Last time, the group absolutely definitely escaped unharmed and successfully from the Shadowrun adventure they were in the middle of, mainly because the DM lost track of the game. So he cheerfully awards karma and nuyen, which no one can spend because purchasing in the Shadowrun universe is a major downtime activity. They instead waste their time arguing about Darth Vader’s Essence.

Salvo: Oh, that’s right. One of my contacts is a bum named Shitstain. “How’s it going, Shitstain?”
DM: “That’s not my name, how many times I gotta—“
Salvo: “Shut up, Shitstain.”

The players elect to hold onto their karma, which angers the DM, because spending it would have stalled the game longer.

DM: 20 extra karmaaaa!
Salvo: Woohoo!
Convoy: I like how you shouted that like you were awarding points to a Hogwarts house. “Twenty points to Convoydor!” Oh hey, I could slap on some nitrous oxide injectors.
Zero and Salvo: (accelerating car noises)
Convoy: Wait, I put a fuel cell in this thing, no I can’t.
Zero: (sputtering and failing car noises) This bucket of bolts is never gonna get us past that blockade!
Salvo: (failing engine noises)
Convoy: It still works just fine, it just can’t take nitro!

The group entertains themselves with making farting mini-blimp noises. Convoy, being a rigger, is the first to come up with his purchase desires.

DM: It’s been about ten days, you got some purchases with your most recent acquisition and are heading over to your mechanic friend to tell him that at some point soon you’re going to need to borrow his garage. But seems like he’s been expecting you a little sooner… What voice were we using for this guy?
Convoy: He’s angry.
DM: “You know how long it took me to fix up that damage from getting kidnapped?! You know what happened? Huh? Anyways, I got it fixed up. You owe me one. I don’t know how it’s your fault but I’m blaming you for all of this.”
Convoy: “So how much DID it co—“ Oh wait, I have to use my fake dwarf voice, because I fake it. “So how much did it cost ya?”
DM: “Ahh, it wasn’t too bad, to fix up the garage was not too bad, and they didn’t steal anything, thank the Maker. It was more annoying than anything, no good for business, I had to close down the shop for a few days. Anyway, I got something for you and your team, as it were, that it seems you have, that I want you to do for me. There’s a parts delivery coming in in the next few days with some pretty sweet gear that I could use, and I need to acquire it… let’s say, without paying for it.”
Convoy: “Hmm, I see.” Well, guess we’re gonna use our money to go pay for parts!

The terms are made clear: the more parts and the better the condition, the more money they’ll get paid. Convoy heads out, giving his comrades a call.

Zero: “Zero.”
Convoy: “Good news, I’ve got work!”
Zero: “Work for all of us?”
Convoy: “Yes!”
Zero: “That is good news.”
DM: “No! Just for me! Ha ha ha!” (dial tone)
Zero: Yeah, I would expect a call like that.
Convoy: I’ll help you move into a new home.
Zero: Sorry, I’ve sworn off having a home…

To discuss plans, the group assembles at Salvo’s place. The parts are being carried on an armored semi, which runs routine routes between various stops on a route. Their supplied information tells them what stop the parts will be loaded on and where the truck goes.

Convoy: “The way I see it, there are two major factors in this. The first is the truck, the second is the drop-off point.”
Zero: Are you in character?
Convoy: Yes.
Zero: No you’re not. He was Scottish ten minutes ago!
Convoy: He pretends to be Scottish so people think he’s an idiot dwarf!

The DM reviews the security – several guards which ride in the truck, which vary based on the hostility of the route but not the value of the cargo.

Salvo: So what I’m hearing is, bring the rocket launcher…

Their plans take a twist when they discover they only have a day or two to plan their strike. Convoy heads off to investigate the truck, believing that the smoothest operation would be to simply replace the crew, have the gear loaded on, then drive off without violence.

DM: He’s in the front pretending to be the driver. “Put the stuff on… don’t look in the truck!”
Convoy: No, not in MY truck!
DM: No, you driving the truck around and just going to the stop to get the stuff. “Put it on! Don’t look at the driver!”
Convoy: Well one of the things I want to observe is if the staff rotation changes at all. If they have the same complement of people every time it won’t do us much good to jump them before it stops and pretend we’re the new guys. That won’t be so awesome.
Zero: “The regular guy’s sick.”
DM: “The whole team?”
Zero: “It was… um…”
Convoy: “Whooping cough.”
Zero: “Novovirus. Polio.”
DM: “That damn polio!”
Convoy: “They all shared a hooker. Never should’ve shared a hooker.”
DM: “THEY KNOW THE RULES!”
Salvo: “They called it ‘chain-gonorrhea’.”
Zero: Vile chain gonorrhea.
DM: There’s a big rules sheet, the top rule is “never share the hooker.” Apparently it’s a common problem.
Zero: There was a group-rate discount, they couldn’t resist.
Salvo: Neither could their immune systems.

Convoy gets a good analysis going, while Zero’s Matrix investigations reveal that though the teams on the truck change, the driver is expected to give rotating location-based passwords. He heads deeper into NovaTech’s Matrix presence in the hopes of getting more info.

DM: This particular area of cyberspace, the general public area, kinda reminds you of an old Star Trek episode.
Zero: What color is my shirt?
Convoy: The color of your shirt depends on how well you’ve spoofed the system, dude.
Zero: “Red! Nooooo! Get me out!”
Convoy: If it turns red, that’s when you know: abort run. Abort run!
DM: You remain undetected as you go. This is more of a standard affair for most corporation when it comes to the Matrix. It reminds you of an office space. Not a lot of creativity here. Sneaking your way through –
Zero: Sleaze!
Convoy: What program are you using to help you sneak your way through?
Zero: SLEAZE! (singing) One two three four, five successes!
Convoy: You don’t even know what the difficulty is!
Zero: Oh. You’re right.

Zero plunders the personnel database and forwards it on to Convoy. The DM dons a pie box as a hat. It’s as weird as it sounds. They finally get to Indigo’s stealth-survey of the depot where the loading will be occurring.

Indigo: I can drive out there on my motorcycle, it’s just trying to do some reconnaissance and have them be all, “Hey, that’s not a motorcycle that’s supposed to be there,” and that shit.
Convoy: Yeah, we’re supposed to be stealthy, and not identify-y…-y.
Indigo: Yes, I’m trying to be stealthy, but…

Heading out there, Indigo carefully creeps up to the facility on foot. She gets a real good view of the sight… which isn’t interesting, honestly, because it never ends up being relevant… except when Convoy inquires about the terrain.

DM: Fairly flat, wasteland, sort of desert terrain. There’s not a lot of trees and so forth.
Convoy: Damn those Washington State deserts!
DM: Um, I don’t know, is the terrain hilly in Washington? I thought it was flatlands, like the rest of the fucking territory.
Convoy: (on the edge of a total meltdown) And deserts. Big deserts. Sagaro cactuses sticking up everywhere. Fuck you, Fifth World, you’ve ruined everything…
DM: All right, then, well, the terrain suddenly warps around you, it’s not a hilly grassland. Bright green, making it very difficult for stealth. In fact, they’ve spotted you.
Convoy: Yeah, because she stood out so much worse against the desert. All she had to do was this -- (holding his arms out, bent at the elbow) -- and they thought she’s a Sagaro…
DM: WHAT THE FUCK IS A SAGARO!?
Convoy: It’s the cactuses that do like this, dude.
DM: Fuck you, the hat’s going back on! (jamming the pie box back on his head)
Convoy: So we’ve got the deserts of Seattle to contend with.
DM: They’re flatlands. Grasslands. That’s all it is. Not deserts. Flatlands.
Convoy: Bring back a prickly pear! (collapsing into a pile of feeble laughter)
Zero: He broke himself.

Without more time to plan, they elect to intercept and board the truck after it has picked up the goods. They start making plans to do just that.

Salvo: I got some anti-vehicle rockets…
Convoy: We—no, stop that.
Salvo: 16D!
Convoy: We’re not trying to destroy it!
DM: Mission failure! All contents obliterated!
Zero: Putting my rifle together…
Convoy: WE’VE GOT A DAY!
DM: So what kind of poop preparation in your truck do you have, when your character needs to go poop? Do you just walk outside—
Convoy: I don’t live in my van, you asshole!
DM: I thought you were driving out, you were gonna stay out there for seven, ten… fifteen hours. You gotta go poop at some point. You gonna hold it in for fifteen hours? Should I start rolling for internal damages?

Convoy laboriously attempts to dissuade Salvo from destroying the truck. Salvo, in turn, cheerfully comes up with plan after plan to destroy the cargo.

DM: I’m gonna make him install a toilet in the truck. That’s my goal.
Salvo: “Ah, sure glad you installed that chemical toilet.” “What?” “Over there in the toilet.” “MY STEEL LYNX!”

Convoy proposes that Salvo and Indigo vault from his truck to the enemy one, then pull the connections between truck and trailer so it has to stop.

DM: Apparently, Convoy’s the only one with ideas.
Convoy: Yep. Same as always.
DM: Salvo’s like, “Know what? I don’t like his plan. I’ll go with my own plan.” He decides to go with his own plan and doesn’t talk to anybody about it.
Salvo: You look in the rearview mirror, you see me with the rocket launcher strapped to my back. “Dat dah dat dah…”
Convoy: “Why are you taking that?”
Salvo: “Dat dah dat dah!” Slam!

With their plan settled, and preparations made, the moment has come.

Convoy: I start driving. (firing up “The Touch” on his phone) Now jump you fools!
DM: (laughs so hard he chokes) Give me a roll!
Convoy: What am I rolling for?!
DM: Not you, whoever’s jumping off your fucking truck! He’s planned it out pretty perfectly. It’s coming on the highway just as you’re coming up, lining up perfectly. But the question is, will they make the jump?
Convoy: It would be an Athletics roll.
Indigo and Salvo: I don’t have Athletics.

Both the two of them default to their Body attribute, which increases their target numbers by four. Convoy sadly ends his music and replaces it with the Price is Right losing horns. The two of them do make the leap however, and Convoy accelerates to complete the pass.

DM: All right. You see some flashing lights!
Convoy: …you took the missile launcher up there, right?

Sticking to the plan, the pair of them yank connections. Obligingly, the truck comes to a stop on the side, as the people in the cab argue at the top of the line. Convoy pulls over ahead and sends out a drone.

DM: The big turtle blimp flies out the top of the truck.
Convoy: I’M NOT USING THE BLIMP!
Salvo: (farting blimp noises)
DM: Zero’s on the front!
Zero: He’s got the stink bombs… what else did it come with?
Convoy: Congratulations, you’re the new Casey Jones. (playing Dare To Be Stupid) Go, guys.

Indigo and Salvo lash out from surprise, striking cleanly and totaling up their rolls.

DM: Jesus Christ, Salvo, you did 10 Serious damage to the back of this guy’s head? Well HE’S not living!
Convoy: Hey, if it’s only Serious damage, then yeah, he is!
DM: Oh yeah. But he’s still unconscious.
Salvo: No, he’s just really hurt and got some negatives.

Salvo reveals he has the “Wolverine 3” variant of the cyberspurs; Convoy is disappointed. Initiative is rolled! Salvo and Indigo erupt into a flurry of melee combat, killing one and putting one inches from death; the back of the truck flies open and four mooks pile out to join the fray. The MMG on the Strato-9 drone annihilates two of them, while Zero’s sniper rifle disintegrates the head of a third.

Convoy: You know, I’m just imagining, some cop drives by on the highway.
Zero: You could have a clay pigeon launcher installed on the roof, pretend that I’m shooting at them.
Convoy: Yeah, shooting at them, no arc…
Zero: I’ll just have a Nintendo Zapper, cord still hanging out…
Convoy: Steel Lynx: “Ha ha ha ha ha.”

Salvo and Indigo draw their weapons and put bullets into various foes; then, an injured guard actually gets to act! He’s so injured his bullets are flying blindly, anywhere but at the shadowrunners. Zero and Convoy put so much damage into the remaining guards that the DM throws his dice down in anger and declares them dead without even bothering to resolve the fight.

DM: Bodies litter the ground as you kill the entire registered team.
Convoy: You know, normally I try to play a character who’s against brutal murders, we would’ve just Narcojected this ones, but you know, you guys get enough of that in D&D from my existence, so I decided to go easy on y’all, let you get it out of your system here.
Salvo: Thank you.
Zero: I’ll put a note in their HR files. Eventually. When we’re not in the desert.
Convoy: “Security was poor” – hey, those Sagaro are all wireless, you know. That’s how they evolved in the Sixth Age.

Salvo angrily insists on driving the truck because it has manual controls! Convoy and he argue a while; the DM describes Salvo finishing off his van in two seconds flat.

DM: As you jack in: “Please enter password to begin systems operation check.”
Convoy: (sighing)
DM: “Please enter password to begin systems operation check.”
Convoy: (swapping the datajack into Zero’s head)

Zero crushes the password easily. The DM grumbles.

Convoy: Do me a favor and cripple the password out while you’re in there.
Salvo: The password is now “crippled”.
Convoy: Hey, if I know what it is…
DM: What are you trying to do, what?
Convoy: I told him to cripple the password so he made the password “crippled”.
Zero: Although a 1 in place of the i.
Convoy: Oh thank god. We’re not secure. It won’t be subject to dictionary-based searches. Unless they’re actually programmed with half a brain.
DM: Boop. “This is Base Check 5 6. What seems to be the problem, you’re stopped out in the middle of Sector C, what’s going on over there? Base Truck 5 6? Base Truck 5 6, come in.”
Zero: “Base Truck 5 6, everything’s fine, situation normal.”
Convoy: (whispering) “Salvo! Find the – whatever it is!”
Salvo: “What?”
Convoy: “Find the whatever it is, the tracker!”
Indigo: “…in the truck?”
Convoy: (howling and whimpering, then collapsing into his own arms)
Zero: “Tracking system, malfunction. We have it under control now, it’s going to be back up any moment.”
DM: “Tracker seems to be responding quite normally to our list, can you go ahead and give me the passcode, sir? I know it’s a standard operations check, but we just need the passcode to preserve proper operations here at Systems Base 5.”
Zero: “10-4 base, passcode is C-R-1-P-P-L-E-underscore…”
Indigo: I got three sixes and two fives to find that fucking thing that he wants me to get rid of—
Convoy: (sputtering and banging on the table)

Indigo locates the tracker and lobs it into the bed of a passing truck. Salvo obligingly crushes the communicator, leaving Zero making staticky noises for no reason.

Zero: “We’re fine here, we’re all fine… how are you?”
Salvo: “I’m fine, ya bloody idiot, now let’s go!”

They drive off, trusting that the cops will be distracted with a stack of corpses and thus too busy to arrest them for speeding. The group berates Convoy for liking My Little Pony, as usual; they officially declare that guys may only like Sailor Moon.

DM: “I said get me extra if you could. I didn’t mean the whole fucking truck!”
Convoy: “It was easier this way.”
DM: “All right, pull it out the back, we gotta see how much extra we owe him. Jesus.”
Salvo: …in fact, we never looked inside.
DM: “YOU BROUGHT THE WRONG TRUCK!”
Convoy: Nothing but security guys. 40 cyberzombies who are all after my mechanic friend. No! No! 40 drones by that guy we pissed off! Steel Lynxes pour out, Ride of the Valkyries starts playing…
DM: I was dicking with you the whole time. Never remind you to check the truck, just okay, you drive on. Never check if it was a trap or anything. You get back there, there’s just a bomb.
Convoy: Truck door opened automatically. We open it up, it’s some guy slow-clapping.
Salvo: Golbez?
DM: “I have traveled through space and time for this moment.”
Convoy: Kurt Burton?

The group makes off with 175,000 each for their work, to their astonishment. Convoy bitterly points out that he did all the hard work, while the DM just sighs over their ability to kill mooks nigh-instantly. The game ends with mockery of the GIANT GAME HOUSE GOLDFISH.