Hobby RIFTS THE FIREHOUSE.

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

FIREHOUSE NO. 4

This is the game.

You are not saving the world. You run supernatural pest control out of a dead firehouse in a slum Burb stacked against Chi-Town. People come to the sign when something is in the walls, in the oven, in the cistern, or in the neighbor.

How you got the building is ugly and we can pick it at the table.

Inherited from somebody who did not come back.

Stolen because the last crew skipped town.

Dumped on you because a City Rat said the sign still works and somebody had to sleep there.

Does not matter yet. You have keys or you have a crowbar. Same result.
The building

Two story brick. One bay door that sticks. A pole nobody trusts. Lockers that smell like old gear. A cork board with tickets. A cistern out back that gurgles when it rains. Upstairs is bunks and a kitchen that works if you hit the pipe. The sign out front still buzzes.

FIREHOUSE NO. 4
RIFT, PEST AND PROBLEM REMOVAL

We do demons, D-Bees, hauntings, leaking nexuses, and my neighbor is a vampire. Sliding scale. No Coalition questions asked.

Sliding scale means a baker pays in bread and a warning. A Black Market guy pays in credits. A mom pays in a name you did not want. You need money. You also live here. If you squeeze every client you get ISS attention or you get a brick through the window.
The neighborhood

Shanty side of the Burbs. Laundry lines. Mud. Scrap neon. People who do not ask your real name. Chi-Town sits on the horizon like a boot. Dead Boys roll through when they feel like it. ISS kicks a door when they want a mage, an unregistered psychic, a D-Bee, or a body for the report. Dog Boys sniff the block. City Rats know the roofs.

Your neighbors are the job board.
The bakery two streets over.

The apartments where kids lose teeth and something answers.

The cistern.

The guy who swears his roommate is not human.

The stool pigeon who will sell you out for a meal.

How a job works

Somebody pins a ticket or bangs on the bay door.

You ask questions in the neighborhood.

You go look.

You try not to light up in the street.
You either fix it, fake that you fixed it, or make it worse and get paid anyway.

Then you come home and wipe the table.

That is the loop. Bakery oven one night. Faeries the next. Deserter in the water after that. If ISS is circling, the job is not the monster. The job is not getting the house burned down.

What this is not

Not the Coalition war.

Not Tolkeen homework.

Not a dragon in the first week.

Not you opening a Rift because it would be cool.

Not one guy’s secret god eating the campaign.

If your character has a big ugly past, cool. Keep it in your coat until the table finds it. The firehouse meets the person who sleeps in the bunk.

Who you can be

City Rat

Merc or Headhunter

Scout who got stuck in town

Rogue Scholar or Scientist

Body Fixer

Vagabond

Cyber-Knight if you can stand being the decent one

Juicer

Psi-Stalker or Dog Boy, deserter included

Low level Ley Line Walker or Mystic

Operator if you want the brick to stay standing

Quiet psychic if you can live with Dog Boys smelling you

Street to veteran.

You can be dangerous.

You are not a walking turret.

If you want something loud and overpowered, say so and we work it out.
I need to know before you show up in chrome.

A Glitter Boy makes the bakery job a joke unless we talk first.

Night one

You are in the building or you arrive with a bag.

The sign is on.

There is already at least one body in a bunk.

Ticket on the board:
Bakery oven on Binder Street will not go cold. Blue light under the door after midnight. Bread comes out veined. Owner pays in credits and free meals if you make it stop before ISS follows the glow.

That is the first movie. Questions in the street. Look at the oven. Do not start a war in the alley.

Forum rules
Play by post. I call the rolls. Use the built in dice.

Write what your person does and says. Do not solo the scene.

Combat is one action unless I say you get more.

If you vanish a week with no word you are on cistern duty.

How to sign up

Concept from the list or a pitch.
Two sentences of personality.

Have you actually played Rifts or Palladium.

Do not send me a novel in the thread. If you have a long backstory throw it at me in a message.

Firehouse is open.

Bring a gun, a tool, or a bad idea. The oven is already humming.

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

FIREHOUSE NO. 4

Congratulations! @MAGONIA , @Suigin Trismegistus , and @Amor Fati

You have an address now.

Don't get excited. So does the dump.

It's late afternoon in the Chi-Town Burbs and somebody is burning something they absolutely should not be burning. The smoke is green. A man down the street is insisting that means it's working.

Behind the rooftops sits Chi-Town. Big black fortress. Lights. Electricity. People who can flush a toilet without making a decision about it first. Must be nice.
Out here a guy wants five credits to let you cross a plank over an open sewer. He doesn't own the plank. He's just the largest person currently near it.

Welcome to the neighborhood.
Firehouse No. 4 sits between a boarded up shop and an apartment building with another apartment building built on top of it. There are people up there. Somebody has put a couch on the roof. Getting it up there probably involved more cooperation than the local government has managed in thirty years.

The firehouse is old brick, two stories, and still standing. Have some respect for that. Plenty of buildings around here have given up.

Above the garage is a sign.

FIREHOUSE NO. 4 RIFT, PEST AND PROBLEM REMOVAL

Underneath, in smaller letters:

SLIDING SCALE. NO COALITION QUESTIONS ASKED.

Somebody has added WE DO NOT WORK FOR FREE.

Somebody else has crossed that out and written ASK INSIDE.

Management appears divided.
The bay door is open about three quarters of the way. There's a pipe propping it up. Do not borrow that pipe. That pipe has a job.

Inside is a truck with mismatched tires and a hood held shut by a strap. One door is a different color. The passenger window has been replaced with something that was once part of a shower.

There are tools on the workbench. Actual tools. That's promising. There's also a coffee tin full of screws with TEETH written on it.

Check before reaching in.

Against the wall are old lockers, a battered table, and several chairs gathered from what must have been separate crimes. One has wheels. One has three legs and a brick. The nicest one has a note taped to it.
DON'T.

No explanation. Your call.

The kitchen is through the little door at
the back. Two burners work. The tap makes a noise like a man being woken up for an argument. There's food in the cupboard if your definition of food includes checking it first.

A pot sits on the stove. Whatever is in it has gone cold. A spoon stands upright in the middle.

Upstairs are bunks, blankets, and enough privacy to lie to yourself about having privacy. The bathroom door closes if you lift it. Somebody has thoughtfully left a bucket beneath the leak.

There is another bucket inside that bucket.

You'll work it out.

Out back is a cistern. Every so often something knocks against the inside.
Could be a loose fitting.

The building has plenty of those.
By the garage entrance hangs the job board. Some tickets are old enough that the customers have probably solved the problem, moved away, or become part of it.

MISSING CAT.

MISSING SECOND CAT.

PLEASE STOP TAKING THESE DOWN I AM STILL MISSING TWO CATS.

One notice offers payment for removing something from a crawlspace. Under DESCRIPTION the customer has written NO.

Another says POSSIBLE VAMPIRE. Someone has penciled beneath it:
works nights you stupid bitch.
The newest ticket is pinned right in the middle.

BAKERY. OVEN PROBLEM. ASK INSIDE BEFORE OPENING IT. PAYMENT AVAILABLE.
The words PAYMENT AVAILABLE have been underlined hard enough to tear the paper.

Outside, a cart rattles past. Two neighbors are arguing about a stolen extension cord. Somewhere farther off, an engine gets loud and the argument gets quiet.

People here know when to lower their voices.

The Coalition comes through when it wants something. Papers. Names. Somebody to take away. If the skull helmets turn onto your street, you probably want a better explanation than whatever you were about to say.
For now, they aren't here.

For now, there's a roof, a place to sleep, and somebody offering money because their oven has become more than they can personally deal with.
That's a start.

Whatever brought you here, the door is open.

Come in. Or show us where you've already made yourself comfortable.
What do the others see? What are you wearing? What are you doing?
You don't owe the room your life story. You might owe it a chair if you break one.

Somebody answer the fucking sign.

Into yourself or ask me to do so.

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

An envelope sits on the desk.

 

[MAGONIA]

I dont mind you generating my intro scene with someone else if thats what others want to do. I will make it myself if its just me

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

I dont mind you generating my intro scene with someone else if thats what others want to do. I will make it myself if its just me

Go for it @MAGONIA . You're the first to reply, so if you want Elwin to find the place first, it's yours. Or start already inside like we talked about.

The old crew is gone. Building is sitting there waiting for somebody to make it their problem. Walk in, look around, claim a bunk, inspect the questionable furniture. Write as much or as little as you feel like. The others can come in around you.

There's an envelope on the desk. Open it, ignore it, whatever Elwin would do.

If you'd rather I write your entrance, happy to. Otherwise take it away.

 

[MAGONIA]

Go for it @MAGONIA . You're the first to reply, so if you want Elwin to find the place first, it's yours. Or start already inside like we talked about.

The old crew is gone. Building is sitting there waiting for somebody to make it their problem. Walk in, look around, claim a bunk, inspect the questionable furniture. Write as much or as little as you feel like. The others can come in around you.

There's an envelope on the desk. Open it, ignore it, whatever Elwin would do.

If you'd rather I write your entrance, happy to. Otherwise take it away.

are you saying we are literally assembling in the game right now like we just met?

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

are you saying we are literally assembling in the game right now like we just met?

Yeah exactly.

This is you guys meeting and becoming the crew. The building and sign were here before you. You haven't worked together yet.

I probably made it sound like the business was already yours in the opener. We're playing how that happens. Elwin can already be inside getting comfortable when the others arrive. Being first just means you get to pick the least fucked bunk or top dog.

 

[MAGONIA]

Ok i walk in because im tired of being rained on. the place looks abandoned? yes? i take and read the letter

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

Ok i walk in because im tired of being rained on. the place looks abandoned? yes? i take and read the letter

Nobody answers when you come in. No footsteps upstairs. The lockers hang open and dust has settled around the tools. Looks like the last crew left without bothering to close up.

The roof keeps most of the rain off. Already an improvement.

The envelope has WHOEVER IS WORKING HERE NOW written across the front.

Inside is a credit chip marked 150 and a folded note.

“I knocked. Nobody answered.

150 now. Another 600 when the oven stays cold. Meals for the crew for a week.

Binder Street bakery. Two streets over. Come round the back.

I shut off the fuel yesterday. It's getting hotter. Blue light after midnight and veins in the bread.

My brother says we can still sell it if we cut those bits out.

Please get here before he does.

Don't bring the authorities.”

There’s flour caught in the fold of the paper.

Outside, rain drums against the truck’s hood. The bay door is still open. Nobody has asked who you are or stopped you handling the mail.

Apparently that's the hiring process.

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

@MAGONIA What would you like to find out?

This building has power and is furnished but not a soul inside.

 

[MAGONIA]

@MAGONIA What would you like to find out?

This building has power and is furnished but not a soul inside.

You have followup questions in dms

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

You have followup questions in dms

Replied in the DM. If there’s a particular part I missed, point me at it please :3

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

Outside, somebody is arguing under the awning across the street.

“You ate half.”

“Before I saw it.”

A woman in a patched raincoat holds a loaf out toward a man unloading a handcart. She's pulled it apart. Thin purple strands run through the middle.

“It's rye,” he says.

“I know what fucking rye is.”

She tugs one of the strands. It stretches between the halves. Both of them look at it.

The man puts his half down.

From an upstairs window somebody shouts, “BINDER STREET AGAIN?”

Three windows close. A fourth opens.

“Are they giving it away?”

The handcart is still half full. The woman spots the open firehouse and the light inside.

“Oh. Somebody's back.”

She hasn't come over yet.

 

[MAGONIA]

i come to meet them. i try to sound just as curious as they are even about the bread

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

The woman in the patched raincoat holds the broken loaf toward Elwin.

Ever seen anything like this?

The delivery man reaches to take it back. She pulls it away.

I still paid for it.


She looks back at Elwin, waiting.

 

[MAGONIA]

I tell them that breads more useful for extortion. Just by coincidence this station has been called to solve this problem at the bakery. Come with me i will buy you something to eat anywhere else. We goto the bakery get your money and i can see what kind of problem we are dealing with

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

I tell them that breads more useful for extortion. Just by coincidence this station has been called to solve this problem at the bakery. Come with me i will buy you something to eat anywhere else. We goto the bakery get your money and i can see what kind of problem we are dealing with

“Refund,” the woman tells Elwin. “If anybody asks, we're calling it a refund.”

She wraps the loaf and joins him. The delivery man stays with his cart.

“Tell them I've got eleven more.”

At the corner, a stall sells cups of hot beans for three credits each. The woman stops to look, then looks toward Elwin.

“Those alright?”

Beyond the stall, Binder Street bakery has its front door propped open. Heat rolls out into the rain. A woman with a black bob and a flour-stained apron is hauling a tray away from the counter.

From somewhere behind her, a man shouts, “You can't throw out the whole fucking batch.”

She sets the tray down.

“Then you eat one.”

 

[MAGONIA]

Ok let's get these beans.

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

Ok let's get these beans.

Three credits gets the woman a hot cup and a spoon. She tucks the wrapped loaf under her arm and takes a mouthful before saying anything.

“Thank you.”

At the bakery, the woman in the flour-stained apron notices Elwin and her returning customer. Her eyes settle on the loaf.

“Yours too?”

“Yeah,” the woman says between spoonfuls. “Brought it back.”

The baker sets her tray aside and looks at Elwin.

“You from the firehouse?”

 

[MAGONIA]

Three credits gets the woman a hot cup and a spoon. She tucks the wrapped loaf under her arm and takes a mouthful before saying anything.

“Thank you.”

At the bakery, the woman in the flour-stained apron notices Elwin and her returning customer. Her eyes settle on the loaf.

“Yours too?”

“Yeah,” the woman says between spoonfuls. “Brought it back.”

The baker sets her tray aside and looks at Elwin.

“You from the firehouse?”

Yes and yes and these two need their refund on 11 loves and we can talk buisness.

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

Yes and yes and these two need their refund on 11 loves and we can talk buisness.

The baker opens the till and returns the raincoat woman's money.

“Tell the delivery man to bring his eleven back. I'll refund those too. Nothing else from that batch gets sold.”

Her brother appears in the doorway behind the counter.

“With what money?”

The baker shuts the till.

“The money we took for the fucking bread.”

She turns back to Elwin, lowering her voice.

“I left the note. Fuel's disconnected, but the oven's still getting hotter. I need to know whether you can stop it before it takes the shop.”

She gestures toward the back room.

“You want to look?”

 

[MAGONIA]

It's time.

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

The baker steps aside, giving Elwin a clear view into the bake room.

An iron oven fills the far wall. Its fuel hose lies disconnected on the tiles. The temperature gauge is pressed against its limit.

The oven door is shut. Around its lower hinge, purple threads poke through the mortar.

“I scraped those off this morning,” the baker tells Elwin.

A baking tray sits on the workbench nearby. More threads cling to its underside, trailing toward the oven.

The baker stays beside the doorway.

“What do you need me to tell you?”

 

[MAGONIA]

I walk in and improvise like a professional

 

[Arnold Schwarzwald]

I walk in and improvise like a professional

Professional face is on. What's Elwin actually trying first? Looking over the oven, questioning the baker, using a psychic power? Tell me what he's attempting and I'll handle what happens.