, they can drop out immediately if need be. Although the experience of going from one reality to another can be disorienting for a minute or so, the benefits of being able to ditch out on a bad situation kinda make up for the inconvenience of building a new icon when you return. Holistic Immersion (M20 p467) Maximum access involves projecting one’s own self into the Digital Web. Downloading the body as information, a high-end Trinary computer system disassembles the traveler’s physical data and jacks it into a different level of reality. Although the necessary gear has been refined since the 1990s, this is still one hell of a stunt, requiring tremendous processing power and Enlightened technology. Story-wise, the traveler becomes pure information; this requires at least seconds of processing time with the appropriate gear. Although rumors speculate that portable HI Devices exist, few people are crazy enough to trust their molecules to a glorified iPad, so such Devices might or might not exist. Rules-wise, holistic immersion requires specially equipped Trinary computer Devices, an extended Intelligence + Computer roll (five successes, difficulty 7), and a Life 4/ Correspondence 2/ Forces 2 Effect. A character using the Data Sphere still faces difficulty 7, due to the physical nature of this metaphysical download process. Each roll reflects 30 seconds of processing time. Any interruption during the transfer process disrupts the attempt and inflicts an immediate Paradox backlash upon the user. (See Chapter Ten.) Downloading yourself into a computer is, of course, extremely vulgar in all locations on Earth, so that backlash can be very, very nasty. A holistically immersed character uses all of his usual Traits in all of the usual ways. For better and worse, he is in the Web. A traveler could also access the Web holistically by climbing into that Zone on the Pattern Web. Web Traits (M20 p467) A traveler who enters the Web through either sensory visitation or astral immersion uses his Intelligence as Strength and his Wits as Dexterity. Stamina is still Stamina. Although his icon may take damage, his physical body rarely does. A holistically immersed character uses his normal Traits. Physically present, he enjoys and suffers all effects of his presence. Travel (DW2 p101) Virtual reality is just that: virtually reality. "Solid" objects and surfaces appear in Webspace as solid as ones in RealSpace; Your spinner can sit in a chair or lean on a wall as readily as he can in the material world. Distances are more ephemeral, but still appear to be distances. Dante is Elite enough to fly or teleport between sectors if he wants to, but it's usually easier just to walk through the conduits. Conduits lead nearly everywhere if you know which roads to follow. For the most part, this is kinda like getting around town in RealSpace: You know the roads where you walk most often. You can use magick or back doors for personal travel, and employ conduits and hot links as public transit. All of these options are open to Webspinners with the know-how and imagination to employ them. Traveling in familiar territory doesn't really demand anything special. Finding your way through unknown pathways might require a Perception + Computer or Web Culture roll; the more arcane the route, the higher the difficulty. In story terms, your character needs to search for landmarks, watch for the scenery changes that reflect the sector (see the description of the Spy's Demise for an example), look for hot links, or ask for information. Although many of the well-traveled conduits have signs and/ or maps (kinda like the "you are here" boards in malls), many old or obscure passages have no markings at all. It's easy to get lost in such areas if you aren't careful. The Whereami Effect (Mage, p. 189) is a popular tool in Netspace. Hot Links (M20 p469) A popular innovation from the late ‘90s allows travelers to access different places via a hot link: a flashing sign or object that connects a traveler with another Web sector. In this case, the traveler simply touches the hot link and pops into the other location. Such links rarely lead back to the original location, however, although a savvy traveler can backspace with a Correspondence 3 Effect. Popping and Backspacing (M20 p 469) “He who controls Correspondence controls the Internet.” That’s not entirely true, but a mage with three dots or more in the Correspondence Sphere certainly has an edge over visitors who do not. In the case of popping and backspacing, the netizen can hop back and forth between sectors so long as she has some idea where she’s going and doesn’t encounter a Constraint that blocks her access to and from that area. Popping and backspacing usually employ a pop prog: a program that scans for a prospective location, logs that area, and focuses the Correspondence 3 Effect. Assuming that he’s going back to his previous location within a minute or two of arrival, the traveler doesn’t need a pop prog in order to backspace. A smart netizen takes a turn to scan for the new location with his pop prog, then pops on the following turn. Popping blind (that is, without scanning first) raises the usual difficulty by +2. If both locations are located in the same sector, the Effect remains coincidental; if the traveler pops between sectors, the Effect is vulgar. (Again, see Magick in the Web, below.) A failed pop lands the traveler in some interesting form of hot water: the wrong place, a bad time, in the middle of nasty business, and so forth. A botched roll drops the visitor into some truly awful place or kicks him off the Web with a soft de-rez, as described under Digital Damage, below. If the traveler wants to pop in or out of a Restricted sector (an area with tight Constraint protocols), then the difficulty rises to 8 or 9, the Effect is vulgar, and a failed or botched roll instantly inflicts icon death or a chaos dump upon the traveler. Even if the player’s roll succeeds, the character may get booted out anyway unless he’s appropriately prepared to suit that sector’s particular Constraints. Icon-ogasm (M20 p109) “Sleepy” visitors can spend the better part of their lifetimes in the Grids. Embodied as ghostly icons with synthetic voices, these people drift throughout the Grids, acting out shadow puppet reflections of the human experience. Their words tend to be clipped, slurred, or overly eloquent, depending on the typing speed and writing skill of the people on the other end of the icon. Quite often, they’re an obnoxious, self-centered reminder of how far we are from global Utopia. Awakened visitors have vivid icons with voices and behaviors that seem almost human. Astral immersion provides the most flexible experience, whereas holistic immersion and Web-climbing provide the most solid icons. Sensory visitation creates a hazy icon that’s still more tangible than a Sleeper icon from the Grid. It sometimes takes a moment or two, but Awakened folks can often recognize each other’s nature, if not identity, in the Web. Identity is an elusive concept in this space. As I mentioned earlier, folks project aspects of their Earthly selves here, but those aspects can be deceptive. An icon might look nothing whatsoever like that person’s physical self. Skilled netizens can appear in whatever form they choose. More often than not, you can guess a lot about a person in Meatspace by the way they behave. After all, appearances aren’t everything. In the Digital Web, however, identity is fluid and often unpredictable. For bleaters and Awakened netizens alike, this Zone provides potent lessons about the tricky nature of reality. Icons (M20 p467) As with many computer and video games, netizens get to design their own small-a avatars to represent their virtual selves. Typically called icons (see Mind Matters, Icons, and Avatars, Chapter Four, M20 p. 107), these synthetic reflections can take whatever form a traveler can devise. Certain areas, called Constraint Realms, might limit the types of icon a person may wear within that area. In general, though, the netizen can program an original design, download a predesigned one, or select a variety of virtual costumes to reflect her desired persona. In story terms, netizens place great importance on clever, appealing, and imaginative icons. It’s like dressing for an exclusive and very high-end Halloween party – the wrong icon marks you as someone unworthy of attention… or worse, worthy of the wrong kind of attention. Social interactions in the Web can slide up or down the difficulty scale based upon the icon you wear. It’s always a good idea to keep several options in mind. Crafting and Changing Icons (M20 p468) Game-wise, a player rolls Intelligence + Computer, difficulty 5, to design an original icon. Wearing a pregenerated one requires no roll. Icons start with a base Appearance of 1 and an Intimidation of 0. Each success allows the player to add one dot of Appearance, Intimidation, or both to her character’s icon. Crafting a basic icon requires at least three successes, although taking one “off the rack” is more or less instantaneous if you don’t much care what it looks like. A really good icon might demand five to 10 successes, with each roll reflecting five minutes or turns of game time. Changing icons is quick and easy if your character has preloaded options that were created earlier. Such costume changes require one turn and no roll. Really radical or off the cuff transformations, however, demand a Manipulation + Computer roll, difficulty 5; each success allows you to shift one dot of Appearance, Intimidation, or both. Aside from Appearance and Intimidation, icons do not change a character’s Traits or capabilities. Any additional abilities or accessories (fire breathing, wings, etc.) must be created with additional magicks. Fortunately, most forms of magick are coincidental within Webspace; for details, see Magick in the Web, below. Magick (M20 p469) Generally coincidental except: Mages who cast spells by will alone are essentially performing vulgar magick without witnesses. Spells cast inside a Restricted sector that come from outsiders to that area. Effects that violate a sector’s Constraint protocols. Any magick cast within the Corrupted web. Workings of tremendous size. Large-scale spells (explosions, great conjurations, time freezes, gigantic icons, morphing or co-location of whole areas, dimensional rifts, and multi-icon morphs) shift power around so radically that a Whiteout becomes almost inevitable. In such cases, the roll is made as if the spell is "vulgar with witnesses" (the "witness" being the Net itself), and generates Paradox accordingly. (DW2 p106) Forces or Prime Effects that score more than five successes. Effects or gates that jump between sectors or that attempt to bridge the Web with other areas of the Otherworlds. Effects that jump from Netspace to Meatspace Magick Adjustments (DW2 p106) Any Webspinner can use a limited version of the Landscape of the Mind Effect. A Perception + Alertness roll allows a character to sense the area around her as if she was looking down at herself through a tactical display. These perceptions extend only to places within the sector or conduit that the spinner is standing in at the time. Arcane, invisibility and other forms of concealment may negate this ability, or contest it with a resisted roll. Characters with Correspondence, Forces or Prime can use those Spheres at one level higher than their normal rating, up to a maximum of 5. This "bonus" does not extend to Devices or Talismans of any kind, and is somewhat limited — the Rank 6 secrets of the archmasters are too arcane for lesser magi to understand, even here. Life and Matter work only on "solid" bodies or objects. Although either one can be linked to other Spheres or channeled out of the Web, the Spheres cannot harm or heal VR bodies or objects by themselves. Life and Matter work normally upon bodies that have been Holistically projected into the Net, or with objects that are connected to it, like computer networks or the machines wired to them. Against VR icons or objects, however, these Spheres are useless. Optional Rule: The Data Sphere (M20 p467) In the Revised sourcebook for the NWO, an optional rule allows certain characters to replace the Correspondence Sphere with a related Sphere: Data. Essentially, the character regards the usual Correspondence principles as aspects of information. Detailed in Chapter Ten, this option reflects the practice of compiling and correlating data to connect things to one another. If your group chooses to employ this option, a character using Data instead of the Correspondence Sphere reduces all Digital Web-based magick difficulties by -1. Essentially, his approach to data works exceptionally well in a Zone in which reality and principles are based upon mathematical information. Paradox (M20 p470) Thankfully, Paradox doesn’t carry over between Earth and the Web unless the offending mage has climbed up into the Web from some other area of the Umbra. Going offline dumps a mage’s net-based Paradox; he can return a minute or so afterward with no ill effects. Whiteout: The Paradox Glitch (M20 p470) Even a reality as flexible as the Digital Web has its limits… and when those limits get pushed by too much energy and information shifting around at once, the Web crashes. The resulting Whiteout can be as innocuous as a localized slowdown or as vast as the Great Crash that took the entire net offline in ’97. Anyone with a lick of sense fears a replay of that particular incident, so folks online tend to avoid throwing their weight around too freely. The Lag Story-wise, Whiteouts de-rez the offending netizen. Large ones crash parts of a sector, and really large ones trash the area and everyone in it. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can spot an impending Whiteout by the lag: a stuttering effect that slows and pixelates everyone in the surrounding area. Experienced netizens know to log out immediately when lag shows up. If a sector starts lagging, a Whiteout’s on the way. Rolling the Whiteout In game terms, a Whiteout functions like any other Paradox backlash. For details, see the Paradox entry in Chapter Ten. The scale of a Whiteout, and its effects on the characters involved, can be found on the nearby Web Systems chart. The associated effects and duration of the Whiteout depend upon the Paradox Pool of the person who provoked the backlash. The bigger his Pool, the longer the Whiteout. A netizen can invoke the Whiteout when he accumulates five Paradox points or more, especially if he accumulates them all at once. The Storyteller usually rolls the dice for a backlash – one die per point in the Paradox Pool, rolled against a difficulty of 6. If the characters have been throwing around a lot of Forces or Prime magick, the difficulty may be 4 instead of 6. Fortunately, that option doesn’t apply to Warzone sectors, which are set up to handle lots of force. Thankfully, Paradox doesn’t carry over between Earth and the Web unless the offending mage has climbed up into the Web from some other area of the Umbra. Going offline dumps a mage’s net-based Paradox; he can return a minute or so afterward with no ill effects. Getting Outta Dodge (M20 p470) A large-scale Whiteout – that is, one involving more than 10 points of Paradox – signals its approach with lag. Every character nearby, except the one who provoked the backlash, get one action in which to ditch out and avoid the blast. In game terms, this involves a roll of Wits + Computer, difficulty 8. Success means that a character was able to drop offline in time to escape the Whiteout. Failure means that character gets hit with half damage as well, and a botch means the character takes full damage. If a bystander plans to stay online and ride out the backlash, then she takes half damage from the Whiteout. The person who triggered it, however, has no such options. It’s worth mentioning that folks who court Whiteout aren’t terribly popular online. Damage and Death Bashing, Lethal, and Aggravated Damage (M20 p470) In the Digital Web, combat follows the usual rules. Characters still use their Stamina to soak damage. Although the settings may be bizarre – adding to or reducing dice pools and difficulties – the physics play out in the usual way. The primary difference between them comes through in the damage suffered through such attacks. For sensory or astrally immersed netizens, most injuries involve bashing damage. System shock (headaches, nervous twitches, fatigue, etc.) may affect the end user back home, but with a few exceptions, those injuries clear up quickly. Netizens refer to such injuries as egg-frying: your “egg” (head) gets a bit fried when you tangle with folks online. Holistically immersed people, on the other hand, suffer damage as if Netspace were normal space. A punch inflicts bashing damage, and a gun deals out lethal damage. Because there’s no icon to take the punishment, an HI visitor suffers the consequences. That’s the primary reason folks still prefer astral visitation over full-on immersion. Aggravated damage is, fortunately, rare. The only attacks that inflict such damage involve viruses, chaos dumps, Whiteouts, and feedback programs. Among netizens, agg damage manifests as burns, internal bleeding, brain hemorrhages, and the occasional exploding head. Really badly injured netizens tend to die offline, their icons sizzled and their bodies suffering aftershocks that leave their meat cooked or rotting in front of their computer gear. Net Fatigue (M20 p471) Strenuous activity online leads to fatigue offline. Most netizens know all too well the headaches, backaches, joint pain, nightmares, fading vitality, and chronic obesity that plague people who spend most of their lives in front of computers. Game-wise, such effects are simply left to narration and roleplaying. Although a player might have to make a Willpower roll after some especially traumatic or exhausting experience (failure results in a nasty case of fatigue, neurosis, or Quiet), net fatigue is just part of life on the Digital Web. It’s been said that the Web feeds on its human occupants, and net fatigue may be the end result. Virus Infection (M20 p471) VR VD affects netizens the way herpes infects swingers: frequently, pervasively, and with annoying and sometimes serious results. One of the more infuriating forms of online virus involves the adware infection that causes netizens to suddenly talk like commercials at unexpected times. (Make a Willpower roll to resist the effects.) Although security software for an icon allows a netizen a soak roll against virus attacks, most netizens get infected at least once. On a more ominous note, hackers, crackers, and security programs often pass off deadlier forms of virus. Such attacks can follow a traveler back into Meatspace, eroding his physical and mental abilities like a physical illness or poison. The Environmental Hazards section, earlier in this chapter, details the effects of various toxins. The Storyteller determines how nasty a particular virus will be. Digital Death: The De-Rez (M20 p108) Death, incidentally, tends to be as permanent as your method of travel. De-rezing when you’re in sensory visitation mode usually results in a headache and scattered perceptions but not much worse than that. An astral visitor gets those effects, plus – quite often – minor brain damage, physical burns, or both. A traveler who gets cacked while holistically immersed dies for real. The more you enter, the more you risk. And so, while the Digital Web offers opportunities to die another day, that death might one day prove permanent. Soft De-Rez (M20 p471) The most common fate for errant travelers, a soft derez instantly pops the traveler into some other part of theWeb… typically a dump site or respawning ground. There, the icon and its user wind up stunned for several minutes, then get up and start over again. In game terms, a soft de-rez is typically an automatic effect triggered when someone goes where she’s not supposed to be or dies in a sector that’s been dedicated to computer games so that death is not as dangerous as the more serious forms of icon destruction detailed below. The dump automatically inflicts one to three levels of bashing damage (no soak roll), depending on the severity of the attack. For holistically immersed travelers, a soft de-rez inflicts between one to four levels of bashing damage but allows for a soak roll. The de-rezed character also suffers a penalty of +2 to all of her difficulties for an hour or two, thanks to the system shock of having her mind and body booted to another part of Netspace. If she happens to be in a Restricted sector when she gets de-rezed, then the character also loses one dot from a Mental Attribute for the same length of time, to reflect the mental fogginess that comes from getting slammed around the Web. Hard De-Rez (M20 p472) Heavier attacks throw the visitor right offline. The icon gets blasted out of existence, and the user winds up back in his chair, head throbbing and senses boiled. Story-wise, a hard de-rez strikes someone who violates a major protocol in a Restricted sector, crosses the wrong netizen, provokes a minor Whiteout backlash, or sustains enough damage to take him to Incapacitated while online. The effect boots him out of Netspace and leaves his physical body and consciousness scrambled and hurt. In game terms, a hard de-rez inflicts two automatic health levels in lethal damage. A sensory or astral netizen gets a soak roll against this damage (difficulty 7, not the usual 6) because of the distance between his icon and his physical form. A holistically immersed visitor does not get that roll, however, as his body takes the full effects of the dump. In either case, the player must also make a Stamina roll, difficulty 7, or else lose two points from a Mental Attribute. These lost points heal like health levels lost to lethal damage and reflect the egg-frying intensity of a hard de-rez. Icon Death (M20 p473) The fate of netizens who get cacked in sectors that haven’t been designed to protect them from the consequences of mortality, icon death fries the icon and boots the traveler back into Meatspace. Story-wise, the icon explodes in a shower of screaming pyrotechnics or CGI gore while the person on the other end wakes up back in material reality, probably suffering minor burns and a major headache… and possibly suffering a lot worse than that. (For the record, a holistically immersed traveler who gets killed in Netspace dies. That’s that.) From a rules perspective, icon death strikes a character whose icon falls below Incapacitated or who’s caught in a major Whiteout backlash. The Storyteller calls for a Stamina roll, difficulty 7. If the player succeeds, the traveler gets knocked unconscious by the shock; waking up several minutes later, she’ll be hallucinating her way through a crushing headache. Any injuries the icon took in Netspace manifest in Meatspace as bashing damage, although each success on the Stamina roll reduces that damage by one health level. The player can heal the remaining damage by spending one Willpower point per health level lost. Even then, however, the character remains haunted and scrambled for some time afterward; in game terms, she suffers a penalty of +3 to all difficulties for a day or two after the dump. If that roll fails, the consequences become more severe. In this case, the damage is lethal and the character falls into a coma. A botched roll inflicts aggravated damage, frying the character in her chair; if by some miracle she survives, she’s still in a coma and will suffer permanent impairment if she ever wakes up again. A character who dies in a Restricted sector endures a profound mental breakdown. Even if the roll succeeds, that character loses two dots from each Mental Attribute, which heal back as if they were health levels of aggravated damage. If the Stamina roll fails, then that character undergoes… The Chaos Dump (M20 p473) The dread of every netizen alive, a chaos dump blasts both the icon and its user’s consciousness into fractals. The meat and the mind remain connected through the process, which results in an awful kind of Internet oblivion. An Arete roll (difficulty 8) sends the traveler’s consciousness into an immediate Quiet, from which he may eventually escape. Success inflicts aggravated damage on the body as above. Failure or a botch on this roll cooks the mage from the inside out… the awful fate of many netizens on the day of the Great Whiteout. From that fate, no resurrection is possible. Fortunately, chaos dumps are rare – typically the result of a huge Paradox backlash in the web. Among netizens, deliberately inflicting a chaos dump on someone is like using nerve gas on a crowded subway – the unforgivable act of someone too far gone for salvation. This is not to say, of course, that people don’t do such things; those who do, however, are hated and hunted by almost everyone.