The game opens as it always does.

DM: Before you can go on your mission, you must inquire from someone: How do you get to Sesame Street?
Salvo: “I can’t tell them that.”
Convoy: I, uh…. I check my GPS maps for Sesame Street.
DM: Did it help you?
Convoy: I attempt to get a sensor lock on Sesame Street. (a pause) “Can you tell me how to get to ‘Ses Same Street’?” (a pause) Can anyone tell me where that was from? “Follow That Bird.”
Salvo: Huh.
DM: Oh… this is… something else entirely… where the fuck are my notes?
Convoy: Oh, this ought to be interesting.
DM: The only thing I ever keep track of is the NPC names. Otherwise I gotta make up new ones. Since we like to actually have NPCs that come back.
Indigo: Kurt Burton.
Convoy: Golbez.
DM: Well if I can’t reach into Final Fantasy – all right, Convoy, you are confronted by “Stanner-scream”.
Salvo: As opposed to the priestess chick, who I don’t think we ever found out the name of.
DM: Because I LOST IT! In the beginning!

The transcriber and one of the group members briefly exchange words about the transcriber’s speed of updates, which I trust you have NO FURTHER COMPLAINTS ON, god, as well as the level of bitterness in the transcription narrative, which… eh, continues to increase, I won’t lie.

Convoy: Zero, find us Sesame Street.
DM: You have to find someone who can tell you.
Convoy: Oh shit, it’s Elmo. I floor it. Over him.
Indigo: (second-most-irritating voice imaginable) “Wait, mister, I wanna tell you how to get to Sesame Street!”
Convoy: Thump-thump!
Zero: He’s never on the street, he’s always off somewhere.
DM: Off on some wild, crack-filled adventure.
Zero: Yeah, Elmo’s never on the street.
Indigo: “That’s ‘cuz Elmo doesn’t know how to cross the street!”
Convoy: Hey, I think I just figured out why I hate Cissy.
Indigo: “Bitches!” And Convoy’s just like, ‘shut up, Indigo.’

Zero and the DM briefly but furiously squabble over how much culpability Sargassas has for the actions of this sentient vines.

DM: This particular prison is run by NAN.
Zero: Welcome to the prison-break episode of the Shadowrun campaign.
DM: Which I have to go grab the name of – pass me that book, because I have to tell you the name of – there’s multiple tribes in the NAN, I had this written down, but…
Convoy: Glasswalkers, well, fuck.
DM: It’s a tribe led by the distant ancestor of Hitler. The Jew-Stompers.
Convoy: Yeah, because that’s what I think when I think Native American Nations. The distant ancestors of Hitler called the Jew-Stompers. Right there with the Iroquois and the Cherokee.
DM: They evolved to become…
Convoy: IROQOIS evolved into – CANCEL! CANCEL! Damn!
DM: (evolution music)
Salvo: (who has been on the internet all this time) There’s like five Sesame Streets in Florida!

Finally getting down to the business of shadowrunning, the group turns to assess their current information. They have external plans, but not internal ones or blueprints. Convoy puts out a word to his mercenary contact for information.

DM: He knows a lot. ‘Cuz he’s inside! I’m just playing…
Convoy: As a prisoner, or as a guard?!
DM: He’s both.
Indigo: How does THAT work?
Convoy: He’s both a prisoner AND a guard. I’m not sure this is the best idea. I’m also going to contact my fixer friend and ask if there’s any word about jobs related to this.
DM: He found out that a good friend of yours has been hired by them!
Convoy: I hope he put as much effort into his drone security there as he did at Aztechnology.
DM: That’s too short a time for him to recover after his last position failed. What sucks is that that sheet had all the people who you guys let live that were going to come back as a team to destroy you!
Salvo: Why does this always happen to us?
Convoy: So what you’re saying is, never let anyone live. Good thing that first team never found out who we were, because I’m sure they had some decker or rigger who would’ve sworn eternal vengeance on us. But all they saw when they burst out of that elevator was three heavy machine gun bullets to the face per person.
DM: The guy came out and Salvo’s like, ”Hunting rifle shot. Boom!” Anyway, it’s the Sioux.
Zero: I’m gonna call my Mafioso contact and see if he knows anybody on the inside.
DM: …Mafioso?
Zero: He’s a Mafia guy.
DM: Oh. I thought he was, like, a Mafia guy who also did plays or something.
Zero: Yes, he’s a Mafia guy with operatic tendencies.
Salvo: Tendencies. He’s not actually part of an opera, he just breaks into song.

Naturally the players start singing opera. Badly, of course. The transcriber, no less responsible for this than anyone, curses past-transcriber for his folly. Once again, all toasters toast toast – in this vein, somehow related to Zero’s decking equipment.

Zero: That’s my Masking program, it’s just YouTube Poop channels.

Gender stereotypes are discussed for reasons I can’t even figure out. (As usual.) For some reason, it comes around to trap questions.

DM: Do you get asked the trap question a lot? “Does this dress make me look fat?”
Convoy: No no, the real trap question there is, “Do I look fatter in THIS dress, or THIS dress?”
DM: OH NO! There’s no right answer to that! You’re fucked all the way!
Salvo: No, that’s when you grab your ass and go, “Ooh! Diarrhea!”

And thus was the perfect answer for any trap question devised, while people look at the transcriber as if he’s insane for cracking up on the Metro. Fortunately, Zero gets distracted by Matrix terms.

Zero: It inflicts Stun damage to a decker’s meatbody. I assume that means the decker’s actual body.
Convoy: Yes.
Zero: THEN WHY DID THEY CALL IT MEATBODY?!
Convoy: ‘Cuz it’s the meat.
Salvo: Why not ‘physical body’?
Zero: His meat. It’s one word, that’s why I’m asking!
Salvo: It’d be better if it had a TM after it. “Someone trademarked that!”
Zero: Oh man, I stubbed the toe in my meatbody!

The group briefly discusses the meme, at the time, comparing pop-cultural heroines to sci-fi heroines, and conclude that Twilight sucks.

DM: They’re going to meet up with you at a local pub in a few hours. Both of them.
Convoy: If they start making out while I’m there, I’m out.
DM: There goes THAT awesome idea.
Convoy: You can still have it, I’m just out.

Convoy hits on the idea of cyberware bondage cutters. He heads to the bar, putting on his fake accent to make people think he’s a dumb dwarf.

DM: “What did you want to talk about? It’s been a while. A long while! I heard about that mission you pulled… I assumed it was you.”
Convoy: “Oh, I don’t k now anything about any mission, but just between the two of us, have ya heard about that clever team of shadowrunners who managed ta knock over Aztechnology?”
DM: “I heard about a team who got themselves knocked out pretty quick, but then supposedly there was ANOTHER shadowrunner team. Shadowryouuuur team. Shadowrmmmmmmm team. Who was more shadowy than the other team.”
Zero: It’s a game of shadows, then. Are you sure you want to play this game, DM?
Convoy: The only way to win is not to play. Just like the Game of Thrones.
Zero: Yeah…
DM: “Whoever that is has himself a fine team.”
Convoy: “Speaking of fine teams, you heard any rumors about that prison over in the NAN?”
DM: “Whoa-ho-ho! (awkward laughter) Oh, that place. Yeah. Hate to be in there.”
Convoy: “There’s a group trying to hire me for a run over there. Of course I said no, but, that makes me curious…”

The contact goes on at length about the impenetrability of the system. Prisoners are jammed with as much cyberware as their body can hold, all of it rigged to detonate when it leaves. An uncomfortable level of emphasis is placed on how stupid any shadowrunner would be to hit the place.

DM: “Surprisingly enough, getting into the prison’s pretty easy. But they don’t expect anyone to leave, because getting someone out who’s in there is near-impossible, and why else would you go in there? They don’t keep any military secrets in there, just prototypes for stuff, and once again the prototypes are all rigged. So to get in there you would need someone on the inside who knew the cyberware, or brought in someone who did.”
Convoy: “Ugh. I don’t envy the poor bastards who decided to go up against it.”
DM: “I tell you, man, for a second there I thought you were going, I was like, ‘man, I wish you the best’. But you’re not, so!” (to Salvo)…what’s wrong?
Salvo: I just feel like the light changed all of a sudden.
DM: Oh, your monitor just cut off.
Salvo: Oh, okay.
Convoy: You’re just having a stroke.
Salvo: Okay. Load off my mind!
Convoy: Literally.
DM: After about an hour talking your other buddy arrives. “Hey fellas! Just like old times! Whatcha all doing here?’
Convoy: “Oh, talking. I got a little offer the other day, some people trying to hire me for a prison run, we were having a laugh about that.”
DM: “A prison run? Oh man, you hitting that small prison up north?”
Convoy: “I decided not to go, but no, it’s the big one over in the NAN.”
DM: (spitttake) “What?!”
Convoy: “YOU WEREN’T EVEN DRINKING ANYTHING!”
DM: “I was just spitting on the guy!”

The fixes also waxes eloquent on how bad the prison is and how he’d never do a run on it. He waxes eloquent about how easy it is to get in, but impossible to get out. He also goes on about the truck and the technology involved, as Convoy salivates.

DM: “Oh man, I still can’t believe you’re driving that raggedy van around.”
Convoy: “Are you kidding? That fucker cost me… I mean, aye.”

The group briefly dissolves into mocking the DM from the previous session for the perception of just killing them without even rolling to hit. Dragons have apparently given the group a mild case of PTSD. Zero makes the mistake of going to a kitchen and finds himself returning with a soda for everyone.

Convoy: “Hey guys.” I relate what I’ve been told. In excruciating detail.
Indigo: “Well crap.”

Their paperwork does give them hope. An inside contact can help them take out the cyberware sabotage, and they have some signal-spoofing tech that can buy them some time and distance. The DM curses, because he can’t steal names from Halo. Convoy determines that he can operate his drones up to 30km away.

Salvo: So you’re not going in with us.
Convoy: No, I should be able to park outside, a reasonable distance away—
Salvo: And pray for your lost brother when he dies.
Convoy: “Fuck, my drone! …oh yeah, my brother also.”
Salvo: “But man, my drone!”
DM: Salvo’s just like, getting shot at, the drone’s right there, the drone flies behind Salvo for cover. “Don’t worry, brother, my drone got away!”
Convoy: “Thank you for your sacrifice! It was all I ever hoped for from our relationship!”
Salvo: If that happens I want Convoy to get a Haunted flaw. I’m haunting his ass…

Convoy and the DM have a brief throwdown of homophobe chicken. I think. All I know is that the DM lost whatever challenge they were engaged in.

Zero: Did Golbez have anything to tell me? He’s my level one contact.
DM: (slow-clapping) He walks by, just clapping.
Convoy: “NO! YOU FOOL!” “Automatic slow-clap detectors engaged.”
Zero: As I walk by, and as we get out of range of Golbez’s slow-clapping, allow me to put together my sniper rifle. “You’re fired, Golbez!” Feebly magic-missiling our opponents…
Convoy: But if he’s off-camera he can kill an army.
DM: Don’t worry, the next time you guys play a game like that, I’ll give you powerful NPCs to absorb away all your experience. “You guys only did this much damage, he did all of it, so he gets 10,000 experience, you get 2.”
Zero: I’m just saying, if you have Superman as an ally, why not say, “Hey Superman, you could do something useful.” “No.”
DM: “How would you guys learn to do anything if I did all the work for you?”
Zero: “We wouldn’t have to learn anything if YOU were doing YOUR job, Superman! Not even death can keep you away…”
Salvo: Riddle me THIS, Superman…

Zero meets his Mafia contact in Seattle’s finest Italian restaurant, Taco Bell.

DM: Actually, this is the Mafia that hides in plain sight. “Mafia Restaurant.” All their pasta names are named after famous Mafia people. And shooting events.

Convoy has black licorice, and this angers EVERYONE, but particularly the DM. Convoy threatens to get a ‘Brony’ t-shirt to cause the DM pain in retaliation.

DM: Entering your contact’s Italian establishment, you’re pleased to see the establishment had very much a late 20th-century feel.
Zero: I AM an expert on late 20th-century things…

The outrageously-accented contact greets Zero in a hilariously over-the-top fashion.

DM: “You owe me 20 neato-bucks, whatever they call it nowadays!”
Salvo: You mean ‘nuyen’?
DM: “Nuyen, neato, the money! You owe me the money. Get this man some pasta! Try my new pizza pasta, it’s pizza with pasta on the pie!”
Zero: (overtly alarmed) “Later.”
DM: “Okay, we just getcha some meatball pasta! The old standby, 200 years old, I say.”

A pause.

DM: He’s only a level 1 contact!
Zero: He’s level 2!
DM: He’s level 2? Okay, I’ll make him a little better,
Zero: And he’s not actually Italian, he’s just in the Mafia. But I love the accent, keep it going,
Salvo: He’s like Convoy and I, just puts it on for a show.
DM: “Hey, whaddya doin’ here?”
Zero: “I was supposed to ask you… something…”

Zero does eventually remember. (It takes a bit.) All toasters toast toast. The contact tells Zero in hilariously-accented detail about one of his boys getting trapped in here, consistent with earlier stories of getting in being easy, getting out not so much.

DM: “See that small drawer? What was left of him would fit in that drawer.”
Zero: “So that was the bad things that happened.”
DM: “Yeah. First, we think it was his liver that blew up. Then his bladders.”
Salvo: Bladders?
DM: “Yeah, both of ‘em. He became a little pile of mush by the time we got to him.”
Zero: “So we’re not talking about an arrow to the knee or anything.”
DM: “No, no. No. Not talking about no arrow to the knee. But I used to be a shadowrunner like you…”

The contact hints that metal interference is an ideal way to block the signal. The contact warns Zero that he has too many toasters. Zero eats the Rating 20 pasta.

Zero: “This is the best meal I had since I became homeless. Did I mention that to ya, I’m homeless?”

His contact happily cleans out the toaster room to either let Zero crash there, or build him a house out of toasters. The glory of friends!

Convoy: That’s right, take favors from the Mafia.
DM: “I’m telling you, man, it’ll be great! You have three meals a day, pasta, pasta, pasta!”
Zero: What’re they gonna do, ask me to kill someone?
Convoy: This is why they call it the meatbody, because there’ll be nothing but meat out to HERE after all that starch.

Zero desperately tries to parley his Mafia friend’s offer of a room into a hotel room, while the DM repeatedly yells about pasta, pasta, pasta! Convoy checks the time.

Convoy: We’re not gonna make it to the adventure because of the NPCs…
Zero: I’m trying to get out of this restaurant, he won’t let me!

The extremely shady box-merchant makes a reappearance due to popular demand. Salvo suggests that clearly the best way to transport the prisoner is to coat Convoy’s van in lead.

Salvo: I want your top speed to be 5 mph.
Convoy: “Welp, out of fuel.”

The group weighs the advantages – too slow to be intercepted by a fast vehicle, and impossible to run off the road – against the cons – the absolute certainty that when the van does run out of gas, it will be on train tracks.

DM: All this would be a lot easier if Convoy had remembered to turn the parking brake off with his mind.
Convoy: I always drive with the parking brake on, it’s like training with weights. How do you THINK I got my Car skill up to 7?
Zero: And a truck tire tied around his waist…

There’s an upside to all this – there’s a Matrix access port to the prison’s not-connected PLTG outside the prisoner proper, so hired programmers don’t have to enter the prison to do their work. Thankful for the laziness of programmers, they ponder how to exploit this.

Convoy: You think there’s any way we can arrange for him to be considered an official tech?

An extremely long pause.

DM: Who are you ASKING?

Pondering their options, the group elects to see if they can jump a programmer and steal his pass, and thus, his access to the system. Convoy proposes sending Indigo in, since she isn’t cybered to the gills.

DM: Salvo’s disguised as a postal worker, all his cybernetics covered up.
Salvo: “Oh hi, I’ve got a –shink!” (miming a spur deploying) -- “damn it! A package for you – shick! – don’t worry about that!”
Convoy: “You left the reflexes on, you fool!”
DM: Whenever he’s not trying to use the cybernetics, they turn into go-go-Gadget parts.

Indigo ponders the best plan of action, concerned that she might be identified. The group would prefer a stealth approach, but this may prove difficult.

Convoy: Just don’t be distinguishable.
Indigo: I look like fucking Nightcrawler without the tail. “Try not to be distinguishable,” yeah, right.

Convoy knocks over a pile of dice, and the DM attempts to claim that as an IC action, in which boxes fell onto him, for no reason.

DM: 27D… box damage. What do you do?
Convoy: Apparently I die.
DM: Salvo, you have inherited all his powers, combine his character sheet with yours.
Salvo: Well that’s kind of weird.
Convoy: Your Essence is now REALLY fucking low.
Salvo: Umm, I am going to sell all his stuff so I can afford the medication to keep me alive through cybermancy.

For some reason, the first programmer on their list of targets is a vampire. The group immediately moves down the list. The next one is a werewolf god. The group quits the adventure. The second programmer is actually an orc, who they have all the information they need on.

Convoy: Excellent, I’ll go program a delivery service into the van.
Salvo: …make it a cookie van.
DM: Foolishly turning the truck into a cookie van, he goes through Mrs. Fields Avenue.
Convoy: Shit.
DM: Where cookies are king! Your trucks is mauled by nerds looking for cookies.
Convoy: (miming sweeping the crowd with his MMG turret)
Salvo: Firing cookie bullets.
Convoy: They’re chocolate chip, so they use the flechette rules.

The group starts planning their quick hit. Indigo will sneak in, Zero will monitor the Matrix for shenanigans, Salvo will be in the van with Convoy just in case.

Convoy: I’ll pop a drone over the area to keep a watch on things.
Salvo: (makes a wavey motion with his hand to mime the drone’s flight, while continually raspberrying in imitation of the drone’s engine)
DM: Damn Turtle-blimp!
Salvo: (continues to do it)
Convoy: (giving Salvo a Look)
Salvo: (innocently) What?
Convoy: I feel like I’m not valued here.
Salvo: Just the blimps are kind of weird, that’s all.
Convoy: Why is it weird?! It makes perfect fucking sense!
Salvo: Hey! I’m just saying… why a blimp, that’s all.
Convoy: Because the Signature is high! That’s why! That’s the reason.
Salvo: (hand-waving and raspberrying)
Convoy: The Signature on these things is 10! Because they just float! You don’t have to hover around or have the engine running! They just do it!
Salvo: (still doing it)
Zero: (about an inch from dying)
Convoy: They float! They float over the land of Ghoere! (pausing to asses the impact of this on Zero) …He looks like he’s gonna crap.
Zero: (choking and coughing) Trying to… avoid… coughing…
Convoy: Well, you’re not doing a very good job of that, are you?
DM: Salvo, you’re gonna have to be the one to call [Zero’s fiancée] and tell her yeah, he died laughing.
Convoy: He died the way he lived: laughing at a Ghoere joke.
Salvo: (still mocking blimps by pantomime)
DM: Christopher Lloyd pops up. “One day you’re gonna DIE laughing!”
Convoy: Aaaaanyway, let’s go jump this programmer and get a run in.
DM: “Oh I hope my day goes okay!”
Salvo: Apparently he’s a lizardman.
DM: You listen to his conversation as he continues to downgrade blimps left and right. “Who the hell uses blimps anyway? Dumbass blimp tool. Stupid stupid blimps. Blimps are retarded, for dumb people.”
Convoy: (slow burn)
Salvo: (mimes launching a rocket) “You know you wanted it done.”
Convoy: “I can’t argue that.”
DM: It’s a pity that they never told Salvo the address. He blew up the wrong person.
Convoy: He just blew up Zero’s new house.
Zero: (the dirtiest look imaginable)
Salvo: “Done and done.”

Zero is mocked for a while more, to his dismay as he recognizes a running gag developing. The DM vows to strip him of his house once per session.

Convoy: All it takes is ONE funny thing for a good character to become a running gag.
Salvo: Exactly. That’s the new running gag of this one. The NEW running gag. The toaster thing needs to die.
DM: Yes it does. Please, god. Even I admit I took it too far.

The session derails for a while, particularly in reminiscing about a player who used to pronounce ‘decker’ with more of a soft ‘I’ sound. Zero drops into the Matrix, only to find a wrestling-themed sculpted system.

DM: Your blimp watches as he goes through his daily routine.
Salvo: (blimp mockery)
DM: Yes, it’s farting time.
Salvo: I like your blimp. I really do. I just like doing the hand motion.

Convoy threatens to kill Salvo, leading to a debate over whether the mockery was out of character… and the threat. Indigo hides in the foliage outside the decker’s house. Indigo leaps out to punch the decker with Killing Hands, despite not wanting to kill him.

DM: I TOLD YOU TO CUT ME A PIECE OF CHEESE!
Convoy: I didn’t know you wanted a piece of cheese, I thought you were just yelling at me for no reason.
DM: NO, I WANTED A PIECE OF CHEESE!
Convoy: Okay! (feebly lobbing cheese at the DM)
DM: What a horrible throw—
Convoy: (seamlessly) --to have a curse.
Zero: Hey, it won’t possibly taste worse than all the dice you’ve had in your mouth.

Indigo nails him with 4S Stun that he fails to reduce, then beats him handily in initiative order and pops him again. He drops down to incapacitated, and Indigo cheerfully drags him into the van.

Salvo: We’re keeping him in the van?
Convoy: Next time we say ‘tie him up in his closet’ we need to be more clear that his closet is not my van.
Indigo: (pointing at Salvo) Hey, he’s supposed to be backing me up!
Convoy: Welp, only one thing to do. Douse him with alcohol and toss him in a dumpster.

They find the decker’s ID and 20 nuyen on him, and briefly argue over whether they should steal it off him. A passerby notices them, and they cheerfully imply the decker was out boozing all night.

Convoy: Sniper rifle! No witnesses!
Zero: Really? I’ll take any excuse to use it…
Convoy: Missile launcher! Use it! No witnesses!
Salvo: “But bro… WE’RE witnesses!”
Convoy: His dog escapes the explosion somehow, and we’re spending out entire morning tracking down this dog to kill it.
DM: What’re you talking about? Just another member to add to the REVENGENCERS!
Convoy: “The dog… got away…”
DM: “That’s okay. What’s a dog gonna do?”
Salvo: You know, we COULD take his money and make it look like a robbery. Someone beat him up, took his money…
Zero: Or we could just take the time to write a suicide note for him!
Convoy: He’s a programmer, he would’ve programmed it.
Indigo: No, even worse… put on some lipstick, mash all over his face….
Convoy: Ooh, I like that. I say we go with her plan. Let’s at least give him some good memories. This is sort of our apology for good old Carl, way back when.
Indigo: Put on lipstick, smooch all over his face, leave a note with a fake number that says call me.
Convoy: To the rejection hotline.
DM: “Hi, were you rejected by a girl recently? I’m here to make you feel better, pretty boy.”
Convoy: This is the rejection line of the future?!
Salvo: They immediately get connected to the suicide hotline of the future.

Heading to the prison, they stick Zero in the driver’s seat, while Convoy kicks back in the backseat to actually drive.

Convoy: Just look like you’re jacked into the vehicle.
Zero: (making a plugging-in motion)
Convoy: Don’t actually jack in to the -- (pretending his brain is frying)
Zero: Aaaaaagh!
Convoy: There’s just images of us in code, superimposing over each other.
DM: Wacky Friday! Trade character sheets!
Zero: Freaky Friday? “I wish I could trade places with him for just one day…”

After merrily describing this scenario for a moment, the game turns back to the run (again, and probably as futilely as every other time). The DM acts out the guard at the gate waking abruptly as the van pulls up.

DM: “What? Huh? Who goes there? What are you doing here?”
Zero: (pausing, then turning to the others) What was my cover story?
DM: (bursting into laughter) He’s like, “What’s my cover story?!”

Realizing what just happened, the group cracks up.

Convoy: Missile! Missile! Run over him!
DM: All of a sudden the van just picks up and runs over the guy, smashes into him a few more times, and then you kick him out. “Go do your run, goddamnit. Go get some Etiquette.”

Allowing that Zero is more competent than his player, the DM gets them past the gate and to the jackpoint. Zero goes to jack in, as the others set up surveillance and watch.

Zero: Push your blimp out first.
DM: Opens up the window! Shoves it out!
Salvo: (wavey hand and raspberrying)
Convoy: (gets up and heads for the door to the balcony)
DM: It’s not your fault, Convoy, you just have blimps!
Convoy: No, they’re not set up, so I have to step outside to inflate it, first.
DM: “Whatcha doin’ there, buddy?”
Salvo: “Eh, no worries.”
Convoy: “Blow-up doll. This programming’s very lonely.”
DM: “Oh, I know how that is. Me and my buddy here…” He pulls out what’s clearly a guy blow-up doll.
Convoy: “Wanna try my vibrator?” Steel Lynx rolls out.
Zero: Does it also… (wavy hand and raspberrying)
DM: All his a drones have a miniblimp attached to it! A blimp on the top…
Zero: “Steel Lynx, eject!” A little blimp comes up…
DM: While this madness is going on outside, you jack yourself in.
All: (immature laughter)
DM: Not jack yourself off.
Convoy: Well he is putting something into his secret hole! It’s a male-to-female attachment, dude!
DM: In this case he’s the female.
Convoy: Yes, he is. He’s the receiver.
Indigo: God damn it, Convoy!
Convoy: Hey, he has two datajacks, he could fill both his holes.

Silence.

DM: Too far, sir. Too far.
Convoy: Oh yeah, I’VE gone too far here. I’M the guilty one. THAT was where the line needed to be drawn. Double penetration is right out. Single penetration—
Zero: And out comes the blimp!

The transcriber admits that during the transcription, he’ll definitely be wondering what the hell they were on. The food appears to get the group high.

Zero: Right down the Death Star trench! (waving hand and raspberrying) I’m done! I’m done!

It’s too late. The group has collapsed into wheezing, desperate laughter. The DM openly flees the room. Salvo turns bright red. Convoy has collapsed onto the table, which he is pounding.

DM: And Vader’s trying to get it in there. “The Force is strong with this one!” Pbbbbbbbbbb.

Into the Matrix goes the decker! After a little decking and a lot of rules-looking-upping, he finds locations of the people they’re looking for, as well as the blueprints to the facility. For some reason, the DM pops his collar.

Convoy: Well, that increased his impact armor.
Salvo: And his douchebaggery.
Convoy: That couldn’t go any higher.

The group heads through the main gate, for reasons that are unclear. Zero keeps eyeing the rest of the group, having not learned his lesson from the earlier encounter. A guard stops them, but after a little backtalk and a little ID card scanning, he lets them through. Convoy notes that they might have just been let in as part of the “easy in, hard out” security strategy of the group.

Salvo: Well thank you, that makes me paranoid.
Convoy: I’m gonna quickly check my sensors to see if the guard looks smug.
DM: The guard doesn’t look that bright… what did you do, just turn the blimp off?
Convoy: (slaps the table hard to indicate the blimp crashing)
Zero: Like a lead zeppelin.
Salvo: A little hand comes out with a needle. Pop!

They head into the parking lot, noting that the rank-and-file is mostly absent for the weekend, but the warden is in.

Convoy: I park across two spaces, because it’s a big van.
DM: The moment you park: “Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Terrible parking! Terrible parking!”
Salvo: A tow truck comes up.
Convoy: Oh, I’ll pit my van against that tow truck.
Salvo: It’s got five hardpoints!
Convoy: Fortunately, three are used up for the tow arm.
DM: You’re going up against SuperTruck, the truck meant to tow trucks meant to tow other trucks meant to tow a truck. This thing can technically tow 17 trucks.
Salvo: This thing could tow God.
Convoy: If He were to do a bad parking job.
Salvo: “Why am I powerless to stop this? Makes no sense!”
Convoy: Can God create a tow truck so powerful even He can’t prevent himself from being towed?
Salvo: This could be a big firefight.
Convoy: If they’re not going to stop us getting in, no point in us being subtle about it, I suppose.
Salvo: All right, help me on with this gyromount.
Convoy: Tighten, tighten, tighten…
Salvo: Ahh, feels good.
Convoy: Tighten. Tighten.
Salvo: Oh my god.
Convoy: Tighten.
Salvo: OWWW!
Convoy: Tighten! Tighten! “Tight enough?”
Salvo: (tiny voice) “Yeah, we’re good.”
Convoy: “What’s that? Three notches tighter?”
Salvo: “No—argh—ergh—I need a new spleen after this…”
Convoy: “You’ll be able to afford it.”
Salvo: “Cyberspleen, here I come…”
Zero: Cyberspleen!
DM: New enhancements to the cyberspleen!
Salvo: Still does nothing!
DM: Worse than a normal spleen, because it still takes Essence away!

More legitimately, Salvo straps up and readies his weapons for bear.

Zero: Are you just strolling into the prison with a minigun?
Salvo: Yeh.
Zero: Oh, this is going to be awesome.
Convoy: Yeah, we’ve kind of decided on the ‘entering the ground floor of the building where Morpheus is being held’ approach.
DM: For some reason, he doesn’t see the guns, and lets you go through the metal detector anyway…

Zero dives back into the Matrix from a new jackpoint as the combat team (and drones) deploy at the entrance, and gains control of a few levels’ worth of the prison. Salvo and Indigo run through the level to a subjunction with the elevators in it.

Convoy: Maybe you ought to take some of these elevators out of order.
DM: If you want, you can take control of the elevator.
Zero: Would that be more or less effective than just having Salvo punch them?
DM: More effective…
Convoy: Just keep an eye out, and if anyone starts using them that we don’t want to, just send them to, like, Sub-basement X.
Salvo: I am strapped into this thing, it’s hard to do any physical attacks.
Convoy: Give ‘em the Great Glass Elevator treatment.
Salvo: “Up and out!”
Convoy: Bing! “Department of Mysteries.”
DM: You see the elevator stop. “Huh, we weren’t expecting any deliveries to HOOOOLY SHIIIIIIT!”
Convoy: Why are they saying that, the door hasn’t opened yet. “Karl, knock it off, you do that every time the elevator comes to this floor and it’s getting really old.”
DM: “I’m telling you, one of these days this door is gonna open up, there’s gonna be this big guy with all these weapons—“
Salvo: …is this really happening?
DM: You hear it on the other side of the door!
Salvo: Oh, then I’m holding down the trigger. I’m revving these barrels up now, so I don’t have to waste a combat turn.

They burst through the elevator door, to confront a security guard brandishing… a nightstick. Indigo acts first, and wants to hurl one security guard into the other. Discovering the rules don’t cover this, the DM immediately melts down.

DM: He pulls out a picture of his two young kids! Whenever you kill a security guard a picture of his family flies out of his pocket…

Salvo melts the first once into goo, but his target number for the next shot is 16 thanks to an excess of uncompensated recoil, and he can’t hit. Zero notices a pair of security turrets pop up, and ducks into Edit Slave, only to have a LOT of IC pop up to gank him.

Zero: I’ll edit so that that guard and anyone dressed like him are the enemies.
Convoy: Meanwhile, downstairs, “Let’s all dress like them so they don’t realize we’re intruding!”

The security turrets and Convoy’s Steel Lynx take down the other guard, and Zero squelches the triggered alarm as a weapons malfunction. Many inevitable Star Wars references are obligingly made. The group races forward to find one of their targets.

DM: Turning the corner, you see this particular cell. A prisoner, sitting on his bed, watching the clock as if waiting, expecting something to happen.
Convoy: It can’t be us, ‘cuz we weren’t on a schedule.
Zero: “Are you the DARPA chief?”
Convoy: “Where’s the Joker?!”
DM: “Ah, well, finally.” He did hear the alarm, so he knew something was up. “Finally. They’ll be here soon.”
Convoy: That’s not ominous.
Salvo: I’m not the face, she can talk to him.
DM: You guys hear him say this, but he hasn’t seen you yet.
Convoy: Let’s just go right past him.
Salvo: How are we supposed to get this thing open? Shooting the lock off?
Convoy: Isn’t that how we do everything?
Salvo: It’s how I do everything.
Convoy: Doesn‘t anyone have some frickin’ Electronics down there?
Salvo: Assault Rifles, Edged Weapons, Gunnery, Heavy Weapons, Launch Weapons, Demo – ooh, Demolitions, I can blow the shit out of it.
Convoy: Goddamn one-trick pony.
Salvo: Look, we’re supposed to be a well-rounded group, I do what I do and I do it well.

Lacking resources on the ground, they decide to sacrifice Zero to the IC so he can open the door. Three programs of unknown rating pop up to harass him as he opens the door. The DM tries to make Convoy’s drones kill the entire party, no matter how many times Convoy tells them not to.

Convoy: I already said it so you wouldn’t do that shit!
DM: I didn’t hear it! I didn’t hear it! (still furiously rolling dice)

Back to the elevator they go, with many Mass Effect elevator jokes on the way. The DM calls for perception tests, and they spot a well-armed security guard out of the corner of their eyes. Initiative! A guard somehow goes first, firing a burst at Convoy’s Doberman drone.

Salvo: I made over a thousand clones of myself, and I’m launching them all out of my weapon. I’m launching a salvo of Salvos.

The assault rifle’s ammo… flattens off the Doberman’s armor. The DM by this point appears to have completely given up. Convoy attempts to find the Signature of a human body, which thanks to the rules not being quite organized, takes forever and involves a crapton of cursing on his part. He finally gives up and has his Steel Lynx put five bullets into the guy.

DM: So he needs… you said it was thirteen?
Convoy: Fourteen.
DM: So he just needs five 8s.
Convoy: That’s why I fired five. Six was overkill.
DM: Why am I even rolling? He’s already done failed himself.
Convoy: I like ‘failed himself’, the way you said it sounded like ‘shit himself’.

That guard dies, of course, but more guards are piling into the halls as they advanced on the group. Salvo annihilates one with a Vindicator, while Indigo plants a shuriken into a closer one.

Convoy: If they ever manage to go first, we’re in trouble.
DM: Note to self, stack initiative.
Convoy: Move-by-wire systems. Everyone’s going to have move-by-wire 4s. The ones that give cancer.

Guards on other levels charge the elevators, trying to get done! Zero disables the brakes and lets them drop, then is jumped on by IC. The final guard acts…

DM: He throws his gun to the ground… He throws a grenade at your Doberman!
Convoy: At my Doberman?!

The grenade plunks down right on the Doberman. Convoy hurriedly ponders swapping over to it to get it out of the way.

DM: Your drone would not be smart enough to move on its own?
Convoy: No! Or I can try to give it an order, let me see…
DM: “Get away from the grenade.” “What is a grenade?”
Salvo: Syntax error.
Zero: Abort, retry, fail?
Convoy: That’s why you have to give really simple orders to these things.
Salvo: “Windows has encountered a problem.”
Convoy: “Oh god damn it, what was I thinking?!”

Convoy broadcasts an order for all drones to retreat from that position, which the DM attempts to interpret in the least charitable way.

DM: Traveling at top speeds, you watch your drones smashin’ all over the place!
Convoy: If they just hit the walls, they can’t REALLY go fast enough to hurt themselves…
DM: But with a little DM MAGIC…
Convoy: Goddamn DM magic!
Salvo: AKA, DM BS.

But the hour is way, way too late to continue, and reluctantly the group leaves the combat unfinished so that they can go about their real-life business on the next day. Will their run succeed? Will they escape the prison? WHO KNOWS?! NOT ME!