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3,496 checks

The craftsmanship is obvious, as if the seamstress manipulated a fragment of a fallen star.

A hole in the collective memory that won't be noticed at first... but it'll be felt, sooner or later.

A big win for productivity. No more of that pesky human error to contend with.

That might be one cover that's beyond you. Not much mother in you at all.

Hffff, ooooo, mmmhhhmmmm...

In a place like this, it wouldn't be surprising if the kids were the ones who put them in here in the first place.

TEMPTATIONS OF THE FLESH ONLY INSULT THE INTELLECT OF THE PEOPLE.

Images aren't enough. You need to get hands-on -- rolling around, biting, giggling.

It's almost like you don't have more important things to be doing with your time...

Blood and guts in black and white. Wicked.

You've seen that name before, browsing at the newsstand while Tempo badgered and bartered over cigarettes.

Higher quality materials don't equate to better editorial content -- it just pushes up the base cost per unit.

REJECTING THE PETTY APPRAISER'S HAND. COMMENDABLE!

The faintly sweet smell of old paper, tinged with an unpleasant hint of mildew.

A prisoner of his own desire.

A bubble just waiting to be burst.

Blood rush. Boiling. Fist clench.

There. The little mental tickle -- that's your brain telling you you're close to something important.

If it weren't for the handset he's clutching you would've laid him right out.

But also attention. He won't brush you off so easily now.

THE ENEMY FLEES FROM THE POST-HISTORICAL DUSTBIN.

COWED BY THE LIQUID ENEMY. YOU'VE BROUGHT DISCREDIT TO THE PEOPLE'S SPIES.

But also attention. He won't brush you off so easily now.

He won't brush you aside so easily now.

Your approach is laughably unbalanced. See how he deflects you with a flurry of maladroit gestures.

The physical body often telegraphs the feelings that trouble the insides.

A pained intensity in his lowered voice that strains his vocal chords.

UNACCEPTABLE. THE PEOPLE'S REPRESENTATIVE WON'T BE OBSTRUCTED.

This rocket is close to lift off. No room for a co-pilot in that command capsule.

For his services at this payphone he is paid nothing -- and yet, he remains number one employee of the month, every month.

THE BLOODY HAND OF TRANSNATIONAL CAPITAL.

He is all limbs, an unloved body at home only in the most ergonomic of chairs.

Already set on life's glide path, and all it cost him was his humanity.

REGULATE THEM STRAIGHT TO THE LUNAR CADMIUM MINES AND THE MATTER WILL NOT ARISE.

A GROSS UNDERESTIMATION OF THE PEOPLE'S ARSENAL. THERE ARE STILL THOUSANDS OF LANDMINES BURIED FROM THE LAST WARS.

Kill this little shit.

THIS CLASS-FOE MUST BE MADE TO RELINQUISH THE PUBLIC'S INFRASTRUCTURE.

ONE OF CAPITAL'S ARCH-VILES. A CLASS-FOE PAR EXCELLENCE.

A feeling like an ice-dagger pierces your gut.

Motions entirely devoid of grace. A complete lack of bodily control.

SUCH AN INSULT TO THE PEOPLE'S DRIP CANNOT GO UNANSWERED.

We can't stand for this disrespect any longer. Time to Assemble!

Can't even convince himself with the insults jittering out of his brain.

The wheel itself isn't distinguishing enough -- it could belong to a number of high-end model sets.

THE REALLOCATION OF RESOURCES.

EMTERR's personnel department. Infamous for their hands-on approach to quarterly check-ins.

You're under no obligation to stop your opponent from making a mistake.

Anticipation. Building. Bursting.

The sound of desire, freshly unearthed. L'Appel de gap.

3,496 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 10 of 70