CyberPunk 2020 Question

A less cartoonish way to portrait monsters is to use the Night's Edge supplement. There's a whole section with psychic powers that could be used for "enhanced" humans.

In my opinion monsters and supernatural stuff should be used sparingly. Take for example a cop campaign where the characters are chasing, what they think is a cyberpsycho, only to find out later that it's not a cyberpsycho but some illegal genetic experiment that turned against his creators and is now chasing them down.

I was struck by the new Beyond Good & Evil Trailer and wanted to use genetically/cybernetically altered apes and pigs as the sick megacorp project.

Also I want the villian to be a 313 Stormer from SLA Industries

Probably a more threatening picture

Though a 711 "Xeno" Stormer would make a good backup.

Just give them superhuman stats and toughness.

That said, if you're really into biomods Savage World: Interface Zero 2.0 or dx/Tristat: ExMachina are the better choice. IZ 2.0 already features biomods and ExMachina doesn't have an equipment list. It's kind of free form - you choose advantages and then explain how you got it (if you're super tough you can say that it's from subdermal armor, from nanomachines, or from some kind of biomod). Finally, if you really want a SLA-type setting, just use SLA Industries or the SLA conversion for Savage Worlds.

...

>SLA Industries
Those Hunter Sheets 2 books are never going to appear, are they?

Course not, they're Glaswegians, drunk and intelligible.

>Unintelligible

They were meant to be getting a shortfall print run of 100-odd done for UKGE after the original 100-book run vanished somewhere between Gdynia and wherever the freighter's next port of call was. They haven't mentioned anything since May 26, though.

>the original 1000-book run
Whoops

Hopefully they're sober enough to get Shi'An and Whispering Bridge out sometime in the next year or two, because after that it's SLA 2.0.

Was the 17 mm pistol ammo ever errata'd to have actual stats? It's got a price of half that of normal 17 mm ammo, but no entry in the PEN table and a blank line in the DAM table.

Well humans have a maximum of 10, in SLA, just like in CP2020

However the lowest any character could have was 5 in a characteristic

313 Stormer have different limits
STR 15 DEX 13 DIA (Mental problem solving) 8 CONC (concentration) 8 CHA 8 COOL 15

So you just need to figure out the ratio and apply them to the different cyberpunk characteristics

Finaly a new CP2020 Thread... we realy need a general thread for this

>REF or die
>best cyberpunk game available

Just give them any old stats, it's not like they matter in cp. a Gm will just fudge rolls anyway.

youtube.com/watch?v=CTt1vk9nM9c

wow im not the only one who connects Maiden with Cyberpunk? i love listen to Brave New World while writing new adventures for my CP2020 group

>new Beyond Good & Evil Trailer
Niggers literally chimping out. Why would you want to imitate something so stupid?

On the other hand the amount of bestiality SFM porn this will generate will be enormous...

Bod 8 or 9, Ref 7 with other stats to your liking.

Could be a genome project gone wrong, literal human testing, AI monstrosity - your pick.

They could have a fuckton of SP on all locations, heal D6 health per turn, something like that.

I'm not sure if that was an intentional joke or a very hilarious mistake on the devs part. Just like "Detroit: Become Human"

Cyber-apes, clone extinct chimpanzees and stick skillwires and cybernetics in them to defend facilities.

Modify pigs with retrovirus to make them semi-humanoid, then cyber them up. A security force you can pay in slop and rent out for cash.

Put a lot of Solos out of work with a chimpanzee with a gun.

>Just like "Detroit: Become Human"
What happened with that?

A very memeable name and a plotline that almost has the jokes write themselves. Granted the game itself looks interesting, but still.

...

Das Racist!

>However the lowest any character could have was 5 in a characteristic
That's wrong. You start with 5 and get points for decreasing your stats below that.

Well the maximums are 7 and ten so the conversion number would be 1.429 therefore the minimum and max for stormer would be 3 - 10

Any maximums of 8 would be 5
Maximums of 15 become 10
Maximums of 13 become 9
Str becomes BOD
Dex becomes REF and MA
Dia and Conc become INT and TECH
Cha becomes AAT and EMP
Cool remains COOL
LUCK would have a maximum of 5 since Stormers aren't cosmological favoured due to their origins.

I was so annoyed when someone pointed out that despite the ridiculous levels of animation done on her breasts the disk she produces pretty much appears as if by magic.

Not only that but it actually clips through her hand.

Seems like they originally had it as something else, (flash drive or something maybe that would actually go between her breasts), then someone told them to make it a disk so it was larger and stood out more on screen.

What are their origins?

Grown in tubes using the souls from our universe which are being sucked into the World of Progress giving them regeneration beyond biological possibility and resistance to non-mystic weirdness.

>using the souls from our universe which are being sucked into the World of Progress
Is that Writer's Bible stuff?

Yes, but it was supposedly rendered non-canon.

But if a gay alien is actually a human soul revealed by playing Twisted Sisters on a earth CD-player while he morphs and reforms. (one of the Hunter Sheets)

Some part of it is still true.

I believe it was Hunter Sheet: Red alert, you were thinking of

>Break Out
Tott Detric had been sat in the small grey interrogation cell for hours. At least, it felt like hours; there was no
real way of knowing. There was no clock or window to mark the passage of time. Nothing in the room but two
steel chairs, one steel table, and the Cloak Division Agent stood by the door. Motionless.
For a while, Tott had begun to think that it was simply a statue as it had stood impossibly still for so long,
but when he’d attempted to rise from the table, the cold black mask of the Dark Finder turned, and Tott quietly
sat back down again.
So, he waited, and worried. He didn’t know what had happened to Alex, didn’t know if he were alive or dead.
When the Op squad burst in he ran and heard the exchange of gunfire, but after that everything had just been
a blur; the opening scenes to a terrible nightmare.
Tott had begun to delve deeper into his fears, when the bulkhead door hissed and opened to the cell.
An old man entered briskly, pushing a small trolley, bearing some small object, concealed beneath a white
sheet. He looked like a professor; dressed in a grey three-piece tweed suit. His polished shoes clicked noisily
on the metal grated floor as he approached the table.

>“Are you going to torture me?”
“Now,” the old man said, pausing to take his glasses off and wipe them with a patterned handkerchief, “you
are Tott Detric, this has been established.”
He looked up at the Wraithen as he placed the spectacles back on the bridge of nose.
“Yes?”
“Y-yes.”
“Splendid. I am Professor Charles Finch, the Departmental Head of Naga 7, but you will already be aware
of this.”
“No, I-I don’t know who you are.” Tott stammered.
“Ah, and there is the first little lie!” the Professor grinned.
“I don’t know you are!”
“Nostrum est Neotium Ut Scire, Mr Detric! Which is?” Professor Finch barked at the Wraithen and with hand
raised, waiting in expectation of the correct response.
In the silent pause, Tott Detric lowered his head.
“It is our business to know.” He whispered.
“Our motto, yes.” Professor Finch said, “You know this, because you’ve been doing a little, shall we say,
research of your own, hmm?”
Tott did not respond.
“You’ve tried to get material from Catalogue, haven’t you, Tott? You have more than a passing interesting in
Building, I’d wager. Your work on the Derro is … commendable, but cautiousness is not among your current
array of skills.”
“I just wanted to be left alone!”
“Oh, don’t be such a dullard, Tott! We’re all beyond this now, and let me tell you, it’s a dashed good job we
picked you up before, well, you know who.”
Tott looked up, straight at Professor Finch.
“I wouldn’t ha-“
Finch stopped him.

Tott, you wouldn’t have had a choice. Elliot Raik and that other one were already on their way to collect
you. Now listen to me, young fellow, you do have a choice from this moment on. You are with us or against
us. These times ahead of us will be rough, and we require absolutes. I can look after you, but you will need
to trust me.”
“Where is Alex? I want to see Alex, is he okay? I’m not agreeing to anything until I know he’s safe.”
Professor Finch let out a low, weary sigh. He cocked his head to one side, listening to the sound of approaching
footsteps.
He looked back at Tott and shrugged.
‘Oh dear, out of time, my boy.’
The bulkhead opened and Intruder stormed into the room.
Tott barely had time to raise his arms in defence before Intruder had grasped him by his collar and wrenched
him out of the chair.
The breath was knocked out of him as Intruder slammed him into a wall of the cell. He drew his face up to
the Wraithen, stared into his eyes.
Intruder was beyond pale now; he was grey. All the charm and attractiveness was gone, his eyes were dull
and bloodshot, and at this proximity, Tott could see the discoloured veins staining his temples.
“This is him, right? Another one these pricks?” Intruder spat the words, his head turned to address Professor
Finch.
“Indeed.”
Intruder snapped his head back to face Tott, and proceeded to tug at the Wraithen’s hair, checking the roots
to see the fur was a natural red, strong enough to tear clumps of it from the scalp.
Tott screamed in pain.

Professor Finch, intrigued, drew out a notepad from his breast pocket, and began to jot down a few shorthand
notes.
“What is that? What the fuck are you doing?” Intruder snapped at him.
“Oh this? Oh just a few interesting findings. The fact that you’re able to extract hair from a Builder is intriguing.
I assumed they couldn’t be damaged in the, shall we say, traditional sense.”
Intruder let Tott slump to the floor, as he considered the Professor’s suggestion.
“So, perhaps this little prick isn’t a Builder.”
“Now, Intruder let’s not be too hasty here. Perhaps we should wait for –“
Intruder reached into his coat and drew out a Blitzer. He spun the barrel to the Wraithen’s temple and pulled
the trigger.
Tott let out a brief yelp of terror, before the blast of the Hesh round deafened the room.
“Shit.” Intruder hissed.
He slowly dropped to his haunches and picked up the distorted, mushroomed bullet, then looked across at
the trembling youth.
Tott stared back at Intruder, wide eyed.
“Y-you fucking shot me. You … you tried t-to –“
“Yes, that’s right, I tried to kill you. And things would be a whole lot easier for everyone if your brains had
been coating that wall right now.”
Intruder looked back down at the ineffectual bullet in his hand, and exhaled.
“Here,” Intruder tossed it to Finch, who dropped his pen fumbling to catch it, “You can add this to Catalogue,
like it makes a bloody difference.”
He slid over to Tott, still huddled in the corner of the room.
“It was all fine until you fucks started turning up. I wanted it all to stay in the past, so we could all carry on.
Move forward in life. For ourselves, you know? But no, we have grey zones, Dream Entities and that … fucker,

who just won’t accept that he’s dead! And you, you … down in that shithole playing god. Do you honestly think
we need this shit added on top of everything we have to deal with right now? Do you? Do you!?”
Intruder grabbed him by the cheek and pulled him up. Intruder’s eyes had glazed over, he stared through
Tott, into his own thought process.
“I wish I knew you to kill you all. I wish I knew…” Intruder was murmuring now. He was no longer talking to
Tott; he was deep inside, looking for answers.
“Perhaps we should start over.”
The voice was quiet, and gentle.
Professor Finch turned quickly, and rose to acknowledge Mr Slayer, who was now stood in the doorway,
watching.
Intruder also rose, releasing the Wraithen from his grip. He sauntered over to the table, brushing himself
down, adjusting his coat lapels.
Slayer stepped inside, and looked across at the frightened boy.
Tott had seen posters of Slayer; they were pasted all over Downtown. In these images he looked so large
and imposing. He’d read that Slayer was meant to be nine feet tall and built like a tank. The man stood before
him was just over six foot in height, and stood about eye to eye with Intruder, his second in command. And
then, there was his face.
“This,” Slayer nodded, motioning to the appalling disfigurement that stretched the majority of his face,
“you’re somewhat privileged to see? Not many people get to see the real me.”
“You’re not Slayer.” Tott said quietly, backing further into the wall.
“Oh, I assure, I am. What you see is what you get? Or in my case, what you give is what you get. I have to
pay for I’ve done, for what I am, and so will you.”

Slayer sat down at the table, and was immediately flanked by Finch and Intruder.
“Now, you have met Professor Finch, the 1st Head of Naga 7, and Jack Walker, also known as Intruder.
Two people, like myself, who care deeply about the future of this company. In time, you’ll feel the same way,
I promise you.”
Slayer glanced up briefly at Intruder, then back at Tott.
“Intruder doesn’t like to be called Jack Walker, he prefers to live in the present, in a world where he’s the
Father of the Ebon race, the last of a forgotten people. I myself am I little more nostalgic in recent years, but I
appreciate his sentiment, if not his methods.
“But Intruder is of course, not Jack Walker. He is not the brother of Brent Walker. Jack died in 1978. A motorcycle
accident. Birmingham. None of these words, these phrases have meaning, Or do they? … Are you
feeling unwell, Tott?”
It was too much for Tott, this morning he’d been sat in bed with Alex, writing notes in his journal, and now
he was crouched in the presence of three of the most important figures in the World of Progress. One or more
of them wanted him dead.
“Tott, come on, get up off the floor,” Slayer continued, “Let’s continue this conversation face to face.”
Tentatively, Tott got up and edged over to the seat. His eyes never left Intruder, who’s cruel gaze was fixed
upon him. It was pure hate, Tott had never seen anything quite like it: that total sincerity, the unwavering hatred.
“Don’t worry too much about Intruder for now, he’s given his best try at killing and he’ll have to reconsider
more elaborate ways of destroying you. Let’s move on.”
Tott sat down at the table, but couldn’t meet Slayer’s gaze.
“Yes, it’s regrettable.” Slayer said, “my face takes some getting used to; I guess I never really have. A few
years ago I was able to hide it. You’ve no doubt seen the pictures, but more recently …”
Slayer’s eyes grew distant.
“I can’t seem to cover the scars.”

He absentmindedly raised his hand to touch his face. Then stopped.
Slayer looked back at the Wraithen. Some of his old power returned to him.
“L-look I just want to leave. I don’t want to be a … a SLA Op, or a Builder, or whatever it is you want me to
be!” Tott’s voice was wavering; the intense mounting pressure of the situation was gnawing at his nerves. His
voice growing ever more shrill.
“I want to see to Alex! I want to know that you haven’t killed him! I want to see him now, or I won’t help you!
I swear you won’t get anything from me! Y-you can’t kill me, and you tried!! I’m NOT AFRAID OF YOU.”
Tott stood bolt upright, ready to exit, but instantly realised he had no idea what to do or where to go.
Slayer simply watched him, and waited. Waited for him to diminish.
“One of the problems I encounter on a daily basis is that I can’t express joy, which is ironic, because I always
look like I’m smiling. So, let me assure you now – I’m actually smiling, right now. Because you remind
me of someone. A friend I’ve not seen in a very long time.” Slayer nodded, “Please, sit down. I want to explain
something to you.”
Tott was now on the verge of tears, he slumped down in the chair and put his head in his hands.
“Intruder has tried to kill you using conventional means, but having the physical make up that you do makes
this difficult. You’ll be more resistant to persuasion, and forcible encouragement. I, however, have a better
way of inspiring you to work for SLA Industries; would you like to see?” Slayer smiled, his voice light and invested.
Tott looked up to see Slayer pull away the sheet from the table, exposing the object underneath. He was
expecting a cold steel case with torture tools behind a glass pane, or some elaborate Necanthrope device for
inducing pain.
But it was a candy red plastic box, with two clear compartments with twin bolts sticking out.

Tott began to laugh as he saw the frayed rubber-coated handle on
top of the device, which looked to have a hairline fracture down one side.
“W-what is this, some kind of joke?” Tott asked, incredulously, “is it some sort of stereo; are you going to kill
me with elevator music? Some easy listening?”
Professor Finch grinned, and chuckled along with the giggling Wraithen.
Neither Intruder, nor Slayer responded at all. They simply stared on and waited for him to settle.
“See? See?!” Finch said, “Didn’t I say he was good?”
“Tott,” Slayer said, ignoring Finch, “please put your hand on the table.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m asking you, politely.”
“Do as he says or I’ll do my damnedest to kick your teeth out.” Intruder said.
Tott uncertainly lifted his hand and laid it to rest on the surface.
“Now,” Slayer said, finally, “you are quite right. This is indeed a type of stereo, but a very old one. As a basic
concept, it is fairly innocuous, but I think you’ll find it rather surprising when I do this.”
Slayer reached across, and pressed play on the tape recorder.
The tape head began to slowly turn, and crackly music rose and filled the room.
The song “Breakout” by Swing Out Sister played. Tott didn’t know the song, but his body did.
“You’re insane …” Tott said, “you’re fucking insane! I feel like I’m in the loony bin! What the fuck is going
on!?”
The lyrics twisted in his head.
Slayer watched him, never blinking. Motionless.
“I swear if I cou-” Tott’s tirade broke off mid-sentence.
The tingling began in his fingertips, like when the circulation was briefly cut off to a limb. Then cold, searing
ice working its way up his up hand to the wrist.

Tott’s whole hand began to convulse, uncontrollably. The red fur instantly began to shred from the backs of
his finger, but as soon as they touched the table, they vanished. They were simply gone. Then the claws, one
of which bounced on the metal, yet disappeared a second later.
He had a brief glimpse of his human hand before a bolt of white-hot agony struck his whole arm. Tott
screeched in pain, the sudden blow pitching him from the chair.
He rolled across the steel grating, the pain governing his every jarring movement. His stricken eyes gazed
down and saw that his whole hand had morphed into human. Even the sleeve of his coat had shifted to a
completely different fashion, each thread and stitch tugging and shifting to adhere to a new actuality.
The song wound on, from cheerful chorus to ringing verse, drilling deeper into Tott.
Slayer got up from his chair and stood over Tott Detric. He paused for a moment and raised his voice to
be heard above the boy’s screams.
“Ridiculous, isn’t it, Tott!” Slayer called, “that this, this nonsense, can do so much damage! It isn’t the
music doing this to you; the song is neither apt nor important! The device comes from the world behind us,
and the influence is stronger than our own! Even here, in our own world! Essentially, essentially you are there
NOW! And you do not belong! So that pain so terrible is that reality is reconstructing you, turning you into a
more palatable shape for Earth!”
“Pleeease, make it stop!!! I’ll do anything, j-just … stooopp!!”
“It’s not your fault, you’re only human, Tott!”
“Plllleeeease!!!”
By now the reconstitution had began to work on his features, working strenuously to flatten his face, hammer
his snout into a nose. One eye pupil had already turned blue.
“I’m doing this to prove a point, Tott! You are the victim! I can hurt you! I will hurt you! Until you do as I
say! Do you understand?!”
“Yeeeessss!!!!”

Slayer looked round, and nodded once to Finch.
Finch pressed pause on the tape, and silence returned.
In that instant, all the agony, all the reshaping was gone. Tott rushed his hands up before his face: Wraithen.
He hurriedly set about feeling his neck, his face: Wraithen.
“It doesn’t seem possible, does it?” Slayer said, “we appear so strong, but we are weak. So vulnerable, like
paper. All it takes is a stronger, older authority and everything topples. We’re never going to survive unless we
get stronger and find ways to close up the gaps.”
Tott lay perfectly still, catching his breath. The pain was so far removed now and it almost felt like it had
never been there, but the shock; it had taken it out of him and reduced him to emptiness.
“All right…” Tott whispered.
Slayer looked back across at Finch.
The music started up, and the pain and screams returned, only this time is was stronger, as if the reconfiguration
were a wild beast and had found its prey once more.
“Why are you doing this!?”
There were tears in amongst the shrieks now, Tott rolled and looked up at Slayer, pleading with freckled
human arms.
“I’m sorry, Tott. But I have to be certain, and there can be no doubt. Do you understand?”
“Yes!!!”
Slayer rose and walked over to the tape recorder. He reached his hand down to switch it off, but slowed,
and turned the volume dial up.
“I don’t believe you, and we have a long way to go, you and I. Not to worry, though, there only another seven
tracks to go.”
Slayer took his chair, lifted it across and placed it in front of Tott Detric. He sat back down, stroked Tott’s
head and waited for the music to end.

This is stupidly edgey.

>there are only another seven tracks to go.”
>8-tracks
Fuckin criminal.