Countdown: 2060 (Shadowrun D20 Campaign; sorta updated 3/27)

[Andrew D. Gable]

RASTA
Real Name: Thomas Smiley
Occupation: Mercenary
Birthplace: Kingston, Jamaica, Caribbean League
Race: Troll

GHOST
Real Name: Jonathan Kelly
Occupation: Hermetic mage
Birthplace: Seattle, UCAS
Race: Elf

PLUNKETT
Real Name: Unknown
Occupation: Mercenary
Birthplace: San Francisco, CFS
Race: Ork

These three characters will be players in my upcoming game of my own conversion of Shadowrun D20, played with Spycraft rules. It’ll be a series of mini-campaigns loosely connected to each other. From a little preliminary run I did for the PCs, it seems they’ll be most interested in being involved with crime in some manner, mostly gangbusting and smuggling.

 

[Andrew D. Gable]

The Modern Northwest

The Northwest of 2060 is very different from the one you all know. For starters, the Seattle metropolitan area is a massive "colony" of the United Canadian and American States (UCAS).

Major Historical Events:
2002-2008: The Resource Rush, in which the last reserves of natural resources held on national parkland or Native American reservations are purchased by private corporations.
2009: The Sovereign American Indian Movement (SAIM) captures a Shiloh launch facility and intitiates the "Lone Eagle" missile attack. In response, the United States signs the Re-education and Relocation Act and Canada signs the similar Nepean Act. Both these laws inter thousands of Native Americans in the following year.
2011: A phenomenal number of unusual births (giving rise to the dwarves and elves) this year sweep the globe. On December 24, Daniel Howling Coyote, an apparent adept, leads a rebellion in the Abilene Re-education Camp.
2014: Howling Coyote declares the formation of both the Native American Nations (NAN) and the Sovereign Tribal Council (STC). He also claims responsibility for a series of volcanic eruptions across the country, which he says were caused in the Great Ghost Dance.
2014-2018: The Ghost Dance War.
2018: Finally admitting defeat, the US and Canada sign the Treaty of Denver, in which the NAN lays claim to much of western North America. The NAN nations are comprised of the Athabaskan Council, Algonkian-Manitou Council, Pueblo Corporate Council, Salish-Shidhe Council, Sioux Nation, Trans-Polar Aleut, Tsimshian, and Ute.
2021: "Goblinization" creates orks and trolls. First recorded case of HMHVV infection.
2029: The Great Crash. The world’s computer networks are disabled.
2030: The US and the remainder of Canada unite into the United Canadian and American States (UCAS).
2034: Another round of secession. This time, several Southern states secede, forming the Confederated American States (CAS). Southern Florida further secedes and joins the Caribbean League.
2035: The southern Sinsearach elves of the northwest form Tir Tairngire, and secede from the NAN.
2037: Tsimshian secedes from both the STC and NAN.
2039, February 27: The Night of Rage. Anti-metahuman riots flare across the globe.
2057: The great dragon Dunkelzahn, who had interfaced quite often with the media, is elected president of the UCAS. On the night of his inauguration, he is killed by an unknown assassin. A magical rift appears where he died.

My campaign is taking place in Seattle, and here’s what that area is like in 2060. The city itself is huge, the majority of what are currently suburbs being gobbled up by the urban sprawl. The city is a "colony" - although seperated by the NAN countries from the rest of the nation, it officially belongs to the UCAS. The current governor of the Seattle Metroplex is Ivar Lindstrom. Several corporations maintain a presence in Seattle.

- Ares: The pre-eminent arms corporation and maker of the legendary Predator handgun, Ares does quite a bit of business with the UCAS government. Their security branch, Knight Errant, has been steadily on the rise since cleaning up an infestation of insect spirits in Chicago problem (for the most part).
- Aztechnology: The big baddie of the corps. Aztechnology, for the most part is synonymous with the Mexican (actually, Aztlaner) government - or rather, the other way around. Nobody much likes Aztechnology, although their jobs tend to pay well. Their compound in Seattle is a huge building resembling an Aztec pyramid.
- Cross Applied Technologies: A newcomer onto the scene, Cross was a local corporation in Quebéc for years. After President Dunkelzahn died, Cross made out like bandits in his will. Competitor to Ares.
- Mitsuhama: A computer corporation, Mitsuhama is known as one you really don’t want to mess with: they’re rumored to be involved (practically controlled by) the yakuza.
- Novatech: Another computer corp. Previously Fuchi, but I’m kinda fuzzy on how it became Novatech.
- Renraku: Yet another computer corp. Renraku is best known for the Renraku Arcology, a massive construction project it was undertaking in downtown Seattle. In a massive PR letdown for the corp, the Arcology went into a complete lockdown state in late 2059, trapping hundreds of people (including former Seattle governor Marilyn Schultz) inside.
- Wuxing: Owned by the Chinese and based in Hong Kong, Wuxing is involved in magical research (IIRC). Rumored to be allied with the Chinese Triads.
- Yamatetsu: The biotech corp.

There’s tons of others (Lone Star, Gaeatronics, Shiawase, Universal Omnitech) but these are the big ones.

Seattle is enveloped on all sides by the lands of the Salish-Shidhe Council. Here’s the major players there, and the lands they control: Cascade Crow (NE of Seattle), Cascade Ork (E of Seattle), Nootka (far north, bordering on Tsimshian), Makah (N Olympic Peninsula), Salish (S Olympic Peninsula), Sinsearach (S of Seattle). Once again, there’s tons of minor tribes not listed here. South of Seattle (present-day Oregon) is the xenophobic elven nation of Tir Tairngire, ruled by the reclusive Lugh Surehand.

 

[Andrew D. Gable]

Here's a map of the northwest of 2060. Kinda rough, but you get the idea.

 

[Andrew D. Gable]

First Session: Part One

September 5, 2060
11:35 PM

The ork growled to himself as he stepped down off of his Harley-Davidson Scorpion. Taking care to conceal his weapons carefully, Plunkett and the dreadlocked troll he’d hooked up with upon arrival here in Seattle, a big bleeder who called himself Rasta, approached the front doors of the club. Dante’s Inferno was reknowned as the premier hangout of shadowrunners and their agents. The ogre bouncers working the door gave the two runners only a cursory pat-down and then ushered them through the doors into the club.

"How you s’posed to find any’un here?" asked the troll. Plunkett gazed up to the form towering over him - which was saying something, when Plunkett himself was nearly 7 feet tall - and shook his head.

"I dunno. Ask, maybe?"

The two walked up to the bar. The bartender/owner was known to be friendly towards shadowrunners, and grinned as he recognized two of what were sure to be frequent customers at the Inferno. "And what can I do for you chums?" the dark-haired man asked as the rather intimidating pair strode up to his bar.

"Any work for us ‘round here, mon?" the troll in his accented voice.

The bartender studied the pair. "Well, the best agent I can recommend for beginners such as yourselves is ol’ Gunderson, over there." He gestured with a cybered arm towards a dimly-lit booth.

The middle-aged man in the booth was balding and somewhat overweight. He wore a threadbare, pea-green suit that was the ugliest thing either runner had ever seen - and growing up in ork and troll communities, that was saying a lot.

"Hoi, chummers!" said Gunderson in an oddly-accented voice as the runners walked up to his table. "I can always tell when potential new clients are about! I have an eye for them, you might say! Har!" He cackled as he made a pointing gesture from his eye to the runners. Great, thought Plunkett. Not only gross but annoying, too. "You look for work, eh? Well Gunderson has the goods for you, as you might say. I have been contacted by a news organization of some sort, they have a job they wish to have done." He scribbled a note onto a bar napkin. "The client, he waits for you in Hell. Take this and show it to those bouncers over there, and they will show you the way to Hell. Now go!"

Plunkett and Rasta exchanged glances as they wandered over to the bouncers Gunderson had pointed out. They cautiously held out the napkin, and the bouncer - the biggest non-cybered human either of the runners had ever seen - grabbed it in his pudgy fingers. "Let them through," he spoke into his headset. Then he stepped aside, the way open for the runners to advance down a set of wrought-iron steps. After about 30 feet there was another checkpoint and another gang of bouncers. These stepped aside, and the runners proceeded down more stairs into a huge room.

It looked much like the dancefloors in every other club they’d ever been to, except for the fact that they couldn’t see into any of the booths. It was as if the booth was totally cloaked in shadow. "You’re the runners Gunderson sent?" said a small voice at Rasta’s shoulder. The massive troll spun on one booted foot to stare down a tiny (in his eyes) human. Among humans, he was probably a good-sized guy. "Ahh, I can see you are. This way."

The human led them through the throngs of other runners to one booth in particular. He lit up a cigarette and offered the runners one as he passed into the darkness. "It’s safe," he muttered, sensing their hesitation. The two runners sat in the seat opposite the man and a woman, obviously his joygirl for the night. Well, Plunkett sat. Rasta stood.

The man pressed a button on the table. "White noise generator, to thwart any eavesdroppers. My name is Kyle Weatherstone," the man said between drags on his cigarette. "I work for NewsNet, you may have heard of us. We’re investigating the Renraku Arcology shutdown. North America’s just dying to know what’s going on in there. What we’d like you to do is help us out." Another drag. "Hunt around, see if you can find out what’s going on there."

"Sounds easy enough. What’s the pay?" Plunkett asked.

"3,500 nuyen."

"’kay. We’ll do it," Plunkett replied after consulting Rasta.

"Excellent," said Weatherstone. Find a Sarah Weisman at Club Penumbra, across from the Arcology. She may have information of use."

The two runners nodded and left Weatherstone’s table.


As they were walking to their bikes, the two heard sounds of a scuffle ensuing in an alleyway beside the club. They investigated to find a small gang of three orks beating an elf senseless.

"Who’re you?" snapped one of the orks, looking up to see the two massive forms. "I don’t know yous, so frag off!"

"Huh?" Rasta said, cracking his ham-sized knuckles. Plunkett held up his hand to stay the troll. "Why the attitude, brother?" he said, appealing to the orks’ sense of brotherhood.

"Dis ain’t none o’ your concern, chief, so go blow, eh?" the apparent leader of the orks said, yelled rather. "If ya gotta know, we thought we’d get us a little extra cash, ain’t that right, boys?" The other two orks guffawed. "Or are ya some kind of elf-lover, ‘s that it?"

"Not at all," Plunkett replied, walking over towards the elf’s body. "In fact," he said, heaving him up - the orks prepared for a fight here - "he owes me money too!" upon which he delivered a massive blow to the elf’s solar plexus. The ork gangers guffawed at this action.

Rasta, meanwhile, had pulled out a shotgun and blasted one of the orks. He fell in a red rain as his head practically exploded with the force of the blast. A switchblade-wielding ork ran at the troll, while the leader, swinging a length of chain, advanced on Plunkett. "Thought ya pulled one over on us, did ya?" he growled, smacking him upside the head. "Well ain’t nobody pulls one over on ol’ Joey F.!"

By the time Plunkett recovered fully from the blow, Rasta’s Mossberg shotgun had sounded again, leaving another dead ork in its wake. Only Joey remained. Plunkett pulled out his Smith & Wesson Thunderblast and let loose a burst into the ork. He fell, bloodied.

The two helped the elf (who introduced himself groggily as Jonathan Kelly, AKA Ghost) to Plunkett’s bike and high-tailed it out of there before the cops arrived. Even now, they could hear approaching sirens.

 

[Dungannon]

Ahh, corporate intrigue & senseless street violence. I miss Shadowrun. Where's Mr. Johnson, though?

 

[Andrew D. Gable]

Where's Mr. Johnson, though?

Ach! My screw-up. Weatherstone is Mr. Johnson. I have him using his real name because this isn't a "high-profile" run. I generally use Mr. Johnsons for the megacorps (which NewsNet isn't). He'll be showing up later, though.

 

[Andrew D. Gable]

First Session, Part Two

September 6, 2060
1:00 AM

The roadhogs squealed to a stop along the curb out front of Club Penumbra, the nightspot where Weatherstone had told them to meet Ms. Weisman. On the trip over, Ghost had become more lucid and had formally introduced himself as a hermetic mage. Fine with Plunkett - Ghost would provide the astral cover, he and Rasta the gunmetal to back it up.

The three runners entered the club and asked around for Sarah Weisman. Eventually, they tracked down a thin girl with lank hair so blond it was almost white. She looked up at the runners as they approached with shaded eyes, nervously glancing away. She had all the telltale signs of a junkie.

"Sarah?" Plunkett asked.

"Yeah?"

"Weatherstone sent us. Said you had info on the Renraku deal you could share."

She nodded. "Mebbe I will. But I need ya to do something for me, first." She turned towards a back exit into an alley behind the club. "Follow me."

The four exited the club into the alley and almost collided with a street bum, who narrowly avoided running into the massive Plunkett only to run into Rasta’s chest. After staring up at the troll - who would make almost two of him - the bum ran off screaming.

"’S okay," Sarah said. "We don’t get many trolls out this way is all. That guy’s used to humans and elves mostly." She reached into her leather jacket and pulled out a test tube of some bluish liquid. "I’ll need you guys to run this to Fast Freddie’s, under the fish restaurant down on the pier. I’ll wait for you in here."

Sarah went back into the club while the runners went to their bikes, the shadow of the Renraku Arcology looming overhead as a constant reminder to them. The red neon along the outside of the Arcology illuminated the street as they sped towards the piers.

They parked their bikes at the base of the pier and walked around to the back of the fish restaurant, a ramshackle white building and to a metal door. A microcamera up above whirred to meet the runners. "We bring news," Ghost shouted at the camera. "Leatherface is dead." The password Sarah had told them.

The door slid open and the runners were ushered inside by a doctor in a blue medical getup. "Follow me," he said as he led the runners down a hallway lined with all manner of cyberware to a door marked C. MAIJALLA. "Dr. Maijalla?" he said to the black woman inside. "Some men to see you."

"Ah, yes," she said. "Do you have the vaccine?" When the runners nodded, she held out her hand. "Give it to me." Plunkett handed over the test tube and Dr. Maijalla handed him a small optical chip in return. "Give this to Sarah," she said. "She’ll know what to do. And here’s some money for you. You are mercenaries, after all."

"What is that?" Ghost asked, pointing at the vaccine.

"This," Dr. Maijalla answered, holding the glass tube up to the light, "is an experimental compound swiped from a Yamatetsu lab. It’s meant to lessen the trauma caused by the implantation of cyberware. Supposedly, it works pretty well."

Ghost nodded and the three runners left the bodyshop, taking a swift ride back up the strip to Club Penumbra. About midway there, Rasta was bathed in the glow from the headlights of a box truck behind their cycles. As they moved to duck down a side street, they were cut off by an approaching limo. The limo and truck slowed and halted, and out of the vehicles issued several Japanese men clad in red and black - the colors of Renraku security.

One of the Japanese men spoke up in the halting English of a businessman used to dealing with other Japanese. "We understand you’ve been looking into the shutdown of the Arcology."

"Of the what?" Rasta asked.

The Japanese man narrowed his eyes. "I would suggest that you do not play stupid with me," he said. Ghost looked downward - the man’s hand resting on the handle of some pistol or another told him that it would really be suggested. Plunkett followed the elf’s eyes and saw the gun handle and nodded briefly.

"Not looking too deeply," he said.

"Who is your employer?" the man asked. Taking the runners’ lack of an answer as confirmation of his fears. "It is not the media, is it?"

"Maybe."

The company man looked ready to spit bullets. "We would most cordially ask you not release any information you may uncover, unless it is to us. You see-"

"Yes?"

"-you see, we have no more idea on what is going on in the Arcology than do you. This could prove a bad thing for our company, no?" The runners looked nonplussed. "We will double the price your employer is paying, should you help us."

The runners thought about this and eventually agreed. "Excellent," the man said. He and his driver got back in the limo while another of the men plugged some contact information into the group’s minicomputer.

"Stay in touch," the man said as he and his squad re-entered the truck. Both truck and limo departed, leaving the runners standing in the street. Confused as hell and in a not-so-great part of town.

 

[Andrew D. Gable]

Session 2: 2/5/03

September 6, 2060
4:15 AM
Once back at Club Penumbra, they sought out Sarah. When they found her, Plunkett dropped the datachip into her hand. She nodded and motioned the runners to follow her as she once again ducked out the backdoor into the alley and entered into an apparently deserted building next door.

"The folks at Fast Freddie’s are mixed up with some runner types, in case you hadn’t noticed. This chip here has a set of Matrix coordinates on it. Procured by a fellow decker named RipperJack.

"When the Arcology shut down, it went into full shutdown mode. And I do mean full. All entrances and exits were closed up with blast doors, and even the Arcology’s LTG was disconnected off the Seattle grid. There’s been brief traffic between an Arcology access node and the grid.

"These coordinates are for the sector of the grid that’s getting traffic. RipperJack says that there’s some heavy, heavy security around these coordinates, implying there’s some heavy, heavy paydirt in there. Let’s take a look see."

She pulled a small electronic recorder of some sort out of a pocket, flipped the top and popped in a miniature CD. Sarah inserted the datachip into the other end of the recorder, and jacked herself in.

"Miniature Novatech Hyperdeck, satellite uplinked," she said.

The three runners kept an eye out in the alleyway as Sarah scanned the Matrix. After a few moments, she came out hurriedly. "Tell ya what, boys," she mumbled, leaning back against the wall. "Jack wasn’t lyin’. There’s some major, major IC on there."

"You OK?" Rasta asked.

"Yeah. I managed to swipe a bit of info for ya." She pointed at her minideck. "Just lemme catch my breath."

Sarah closed her eyes and it seemed like she had fallen asleep. But then, after several moments, she awoke. "Like I said, I got some info. Scan this." She punched a few keys on her minideck and white text appeared on the miniature blue screen. "This looks to be a tech readout," she said, telling them all about before they could read it. She glanced back and forth before she continued, in a soft voice. "Tech readout mentions a Renraku employee, a Dr. Daniel Kaminsky, who was apparently a major player in whatever’s happening."

"Apparently a printout of a summary of the Arcology’s computerized security systems. And…and while I was in there I saw some things. Moving things, ‘living’ things. But it wasn’t IC. It didn’t move the same way, that’s the best I can put it."

The runners nodded and followed Sarah back into the club. "I’m hangin’ here," she said. "You go on. Find Dr. Kaminsky."

September 6, 2060
3:15 PM
When the runners finally awoke the next day (a hard night of drinking and violence will do a number on you) in the abandoned warehouse they had appropriated, the first thing they did after their morning run to the Stuffer Shack for some eats was to get to doing some research on Dr. Kaminsky.

Ghost’s fingers danced across the keyboard of the public computer access terminal. A brief scan of the Matrix turned up the information that Dr. Kaminsky was an employee of Renraku, although the site they found (on a private grid or PLTG, the equivalent of a website) wasn’t clear on what exactly he did other than computer systems design. The same PLTG also held an address up in the Queen Anne’s section of the city.

Tonight’s run would be infiltration of Kaminsky’s home. And maybe they could finally get to the bottom of what was happening.

 

[Horacio]

More, please

Time for an update...

 

[D'arc DeWinter]

Great Story Hour so far!

I too am a fan of the Shadowrun universe, but not a big fan of the system. I'm interested in how you approached the conversion to D20. Do you have a web site for the campaign or any conversion notes that you could share?

In particular, how did you convert cyberware? How do you handle spirits and summoning?

In the meantime, keep up the good work. I'm looking forward to future updates.