Yet another scenario gameplay thread

Prologue 2: Gavin Reed (post 1 of 2)

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The next morning, at the Detroit Police Department Central Station, the officers of the morning shift trickled in one by one.

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One of those was Gavin Reed, a detective of the homicide section. The man had applied for transfer to the more prestigious paranormal investigations section, (especially since that one was still lacking a Lieutenant, and Gavin felt more than qualified to fill that slot), but every time Captain Fowler had rejected the appliccation. Only the safely dead, the Captain claimed, were patient enough to endure Gavin’s inappropriate jokes.

Gavin: “‘morning, Chika!”

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Chika: “Good morning, detective.”

That was a new tune the detective was playing! A human supremacist to his very core, Gavin would never have greeted an android first. But as of this fall the man did so regularly. Strangely enough there had been no change in his treatment of androids in other regards.

So there had to be an ulterior motive here. But what was it, the receptionist android wondered?

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Gavin was about to pass by Officer Mack and System Administrator Miller, when the duo stopped him.

"How?” the officers prodded, “Pray tell, how can you tell Chika apart from Rika? They look identical! They ARE identical in all respects!”

Gavin: “You’d like to know that, huh, Alakay?”

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Alakay, the lion who danced when should have fought! That was Gavin’s derogatory for Alexander Mack, and the nickname normally served to humiliate the man utterly. Today it gave the officer hope to maybe get an answer out of his co-worker. If Gavin alakay’ed Alex, chances were he’d follow up with a show of his own greatness.

However...

Gavin: “See, that’s why you are a beat cop, but I’m the detective. - Toodles!”

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Alexander: “Danggit! Not even other androids can tell our receptionist twins apart! And neither can Antony, despite being our resident android overseer. So what’s this man’s secret?!”

Susan: “Maybe he just hit an insanely long streak of getting a 50% chance right? But, no, scratch that. Gavin isn’t guessing. I noticed him look at Chika intently before saying its name.”

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Gavin quickly changed and then took a seat at his desk in the “bullpen”, the DPD’s large main office. At eight desks only, it seemed irregularly small, and wouldn’t have met the specifications twenty years ago.

But in 2038 a large chunk of the staff consisted of androids and those didn’t need desks.

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Gavin can see them neatly lined up along the wall, in their tiny boxes. Directly logged into the DPD’s system, the digital officers upload their patrols’ results and receive new instructions.

Detectives like Gavin thus can access always the most current data about the goings on in Detroit.

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So far the androids’ presence hadn’t bothered Gavin, in fact, in the past he had glossed over the devices’ very existence, the way you didn’t actively acknowledged the dishwasher in the cafeteria, when you didn’t need to load it (what Gavin never did, anyway). The bots being no more sophisticated than Antony’s drones, bullying them wouldn’t have brought Gavin satisfaction. On the same account they had never posed a threat to his position.

But as of last month there were more advanced detective androids, one prototype at least is currently in testing right here at the DPD, and that one’s existence had shaken Gavin Reed to his bones.

Suddenly the lesser androids staring at him makes the man feel uncomfortable...

Note: "Alakay" wasn't in my poll, because he is only on the wrong footing with Gavin, not with the other five listed sims And also it's Gavin antagonizing Alex, the other way around Alexander doesn't seek confrontation with Gavin (or with anybody). In my rotational save Alex later married Rika.

Prologue 2: Gavin Reed (post 2 of 2)

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Rika: “Good morning, detective Reed.”

Gavin (internally): I already greeted Chika, so if this one greets me now, it must be Rika.

Gavin (out loud): “What is it, Rika?”

Rika: “I’m here to inform you that Detective Collins is off the Henry Ford Park case. Captain Fowler gave it it to you instead. You should find the files in your folder right now.”

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Gavin: “Yes, I see them. Swell! - What’s with the judgemental look, tincan?!”

Rika: “I merely mimic the staff’s feelings about the re-assignment. Sorry, Sir.”

Gavin: “Oh, do you? And what is the staff feeling, ey?”

Rika: “They are well aware that it was you who pointed out Collins’ mistake in the investigation to the Captain, a calculated move to score over your senior.”

Gavin: “So you’all think I should let the murderer run around unchecked for a couple of weeks longer, just because I coincidentally got assigned to the same workplace as Ben? Is that it? Nah, I've got a phking a job to do!”

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Rika: “You could have called Detective Collins’ attention to his mistake...”

Gavin: “Great, your social module is working, wish we could say that of all our toasters. Now vamoose!”

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Over at the opposite wall Connor Stern and Hank Anderson were discussing poor Ben Collins’ defeat, too.

Connor: “Admittedly I’m more concerned about you than I am about Detective Collins. I know you two are good friends, so this must get to you...”

Hank: “Sure does!”

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Hank: “I think I’ll bury myself in work to get over my disappointment... Like setting up everyone’s shedules for the rest of the year. It’s my duty as Lieutenant anyway.”

Connor: “Dad?! I joined last month only, but I already know that you only ever do the timetables on pain of death!”

Hank: “Oh, I feel much more motivated with you at my side now! Totally soaring and stuff! - Ah, I see Antony Deckart volunteered for the holiday shift. We need another one. You know what the neat thing about Gavin Reed is, son?”

Connor: “There is one?”

Hank: “He’s a father, but not a husband. Not even living with the kiddo’s mom, officially as single as single can get. That means Gavin is first in line for taking the shifts at all major holidays. - And into this year’s slot he goes. Merry Christmas, Gavin Curtis Reed!!!”

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Hank (chuckling): “Things to do before turning sixty: Abusing your power - check. And that I tell you, Connor, I feared I’d never score that particular checkmark!”

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Meanwhile Tina Chen, Gavin’s best friend (with benefits), rushed over to Gavin, but not to congratulate him on his victory over the senior detective. Never one for smalltalk, Tina outright demanded for Gavin to let her in on his secret. The secret of how he could tell the identically looking receptionist androids apart.

If there was one saving grace about Gavin Reed, then that was the man’s reluctance to lie.

Tina: “...so that means when you told Alakay you being able to tell Chika from Rika was connected to you being a detective, you really meant that. You do not see minuscle differences in their faces, it must be... something behaviour related? Some minor quirk of Chika’s that only you noticed?”

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Gavin: “You got me there. Behaviour is too phking strong a word, though. And my uncanny android identification power will go away after the holidays, so I want to enjoy it while it lasts.”

Tina: “Now you confused me. Damn! I was sure I had worked it out.”

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Gavin: “Did, too. See, Chika is lagging a bit, like the used computer it is. It’s most notably when it types.”

Tina: “Okay, I figured something along those lines. But how is your ability to see this temporary?”

Gavin: “Cuzz the ST300s will go into extended maintenance in the time between the years. Afterwards Chika will be up to spec again.”

Maintenance... a short respite from their burdens and personality problems... it was what the humans and androids both were looking forward at this time of the year.

Enjoying this a lot :) bookmarked.

Thank you for your kind words @mightysprite !

I played through two of the three holidays today (taking care not to travel as not to trigger the auto-complete bug) and completed the scenario. Of course the DPD's timetable doesn't care for something as ephemeral as a "scenario" won. Duty is duty, you gotta see it through. So tomorrow I'm going to play the third day and then start writing the captions.

Prologue 3: Antony Deckart (post 1 of 4)

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That same night a lone figure stood atop DPD central station. The man stretched and inhaled the chill winter air. A smile crossed his face when he picked up the distinct scent of a freshly unpacked electronic device. It basically tasted like electricty.

“C’mon, girl, time to spread your wings!” the man spoke into the direction of a small surveillance drone.

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The man’s name was Antony Deckart, and he was DPD central station’s equipment officer. Everything from handguns through cars up to the patrol androids were his responsibility, a duty the officer enjoyed a lot.

Tonight Antony was testing the latest addition to his carpark, a basic, store bought drone. But the fact that it was the device’s virgin cruise combined with the other fact that municipal institutions rarely got anything new, made the occasion feel like early christmas.

Antony donned his Goggles and connected them to the drone. When he was satisfied with the flow of information, he started the hummingbird.

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The rotors started whirling and then Antony’s newest toy took off into Detroit’s nightsky...

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The drone took flight. From up high - and it didn’t even have to be exceptionally high, just rooftop level - there was nothing Antony couldn’t spy while being connected to the drone’s feed through his goggles.

Every suspicious lurker in a street corner...

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...the smallest activity in some apartment art studio...

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...and every last, however petty, traffic offense, Antony saw as if through his own eyes.

When he was satisfied with the device’s performance, Antony looked up into the sky. He felt gravity pull at him hard, unlike the free-wheeling surveillance drone. But the same power that grounded him also forcing the stars in line was a comforting thought for Antony.

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How awesome would it be to leave this meat body behind? Not as in dying, but to merge with a robotic form that had inherited everything modern computer technology was able to do as its damn birthright! A bit like an android, only fully sentient.

But of course humans were humans and machines were machines. Androids only appeared lifelike and humans could only borrow machine senses for a short while, using clumsy interfaces.

This is perhaps a good time to clarify that androids in this setting are fully sentient, the humans are only in denial about it. The servos are animal-like, closer to service dogs than slaves.

Prologue 3: Antony Deckart (post 2 of 4)

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The nightshift was dragging on. From the corners of his eyes Godefroy Wilson saw a fellow officer enter the main office. The other man passed him by without saying a word, then slipped into one of the android compartments.

There he - or it, rather - connected to the interactive tactical map to update it.

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It had been just a patrol android all along.

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Antony, now sporting a mechanical arm that enhanced his handyness, grunted.

Unlike the other patrol bots, this one had kept his outeskin online, the extra layer that made it appear more humanlike.

“Simulation lag AGAIN”, the equipment officer moaned, then barked at the android: “Skin!”

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There was no need for an additional command, something like “Skin down” or similar. The bark alone was sufficient to work through the glitch and a second later the android cop stood there in his “birthday suit”.

Yelling at an appliance to make it function as intended - now if only that worked on all electronics, Antony thought to himself!

Meanwhile the patrol bot stood in line with its brother and sister models, indistinguishable from them, and also clearly not a human.

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For years, and even far into 2038, taking down the outerskin when standing idle hadn’t been a requirement for DPD androids. But ever since the android riots of November it was part of the regulations, a precaution to prevent people from humanizing the bots too much.

In humans, imagining the machines as being alive, could lead to them sympathizing with glitched or outdated ones to unhealthy degrees, Antony believed. In androids, that the man had witnessed several times, it could lead to the feared android deviance.

Therefore, however much he wanted differently, the officer tried for a cold demeanour towards his patrol bots.

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An android whom the “skin offline when idle” rule hardly ever bothered was Daniel, the DPD’s janitor.

For one, the officers made sure the PL600 android hardly ever was idle, and for two, Daniel in robotic form didn’t radiate the reassuring “Everything’s under control, citizen” vibe the Chief of Police aimed for. To the contrary, Robo!Daniel’s presence said “Back to your dens, little mammals!” It was looking much more amiable in an apron, so that was what Antony put the android into most of the time.

Daniel was a deviant, a term that had become so common that nobody even remembered anymore that Officer Deckart at the DPD had coined it. Deviance, according to Antony’s definition, was when an android was displaying activity that wasn’t dictated by its programming, or even went against it, despite not being bugged or damaged.

On occasion a deviant might claim to be alive, self-determined, what was probably a reflection of the many stories of robots becoming sentient.

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Antony: “Connor’s desk could use some cleaning, too.”

Daniel: “Naturally. Everything that has Connor-stain on it requires deep-pore sanitation with a laboratory grade sterilizer.”

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Daniel: “What exactly are you doing there, Officer Deckart?”

Antony: “Attaching a replacement arm to PM700-302.”

Daniel: “So you’re... arming up your androids!”

Almost a friendly conversation...

...if only Antony had laughed or even groaned at the pun. But glossing the deviant’s attempt at smalltalk over altogether didn’t bode well.

Prologue 3: Antony Deckart (post 3 of 4)

Antony: “Engage it in a friendly conversation, Daniel!”

Ouch. The command, although sensible in the light of testing the new arm’s motorics, felt like a hot knife between Daniel’s ribs. Both the patrol bot and the janitor were androids, whereas Antony was a human, part of a species Daniel claimed to deeply detest. By right Daniel should have preferred socializing with an android any day, even with a non-deviant, robotic one.

But as a deviant he couldn’t help it that interacting with humans came much more naturally to Daniel. Additionally the janitor knew next to nothing about policework. There was simply no common ground at all between him and PM700-302.

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Daniel: “So, uh... how’s the weather outside?”

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A casual reply, because every CyberLife android expected to interact with humans was capable of holding a conversation, an accompanying movement of the arm... that was all Antony had needed to see.

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Daniel: “I see you also padded the sleeve to hide that fact that there is only a thin metal stick underneath. Clever.”

Antony: “Yeah. The damage is hardly noticeable now.”

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Freshly repaired, PM700-302 returned to the android boxes, where it started downloading its next assignment.

Everything seemed in order again.

Prologue 3: Antony Deckart (post 4 of 4)

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Daniel: “I... I have to give it to you, I hadn’t expected you’d do that. Repairing 302, I mean. So the man who shot our ornamental fish is a decent person, after all...?”

Antony: “YOU hit the fishtank!”

Daniel: “Because I was aiming at you, but you dodged. So it was your fault!”

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Daniel: “Aaaaanyway, you know my backstory, my previous owners planning to replace me, and me losing it as a result. So you’ll know what watching you just now felt like for me. Going through the trouble of cobbling together that skeletal replacement arm when no standard model was available... to keep 302 running... when other humans discard androids for far lesser damage...

Heck, Antony, I’m afraid I misjudged you! I never knew you cared!!!”

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Antony: “Haha! Well, municipal funding is a thing, something you won’t have had to trouble yourself with back at fancy Park Avenue! But I admit, it wasn’t just having to do with what we have. I’d really have missed the old girl if we’d had to invalid it out. Or any of my androids.

But that’s the problem, actually. I’m the resident “android lover”, that quirk makes me an outsider among the humans. And I know that whenever I talk to an android, there is nothing listening in that plastic skull. It’s only simulated.

So in the end, when I talk to you, I only ever talk to myself... that has to change! I promise that during the upcoming holiday shift I will make an effort to bond with my partner, who’ll be a real person!”

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Daniel: “Here’s a happy thought for you, officer: maybe you won’t have to make that effort, because you’ll spend Christmas in the hospital!”

Antony: "Daniel, you little sh...!!!"

Daniel: "Oh, go complain to my programmer at CyberLife! Since I'm "not real", they must have threatened you just now!"

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Real person or machine, self-aware of simulated, none of that mattered when you were getting actively attacked by one of your androids. Defend... overpower... in between insult the opponent, not because you believed the machine would feel hurt, but as an automated reaction to lower your own stress.

Daniel was lightning fast and agile, but just like his human opponent he preferred ranged weapons. In a brawl the lithe PL600 wasn’t a real match for a human, especially tonight, when Antony still had his mechanical tinkering aid equipped.

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Knowing that, Daniel aimed a bit lower...

Antony: “Ooof... NOW you earned your ticket to the scrapyard! Attacking a human in full sight of another officer...”

However...

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Godefroy: “Will you stop with that noise already, Tony?! Some of us are trying to work here!”

Antony: “It started! Daniel, I mean! It tried to kick me in the family jewels!”

Godefroy: “Right, about that... You will immediately uninstall that mod! Using our Daniel, that cannot harm a fly, as your sparring partner is just creepy.”

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Godefroy: “Look, Tony, if you need a punching ball that badly, I hear you’re partnered with Gavin Reed over the holidays. Nobody here would mind if that one acquired a couple of new scars.”

(Meanwhile Daniel: “It’s not a phase, mom, I really am a deviant!”)

Note: Godefroy Wilson is not related to Marlon Wilson.

Surviving the Holidays - my sims moved in!

December 24. The morning of Christmas Eve.

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Since the day Hank had finalized the timetable, the snow had continually melted to the point where the streets were free today. Gavin Reed took that as an opportunity to show off his cold resistance, combining patroling the neighborhood with a jog.

This is actually his work task for the day. Because the scenario is bugged, I must not ever travel with my sims. Gavin therefore works in Military, Antony in Engineering, two jobs they can do from home.

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Meanwhile Antony Deckart quickly retreated into the main office, relieved not to have to interact with the detective yet. Between the “android lover” and the human supremacist stood not only their different worldviews, as of late Gavin had also started getting closer to Daniel, and with Daniel and Antony still (or once again) being as contrary as they had been when they had first met in august, Gavin was Antony’s enemy by association.

After checking on his patrol bots, the equipment officer put up a workbench and started tinkering with abandon.

Antony already knew that he had a Build your own Servo kit coming from Santa this year, in fact, he had taken it with him when he had left home this morning (still wrapped, of course). Now the man was preparing components that he’d need later.

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Gavin passed by Officer Orochi Person*. The woman smiled. Of course she would, Gavin thought. Everyone who had the day off themselves would smile when they spotted a less fortunate co-worker!

Next he saw a man dressed up as Kylon Ren, who sold wooden figurines. The wooden star to the far left looked vaguely christmas-y, so Gavin bought it. After how the detective had sabotaged old Ben last week, not to mention how creative he got to avoid having to chip in for the coffee, Orochi wouldn’t have believed Gavin would ever give to charity. But truth was, having disposable cash to throw around and doing some good felt good to Gavin - in exactly that order.

When Gavin returned to the police station, the reception area was empty. Antony had lit Rika’s and Chika’s advent wreath, but the girls themselves were absent, undergoing maintenance at a CyberLife store.

The men would have to put a patrol android to reception desk duty later, or take turns doing it themselves. Both were social persons, Gavin even moreso than Antony, but despite this he’d fight teeth and claws against manning the reception. To the proud detective being relegated to “Hello, my name is Gavin, how can I help you?” would be unbearable.

Angry at the very thought, the man marched down the hallway.

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Gavin hadn’t yet reached the public area’s Christmas Tree, when he heard Antony address him via the loudspeakers: “Could you stay right where you are and wait for the food delivery? I’m running a diagnosis here, can’t leave now. But I ordered spaghetti and clam chowder.”

“Weird combination, but I’ll take it”, Gavin replied into his walkie-talkie.

“Jokester”, Antony chuckled, secretly relieved that he seemed to get Gavin the office clown for his partner, when he had been anxious about getting partnerd with Gavin the office bully all the time. The detective could just as well insulted Antony for using the building’s cameras and speakers as his eyes and mouth, called him an A.I. or something. But he hadn’t done so. Maybe those three days wouldn’t turn out that bad, after all.

“Anyway, the courier should arrive any moment!”

*...Yes, that’s her surname. You’d think she’d be desperate to marry just to stop the jokes about it, but so far wasn’t interested.

Reluctantly Gavin took a seat behind the reception desk, wondering whether the incoming food delivery was maybe a ploy to coax him into doing this job. Gavin would certainly have tried something like that on Antony. But was the equipment officer capable of...

RING-RING!

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“The clam chowder!” Gavin gasped in anticipation, then hit the button that would unlock the front door. The wings swang wide open and revealed... some food getting delivered, anyway. Only not the anticipated clam chowder.

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Gavin: “Okay, I can spot the crime and you delivered the evidence. Any idea who the culprit might have been?”

Rupert: “Ey? What crime are you talking about? We’re here to gift you this fruitcake as a Thank You gesture from Urban Farms Detroit for all your hard work this year. It was made with choice ingredients from the Rooftop Farm.”

Gavin: “Okay, thanks, I guess. We’ll honor that gift of yours. Put it safely into a locked vitrine, like one does with prized possessions. It’ll go great next to the killer weapons in the evidence archive!”

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Ah, the clam chowder and spaghetti finally came through.

Gavin: “I never in my life turned down free grub, but I’m beginning to see why people say that only things you paid for have any worth...”

(Gavin then used poor Rupert and Travis to finish his aspiration goals of 10 mischievious/mean interactions and being disliked by two sims.)

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Antony didn’t feel like intruding into Gavin’s exchanging insults with the Urban Farms envoys. He slid into the reception hall, paid the delivery person, and slid out with the paperbag in hand.

A complication arose when the man opened the bag. Antony (or rather) I seemed to have forgotten to add the spaghetti to the shopping cart, so only the clam chowder had arrived. Antony now had the choice between eating Gavin’s shellfish soup or to make do with the fruitcake.

It was a non-choice, really.

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A little later Gavin entered the cafeteria. The appetitzing smell of clam chowder was still in the air and the detective couldn’t wait to...

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...find that it came from the empty bowl Antony had left on the table. Ever since the DPD had its own dedicated PL600 android, even those few officers who had used to do their own dishes had weaned themselves of that habit.

Gavin: “Antony, you little dipshit!!! Didn’t even bother removing the evidence from the crime scene...”

By now the detective’s stomach was growling loudly. Waiting for another delivery wasn’t an option, the choice was now between an instant meal from the vending machine or the dreaded fruitcake. Come to think of it, maybe Urban Farms fruitcake would actually be edible? The company was famous for its fruit and veggies, after all!

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Gavin: “Christmas is supposed to bring back warm childhood memories in people. But I really could have done without the one where I’d gladly eat anything, only to feel full for once.”

Expecting to bite into something dry, and the occasional candied red bullet assaulting his teeth, Gavin was surprised to find that what he actually bit into felt more like a sponge. Then he took another bite... the fruit were plump and moist, because the Urban Farms team had soaked them long enough that there was no need for them to suck the moisture out of the bread dough. There was a hint of scotch, dried Michigan cherries, apircot and nuts. It tasted...

In fact, it still tasted like nothing Gavin Reed would have preferred on his platter. But the detective realized that he was eating some real good, expensive shit, and that experience made it worth to the man. The fact that you had to do this only once per year made it even better!

Tomorrow: Sometime I'll have to make them meet. Sigh.