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Scene 1 - Mr. and Mrs. Hyrel's Apartment
Sat, 31 Oct 2026 05:57:08 +0000

"It was completely sudden, Detective," Mrs. Hyrel said, her voice carrying a fragile, delicate tremor. "I was right there in my chair, completely immersed in a show. As you know, the stereoscopic feed locks you in–there is no sound, no movement, no outside world for hours. To break the thread for even a second ruins the entire emotional build-up."

She took a slow, shivering breath, casting a brief, mournful look toward Herbert's slumping frame.

"When the production finally ended, I took off the headset to go change into my nightwear. That was when I looked over and saw him... slumped like that, his jaw open, his eyes completely vacant. I rushed over and touched his face, but he was already ice cold. I ran straight to the bathroom to compose myself, threw on my gown, and called your dispatch immediately."

Detective Nova Reyes listened intently, her silver-white hair catching the ambient glare of the city outside. She didn't press immediately. Instead, she slowly circled Herbert's chair, her tactical boots making barely a sound on the floor. She locked eyes with the Sentinel and gave a subtle, silent nod–an implicit command to sweep the body.

Nova immediately turned back to the widow, her expression softening into practiced professional empathy. "You did the right thing, Mrs. Hyrel. What show were you watching at the time? I apologize, I must collect as much information as I can based on your recollection, because the cause of death is inclusive at this time."

Mrs. Hyrel smoothed the lapel of her blue plastifur pajamas, letting out a long, weary sigh that seemed almost rehearsed. She offered Nova a look of polite, tight-lipped tolerance, though the slight flare of her nostrils betrayed her irritation at being pressed.

"It was The Velvet Labyrinth, Detective," Mrs. Hyrel said smoothly, her voice dropping into a soft, sorrowful rhythm. "One of the newer immersive sex-operas out of the lower sectors. A sensory drama." She gestured toward the heavy, stereoscopic telovis resting on the side table, her manicured fingers brushing near its plastic casing.

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Audit Compliance
Sat, 03 Oct 2026 10:53:38 +0000

The rain was hammering against the reinforced glass of the BlastersBB showroom, turning the neon sign outside into a blurred streak of crimson and electric blue. Aoi was leaning over the main counter, resting her chin in her palm as she watched the digital clock tick lazily toward 3:00 PM.

It had been a slow, quiet Tuesday–the kind of shift where her primary duties consisted of wiping down glass display cases and convincing overly ambitious teenagers that no, they couldn't fit a Class-4 plasma battery into a basic starter frame without melting their own gloves.

The chime above the front door trilled, and Aoi perked up, her customer service mask sliding into place out of pure muscle memory.

"Welcome to BlastersBB, where we–oh. Hey, Mr. Kuroda."

An elderly man in a neatly pressed, slightly faded beige trench coat stepped inside, shaking his umbrella before slipping it into the stand by the door. His hair was silver, his posture impeccably straight, and he carried a faint scent of mint and old paper.

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Totally Normal Customer
Fri, 02 Oct 2026 23:26:48 +0000

"I need a rifle," he said.

Aoi picked up her inventory scanner and nodded. "Sure. What are you planning to use it for?"

The customer thought about the question for a surprisingly long time before answering, "...Shooting."

Aoi stopped typing. She looked at him for a moment, trying to determine whether he was joking. His expression suggested that he wasn't. "That's usually what they're for," she said.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly."

Aoi resisted the urge to sigh and decided that perhaps she had simply asked the wrong question. She set the scanner down and leaned against the counter. "Okay, let's try this another way. What do you want to use it for?"

"I don't know."

Aoi's eyebrows rose slightly. "Do you have experiences with any other blasters?"

"I don't know."

"What's your budget?"

"I don't know."

She stared at him for a moment before glancing toward the ceiling as if hoping someone from management might suddenly appear and rescue her. Nobody did. "Okay," she said, returning her attention to him. "Do you know what kind of rifle you're looking for?"

"Yes."

That answer caught her off guard. After everything else he'd said, she had been expecting another "I don't know." Aoi straightened, picked up her scanner again, and smiled. "Great. What kind?"

The customer turned and pointed toward the back of the store.

"That one."

Aoi followed his finger and immediately regretted asking. Behind a section of reinforced glass stood the V-90 Thunderhawk, BlastersBB's enormous military-grade centerpiece. The rifle was so large and imposing that it looked less like something a person might purchase and more like something that belonged mounted to a military vehicle. It had its own display case, security system, and holographic information panel, and Aoi had once overheard a customer ask whether it came with its own transportation permit.

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Neon Salvation
Fri, 02 Oct 2026 23:53:27 +0000

Lena broke Vex's trance. "You ok? You seem different tonight."

Vex slowly turned from Kael's face, glanced at the ground and softly agreed, "yeah."

"Marcus is relieving me. I'm ready to go home after a full day. I'll help you drop this guy off. Where we headed?"

Vex responded softly again, "My pad."

Lena looked at her bewildered, and muttered, "Wow. First time."

The three of them loaded Kael into Lena's car.

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Introducing Off-Gridders
Sat, 12 Sep 2026 08:34:12 +0000

A new section has been added to the Future Earth supplement: Off-Gridders.

Although most people in the Future Earth setting live within the highly connected Neo-Metropolises, not everyone wants to remain part of modern civilization. Some people choose to live in remote areas while still following the laws and regulations of society. Others take their independence much further.

Off-Gridders are people who deliberately disconnect themselves from the systems that connect them to civilization. They may avoid government registration, centralized computer networks, electronic identification, and other forms of modern infrastructure. Many attempt to become self-sufficient, living in remote forests, jungles, mountains, deserts, or other isolated locations.

Off-Gridders are not necessarily criminals, nor are they necessarily opposed to technology. Many continue to use advanced equipment such as computers, solar power systems, medical devices, drones, and communications equipment. What they reject is their dependence upon centralized systems and the regulations that come with them.

The new section explores who the Off-Gridders are, why people choose this lifestyle, how they survive outside the normal systems of society, and how governments, corporations, and ordinary citizens view them.

If you're interested in exploring the people who have chosen to live outside the grid, check out the new Off-Gridders section of Future Earth.

They aren't trying to escape technology. They're trying to escape dependence on it.

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7:00 AM Headache
Mon, 31 Aug 2026 04:15:16 +0000

The customer looked at her. "Does this happen often?"

Aoi picked up her coffee. "Only on days ending in 'day.'"

She walked back toward the front counter.

The customer smiled. "I'll take that Viper-X9 Plasma Carbine. A new one."

Aoi stopped. "Of course you will."

She looked at the clock. 7:14 AM. Fourteen minutes into her shift. Aoi took a long sip of coffee. "This is going to be a very long day."

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Sloane Personality Profile
Mon, 31 Aug 2026 03:04:48 +0000

Her defining traits

  • Battle-hardened: Sloane has seen enough death that she doesn't romanticize violence. She understands exactly what a firefight costs. She kills when necessary, but she doesn't enjoy it.
  • Extremely composed: In a crisis, she becomes calmer rather than panicked. Explosions, gunfire, blood, screaming–her brain immediately switches into problem-solving mode.
  • Blunt: She doesn't sugarcoat things. If someone's plan is terrible, she'll tell them it's terrible.
  • Dry sense of humor: Her humor tends to appear at the worst possible moments. A firefight might be raging around her while she casually mutters something like, "Well. This could've gone better."
  • Protective: She instinctively positions herself between danger and her companions. Sometimes she doesn't even realize she's doing it.
  • Loyal to a fault: Once someone earns her trust, Sloane doesn't abandon them easily. Betraying that trust is one of the few things that can make her genuinely furious.
  • Suspicious of authority: Years of military experience have taught her that uniforms and titles don't necessarily mean competence–or morality. She respects people, not institutions.
  • Independent: She hates being micromanaged and is perfectly comfortable operating alone.
  • Pragmatic: Sloane isn't interested in ideological purity. She cares about what actually works and who gets home alive.
  • Quietly compassionate: She won't necessarily hug someone and tell them everything will be okay. Instead, she'll silently sit beside them, hand them a weapon, patch their wounds, or make sure they've eaten.

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