A.Journal

Checks

Easy

Throttling it. As though it had betrayed him.

Medium

An abrupt loss in hand-eye coordination -- in Ramses, who had the hands of a surgeon.

Easy

The horror of bodily disobedience. The self turned other.

Trivial

Light flickers with the singsong iridescence of open flame. Candles.

Easy

The Party lives on.

Medium

Overhead, something stirs. It has been waiting.

Easy

THE PARTY LIVES ON.

Trivial

You'll need your flashlight to compensate for your pathetic fleshy corneas.

Trivial

That's way too fucking boring to remember! We've already forgotten it again.

Easy

She's made the exchange with your opposite number on your behalf.

Easy

You'd be trapped here.

Easy

The kind of gäng pile-on you don't come back from.

Trivial

Awful waste management. The ex-pilots did know what they were talking about.

Easy

The dark ones are galvanized steel. Threaded joints, auxiliary lines for overflow -- a major upgrade.

Medium

A Wachbann door. Double-skin boron-alloy, tungsten-carbide backing, sixty millimetre core. High-end prison-grade.

Trivial

Between that and the intercom, Hauzmann wasn't kidding about recent security upgrades.

Easy

A forking road, then. Above, you'd have to blend in. Below, you bask in the shadows, and hope trouble doesn't await beyond the door.

Easy

You still don't know what the building above contains. Maybe there's an easier way in.

Easy

You have so far gone unnoticed. You may spoil that by exploring other routes.

Trivial

Hauzmann mentioned recent security upgrades. That'd be one of them.

Trivial

Quite the investments in security, between that door and the intercom.

Trivial

Quite the investment in security.

Trivial

That, and the intercom. The heartless man in the bar wasn't kidding about security upgrades.

Trivial

The heartless man mentioned recent security upgrades. That'd be one of them.

Easy

Knows you're probably lying. Lets it slide, like always.

Easy

A lurch in your stomach at the sight of the drop.

Trivial

Your fingers itch for grip.

Easy

Wet cloth and iron dust. Foul. Chemical.

Trivial

A sneaky way in, far from prying eyes...

Trivial

Looking out over the canal, a thought surfaces: that of PSEUDOPOD's soiled, wet trousers.

Easy

It's not about the canal. It's what's built around it.

Trivial

We're sniffing around here for a reason, right?

Trivial

Like the one over there, to the east.

Trivial

And it seems the GM is no longer blocking the door...

Easy

There's a small room to the east. Might be worth a look.

Easy

In all likelihood, that's the door the GM is guarding.

Easy

Minor additions won't compromise the bag's usability. You may proceed.

Trivial

What about a cat? Cats roll deep. Lurking in dumpsters, owning streets and rooftops, ruining ecosystems.

Trivial

Recall the emblematic cigarette. Mystery, composure, lives lived on borrowed time -- an homage to your craft.

Trivial

You could just leave it as is. Restraint's also a choice.

Medium

The classes may mingle during the day, but by evening they sort themselves back where they belong.

Easy

The sweet smell of ripening waste drifts up from dozens of household bins.

Medium

Up there, your heart beats twice as fast and half as hard.

Medium

RISE UP, YOU WRETCHED OF THE MOON. YOU HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE BUT YOUR FREEZE-DRIED RATIONS AND THE RECYCLED AIR IN YOUR LUNGS.

Easy

Don't forget the lunar cadmium mines!

Medium

A preview of coming attractions.

Medium

All around, movement clings to structure. Sightlines, bottlenecks, exits. People move as water does around rocks. A map has begun to emerge.

Medium

We made it back. Off the shelf and back in the current. No forms, no cold offices. This is how it's supposed to be. Noise, people -- chances.

Medium

Parse the Bootleg Bazaar's ebbs and flows.

Easy

Nerves, stretched taut to breaking point.