Fun with Personal Weaponry Well, here it is the year 2000, and another century of Clueless screw-ups to look forward to. It's enough to make you want to throw yourself off the back steps... In fact, most of you out there who enjoy the C.L.U.E. files have no comprehension of just how painful it can be to have to review the many submissions that come in from hapless GM's and players. Sometimes I just sit and stare in shock at my screen, shaking my head as another flood of desperate cries for help parade down my list of e-mail. Strangely enough, the majority seem to involve Street Sams... The Troll Sammie janders into Weapons World, looking to buy a pair of shock gloves so he can whale on people. Luckily, he finds a pair in his size, and after briefly considering shoplifting them, changes his mind, pays for them, and leaves. As soon as he is out the door, Sammie yanks the gloves out of the package and slides them on, and the player announces he wants to 'try them out' on the first person to walk by. Well the next person to pass Sammie is an elderly woman... with a walker. The GM asks the player "are you SURE you want to go through with this". Of course, Sammie assured him he did. You know, Trolls are REALLY strong. The poor old grandma was knocked clean off the sidewalk, into traffic, and was creamed by a bus. As the bus ran off with grandma (and as about a kajillion eyewitnesses looked on) the poor old lady's walker, rebounding off the front of the bus soared into the sky, arced through the air, and landed at Sammie's feet in a crumpled mass of metal. After a fit of hysterical laughter, Sammie picked up the walker and carried it home with him like a trophy. Needless to say, a good deal of Lone Star Security came a knock-knock-knockin' at Sammie's door shortly after. Mr. Killing Death Machine and the rest of his runner group were on the run from Lone Star. Pausing at the top of a building, suddenly a Star Attack Helicopter appears practically out of nowhere, and hovering above them, a commanding voice issues from the loudspeakers: GM: "You are under arrest. Lay down your weapons and surrender!" Sam: "I take my MG and shoot it down" GM: "OK. Roll Initiative" Sam: <rolls dice> "45" GM: "What??" SM: "I got <insert new super bioware here>" GM: "ummmmm, the chopper is right above your HEAD!" {Insert screams of protest from other players} Sam: "Cool, I shoot it down" Of course, all the runners had to evade the falling wreckage of a Lone Star helicopter. This resulted in the death of two teammates (one of which was an Level 3 Mage Initiate, who was understandably not very happy at this turn of events). And, true to form, Sam escaped unscathed. Mr. Street Sam was So Happy. Today, in the mail, he received the package he was waiting for. Running up to his luxury apartment, he opens the package reverently, and there they were. Nestled in the packing foam were six rounds of cutting edge Paralyze drug for his narcojet pistol, at 500 nuyen a pop. Just dying to try out his new toy, Mr. Sammy noticed movement on his balcony. Creeping to the balcony doors, he spied a lone pigeon, idly pecking at the concrete edging. So, of course, Mr. Sammy, seeing a great testing opportunity, shoots the pigeon, which is knocked by the close range shot off the balcony wall, falling 20 stories. I wonder what actually killed the pigeon: an extreme overdose of Paralyze narcovenom, the actual shot, or the 20 story fall? Regardless, what a great way to blow off 500 nuyen! Six runners were in a speed boat off the Yucatan Peninsula, spying on a hacienda. They are paralleling the beach, and all they can see of the house is a beach entrance, with a little old lady in a flowered bathrobe waving a stick and looking into the air, like she was talking to someone. Her small white poodle cavorted on the sand, and from time to time the little old lady threw the stick for it. The runners suspect she is a shaman, and an astral check reveals she is talking to a huge (Force 8) spirit. After doing a very obvious drive-by looksee about 100 yards out, just before they get out of sight of the house, Mr. Sammy with the Rem 750 decides to shoot.... the little white dog. Of course, Grandma obligingly Flame Bombs the boat. Twice. So you think that, just maybe, now that it's a new millenium (or close to it), anything's gonna change? If so, you're one helluva lot more optomistic than I, brother. Keep smilin! (after all, it's that or bawl like a baby) Karen - karenmr@shadowrun.html.com