Sorry this is so long in coming; it's been a draining workweek. I'll try to pick up the pace a little in the coming week. Anyway...aiee. Gang Alley, McPherson Square. I have not been looking forward to this. It's not like it's really anything that different from the rest of this talky-ass game; it's just such a long, unbroken, relatively bland stretch of talkiness which is going to be really tiresome to transcribe. Ah, well. Sacrifices must be made if we are to clear our names get revenge on the Hand clear our names.

As soon as we arrive, we automatically enter conversation with Christopher Modesta of the Clean Machine, the black-jacketed dude off to the left. As will be obvious soon enough, the members of the Clean Machine represent virtues, while the Deadly Seven gang members each represent one of the seven deadly sins. Modesta is, of course, Modesty.

Can I help you with something?

We're investigating a murder victim named Brian Avery. We also want to ask you some questions about Chastity Bene.

I'm sorry, I don't know anything about a Brian Avery. And Chastity...well, she's been...out a lot lately. Sorry.

What about here? You in charge?

Well, you might say that. The others seem to...well, I guess they've appointed me...leader.

Well, how exciting for you. What's going on with you and Chastity?

Well, I don't know if anything's really going on, but I think she's got kind of a crush on Dolph Van Ittey, the Deadlies' leader. The thing is, Chastity's so sweet and naive, she doesn't know what he's really like.

Dolph Van Ittey. Yes, Van Ittey. What a strange coincidence that a lad born into a family called Van Ittey would grow up to represent Pride!

What's your problem with Van Ittey?

There's no problem. He runs his gang, and I try to lead the Cleans, that's all. If he wants to corrupt young people who don't know any better, that's his business. If he wants to...

We get you, kid. You don't give a damn.

I'm sorry. It's not that I don't care. It's just that it's not my place to do anything about it. I just try to lead by example. I mean, for instance, if I knew that Dolph Van Ittey had some terrible secret in his closet...something that might make the Deadlies disown him...well, it just woulcn't be my place to uncover it. I'm just not talented enough to investigate it.

Not like, say, some hardnoses you might come across who're investigating a murder.

Uh, right. I mean, I'm REALLY sorry that I'm not able to, because I suspect Dolph's hiding the kind of information that might bring him down, even break up the Deadlies.

Can it, kid. I'm beginning to understand how a wimp like you got to run this outfit...but look, what's in it for us? I mean, if we dig up some dirt on Van Ittey, that's great for a power-mad little dweeb like you, and it'll probably make Chastity wise up, too. Then, if she's dumb enough to fall for your act, that's her business. But there's got to be something in it for us if we're gonna mess with those psychos across the alley.

What? What do you mean? I'm sorry, but I don't understand you.

You understand him, kid. He's saying we'll dig up whatever it is Van Ittey's hiding if you give us the scoop on Brian Avery. We know you know more about his murder than you're letting on.

I'm sorry, what was his name again? Brian Amory?

I'm gonna have to hit him. Let me hit him, Rach.

Get online, killer. Last chance, kid: Avery. The name is Brian Avery.

Oh, BRIAN! I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood you. Yes, I knew Brian. But I'm not sure I have what you need. I mean, I'd have to...think about it. But I'd have time to do that for you while you're, uh, doing what you said you were going to do about Dolph.

Sounds like we already got a deal. C'mon, Rach, let's get started before I have to give this kid a real reason to say "sorry" all the time.

Gang Alley: Some sort of demilitarized zone has been established in this alley between the headquarters of the Cleans and the Deadlies. That doesn't prevent them from hurling dirty looks and epithets across the space, however, and the air is charged enough to make the hair stand up on the back of your neck, as if just before an electrical storm.

Christopher Modesta (leftmost): A young man wearing a modest outfit apparently from the Salvation Army store, although it's color-coordinated and has fresh, meticulously sewn patches.

Chastity Bene (white top): A young woman uneasily eyes the youths on the other side of the alley. She is a collection of nervous tics and gestures as she chain-smokes cigarettes.

Dolph Van Ittey (purple jacket): A boffo musclehead reigns supreme over the Deadly Seven's street hangout. He is adept at sneaking frequent glimpses of himself in windows and finding the excuse to gesture with rippled arms. Simply an arrogant son of a bitch.

Blood McGrath (rightmost): His veins strain even in repose, although repose is most decidedly not his natural state...or even a place he's visited very often.

Talk to Chastity Bene

What're you looking at? Stop staring at me like that!

We aren't staring at you!

Yeah, right. Like this guy's not just staring at my breasts.

That's not really why we're...

It's not like I don't have a sex drive or that I'm not attracted to men.

Well, Christopher here tells us that you and the fellow across the street had a thing going.

That would seem like a "thing" to him. He blushes just shaking a girl's hand. Yeah, Dolph and I went out a few times. Pissed everybody off on both sides of the alley.

Guess it didn't work out.

Same old story for me. Things were about to get hot and heavy, and I just couldn't go through with it. Maybe I was lucky. I don't know how any woman could put up with that arrogant SOB. Look at him, with his chest thrust out and his nose in the air. God, but he is good looking...

For some reason we get a conversation choice here, though there's only one option to explore at this time.

(What's with those two across the alley?)
Dolph's the leader of the Deadly Seven. They think they're above the law, think they're too good to obey the Hand. That's Blood McGrath next to Dolph. Be careful with Blood. Most of the Deadly Seven are poofs, but he's a killer. He's the only one that scares me.

Well, listen, Gideon. If you want to go out later, I'm a safe date.

Talk to Dolph Van Ittey

Well, look what Squeaky Clean Tours just dropped off. On a little vacation to Sinworld, folks? Mr. and Ms. America visit the dark side of our urban nation? You guys bring cameras or what? Dolph would make a helluva slide show back home to show at the next card club.

I guess if you put an air hose up somebody's rear end, Gideon, eventually a bubble's gonna make its way to their brain.

That's some mouth on that one, mister. Hope she puts it to good use.

What could she possibly see in this guy, Gid?

Dunno. There's always the possibility that she's just not real bright.

Hey, who's not real bright? Who you talkin' about?

I think you know...and you wouldn't like us to spell it out for you right here, would you?

Yeah, I know who you mean, but keep it down. Any chick that I got somethin' going with, well, that ain't for all my people to know. These guys aren't all about love and shit. They're the edge, man. I come across lookin' soft in front of the Deadly Seven, my rep will go to hell along with my soul.

Talk to Dolph again
Why do you losers keep comin' back? Can't you guys, like, take your eyes off me or what?

Talk to Blood McGrath

Don't even come close to me, man, don't even think about it! I hate it when people get too friggin' close to me. I wanna just take 'em out, man. Just like I'm gonna do with the friggin' Clean Machine; I mean, I wanna blow them to kingdom friggin' come!

Easy, Gid. This guy's like nitroglycerine; you don't want to rattle him.

Uh, I don't know how to break this to you, Rach, but the guy appears to be rattled already.

That's another thing I friggin' hate! Whispering! The only friggin' quiet I like is that moment of silence right before ignition.

I think he's a little hard of hearing.

There's nothing wrong with my friggin' hearing, you dumbshits.

We'd like to ask you a few questions.

I knew it, I friggin' knew it. You two have that look that says friggin' enforcement, man, or virt revo squad, or some shit like that. Man, I hate that when I see it on somebody.

You know, it's guys like this that give us professional, hardworking bombers a bad name. You two go ahead and let me stay behind and give this guy a little personalized lesson. I mean, he's gonna blow himself up someday; I know this kind of guy, he's gonna want to taste it someday, I just know it! Why make him wait? I could do it for him now.

No, Cynna. We don't operate that way.

Yes we do! I mean, we could...

Believe me, I'd like to, but like you say, he'll buy it someday. Let's just hope he's by himself. C'mon, we've got to keep moving.

Look, kid, just tell us what you know about Brian Avery.

And leave all the sick evil shit out.

Watch it, asshole. I could stick a flyweight filter demo on you, you'd never know it! Delayed motion timer, you'd blow up just walking down the street! Nobody's innocent, man!

Including Avery?

Hell no! OK, OK, want to know about Avery, man? I'll tell you about Avery; he was playing both sides of the fence, supplying me, my enemies, even the Cleans with whatever they wanted.

He supplied the Cleans with explosives?

Fireworks for a party. That and some other stuff that didn't go boom. Petty, petty stuff man, all of it. I mean, man, I ought to give the Cleans a taste of what he really had! I'm thinking about it, too. Man, some of that friggin' Chastity, thinks she's so holy...but she's no better than anybody else. But things are coming, man, great things are coming!

I oughtta take you out now, do the world a favor.

Try it, man, just try it! I got this space wired. I could incinerate you before you got anywhere near me!

Back off, Gid!

Yeah, back off, "Gid"!

That takes care of everyone out in the Alley itself. The dialogue in the Deadly Seven HQ changes after you talk to the guys in the Clean Machine house, so we'll go meet the Seven first, to get their pre-Clean dialogue.

Deadly 7 Clubhouse: The front room of the Deadlies' clubhouse, where they attempt to impress upon visitors that they don't give a damn. Maybe it's the foot table, or the furniture covered with skins from endangered species...the ultimate statement seems to be as glaring as the neon sign: the Deadlies consider themselves the garish light of the world.

Laura Prophet (left): A smooth-talking, risk-taking hacker/finagler/wheeler-dealer who sleeps with one eye open and one ear cocked for the sound of change. She's street-smart; it's just that the street is Wall Street.

Dick Covett (middle): In clothes that are stylishly funky, this well-coifed young man has beady eyes that never seem to quit flicking around the room. It seems like he's checking out people's shoes, their watches, their jewelry...even though the stuff he's wearing is obviously top of the line.

Electric Sex (couch): Electric Sex is gazing out the window into the alley. Her look suggests that she's done it all and is looking for something more.

Talk to Prophet

Get lost! I only talk to money. Money, money, money. You two don't look like money. You look like a not-for-Prophet enterprise.

Psh, fine. You can access a horse-racing minigame through Laura once you've got enough money to get her attention, and later in the game, there's even a way to rig it, but you'll get all the money you'll ever need through story events, so there's no real point unless you really, really like watching numbers go up.

Talk to Covett

Nice belt you got on there.

Nice belt?

That's why I love him; he's such a fashion plate.

No, seriously, where'd you get it?

He stole it from somebody's laundry basket. We figured anybody who would WASH a leather belt didn't deserve it.

No, REALLY, what'd you pay for it?

Look, how about we resist beating you up for being weird, and you give us some information for free?

You don't scare me! The Deadlies risk eternal damnation every day; you think I'm scared of you? ...Although those are pretty wicked kick boots you've got on. I might be willing to chat in return for you giving me those.

My bet is he doesn't know anything. Do you, kid?

What's your point? ...Is that shirt a Senor Milardo?!

See? He's too busy trying to score all the time. C'mon, let's move on.

Talk to Covett again
Those ARE pretty wicked-looking kick boots you've got on!

Oh, cripes, it's the fashion monger. Get lost.

Talk to Electric Sex

In Electric Sex's talking animation loop, she keeps pulling her vest open and whipping a boob out. 3D-rendered nipple was a pretty surprising sight in a 1994 mass-market computer game, though the endless, rhythmic repetition made it look like some sort of weird physical compulsion.

I see you've been makin' friends fast around here. Mmm, mmm. Come, lemme get a good look atcha!

You're really taking a chance. You know, promiscuity is a one-way ticket to a dark afterlife these days!

Oh, open your minds! Whate are you holding onto that old righteousness for? What'll it getcha? Think your feeble attempts at morality will spare you from the fire and ice? Listen, we're all in for it, and this is our one chance to catch a little bit of heaven while we still can!

We've still got a few more things to finish up in this plane before we're ready to face the consequences.

Suit yourself!

I have to admit I kind of like Electric Sex (not to be confused with "I kind of like electric sex"). She's relatively friendly, and hers seems a mutual, harmless enough sort of hedonism.

Talk to Electric Sex again
Maybe we could talk if you guys actually did something around here besides gawking like a couple of kids on a field trip.

That door in the background leads back into the alley; there's another exit off the bottom of the screen, leading to the Rec Room.

The Deadlies' Rec Room: Where the real business of the Deadlies is conducted: drinking, lounging, listening to death rock at levels guaranteed to make your ears bleed, and watching illegal porno vids.

Barbara Bacchus (center): A plump, boozy young woman avoids the glares of the young man lounging on the sofa. The smell of gin surrounds her.

Languo (couch): Reclining on an old couch. From the looks of things, the couch was new when he first sat down.

Talk to Barbara Bacchus

You wouldn't be packing something I can hit on, would you?

What are you talking about? Hit what?

A little drink, a dust buster, a phlegm cutter. I've got the vermouth, the bitters, a dozen fruit juices, everything but the gin.

Not our problem, girlie. Do your own shopping.

I've learned THAT lesson. That lazy bastard Languo volunteered to get me a bottle when he saw me about to exhaust my last fifth, 'cept he's hardly moved from that sofa to get it.

He's got the hots for you?

If you can call it hot. What's he think any woman would see in him? He says he wants me, but he don't try too hard to get me.

Another odd single-option dialogue menu appears.

(Aren't you worried about violence with the Clean Machine?)
Help us out, and we'll enroll you in the Beers of the World club.

Oooh, I'm crazy for Angor Steam, just the right mix of pale and bitter! Damn straight there could be violence. Blood McGrath could do the psycho at any moment, Dick Covett would die if somebody were wearing nicer shoes than he was, and I might throttle Lector if she recommends one more diet course or sends the cops over here again looking for my juice.

Why stay so close to each other? Why not move away?

Let them win? This is our home too! And don't think we haven't tried to make peace. Few months ago we had a sitdown. Idea was to eat a big meal together and work out our problems. We were at each other's throats; whole thing ended with us throwing food at each other and Blood McGrath threatening to burn the Cleanies' house down.

How terrible.

At least I stole Stefan Benevolus's smokes.

A Cleanie smokes? Seems out of character.

He doesn't. They were a peace offering from Prophet, and Stefan was too polite not to smoke 'em.

Talk to Barbara again
You sure you don't have a shot of SOMETHING on ya?

Talk to Languo

Oh god, Languo. I love this guy. Enormously fat dude constantly eating a seemingly inexhaustible'd think Gluttony, right? Nah, that's Barbara Bacchus. Languo represents Sloth, and as soon as you hear him start talking, you get it immediately: he's a huge goddamn stoner. No wonder he's always eating and doesn't want to get up off the couch. Anyway, he's really pretty amiable, and his fantastically baked voice characterization makes him one of my favorite characters in the game.

Hey, how's it hangin'?

What, are you on guard duty or something?

Huh? Oh, I get it. Right, man, right. I'm keeping an eye on things. Used to be a holovision here, man, right where you're standing.

So you see a lot of what goes on around here, then? Maybe you could answer a few questions?

Go ahead, man, fire away. It's cool. I wasn't doing nothing anyway, just sitting around trying to think where I could get a still for Barbara.

A still?

Yeah, man, she likes to juice it a little bit, but I don't care. Makes her look kinda sexy, you know? So like, I thought, if she had her own still, man, she'd look, like, even more so, man. So that's what I wanna do, man, is get her a still. Put it right here next to the couch, we could talk.

Simmer down there a minute, Speedo. You gotta answer some questions. The way you're planted on that couch, I figure you know something about the comings and goings of this place. I figure you could tell us something about Brian Avery.

Huh? Oh yeah, Brian. I know about Brian. I mean, like, I know some THINGS about Brian, but I can't talk to you about him now, man. I got to scope out this still situation.

What? Look, do you even have any idea where to get a still?

No, man, that's the problem. I mean, like, I'd have to get up...and go do some hunting or something, I guess.

Look, if we get you a still, will you tell us about Brian?

You'll find me a still?

If you'll talk!

We're talking assembled, right? Like, ready to go?

Yes. YES!

Cripes, we better go find this thing before he asks us to throw in a sandwich machine.

Tank to Languo again
You got the still yet, man? No? Look, don't interrupt me, man, I'm thinking.

That door back in the corner takes us to Dolph's bedroom.

Dolph Van Ittey's Room: The meticulous condition of the place might make you think that Van Ittey is a neat fellow. The canopy bed might make you think he's somewhat prissy. Go with the canopy bed.

Dolph Van Ittey's Computer: Dolph Van Ittey's system is logged on.

Computer, eh?

Aw, crap. Um...


Oh, well. We'll get this password a little later.

Anyway, that's all we can do with the Deadly Seven for the moment, so let us take our leave and go visit the rest of the Clean Machine.

Clean Machine Clubhouse: Looking like some college lounge that's gone through a half-hearted effort to be turned into a reception office, this is where the Cleans hold their organizational meetings, meetings that invariably turn into little more than pep rallies to "get out there and do good".

Gracie Lovell (pink): This pleasant young woman is a welcome sight after the company you've been keeping lately.

Drip (left): Believe it or not, it's been said that people like Drip are going to inherit the earth.

Talk to Drip

Excuse me...


Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.

Oh, uh, no, it's all right. I've been a little jumpy lately.

Understandable, what with the murder and all.

The murder? Oh, right, I'd forgotten that! I was thinking more about this...phew...woman, with the Sevens. She's, uh, kinda been after me.

So what's so bad about that?

Gideon! I think I'll do the asking here. Who is it, kid?

It's...Electric Sex!

Cripes, you kids give yourselves kind of...hopeful names, don't you? Well, in any case, kid, you're on your own with that little problem. We wanted to ask you if you happened to know anything about that murder we mentioned.

Uh, no, I haven't really been around here much.

Get a grip, kid, don't let a woman tell you what to do. Just tell her what's what and...

Gideon, let's go.

Coming, dear! Good luck, kid.

Talk to Drip again
Settle down, kid. We're doing what we can. Your hormones aren't exactly at the top of our priority list.

Talk to Gracie Lovell

The Hand of God and the hand of friendship are always extended here, friends. Do you need a meal, a place to wash up, a bed to rest in? You two look as though you've spent too much time on these dirty streets.

Thanks for the offer, but we're not so bad off that we need a missionary. I know I'll be sorry for asking, but what's up with her and the other Cleans?

I'm not sure why Gideon asks about "her" out of the blue here. He's talking about Temperance Lector, who we haven't met yet. Maybe the writers assumed you'd talk to Temperance first, but that's a pretty weird assumption, given that Temperance is in the next room and most people will probably talk to everyone sequentially like we're doing.

She acts like she's the leader around here, and she treats the rest of us like we were soldiers in her army. Anyone gets out of line and wham, she's down hard on them. Take poor Drip, for instance. He's as kind and self-effacing as can be. He wouldn't hurt a living soul, and he doesn't ask anything for himself. You'd think that just this one time, Temperance would allow him a rare indulgence, but no! She has to ruin it.

Again, I know I'll be sorry, but what's she doing to the poor guy?

Well, Drip is so quiet and shy, he has an awful time with women. Somehow, and really, it's just the most unlikely match, but he and Electric Sex have become something of a...well, I think "item" is too strong a word, but, well, you know. But Temperance has threatened to reveal their affair if they try anything. Oh, you don't know Drip; he'd just shrivel up and die if anyone knew about him and Electric Sex. She's so flamboyant, so indecent,! If only there was someplace else for them to go, a room that wasn't in the Clean or Deadly brownstone. If someplace else was accessible to them, it would be easier on Drip and less likely that anyone would discover what they were doing.

That might work, but Temperance could still find them out.

I've thought about that too, and though it pains me to hurt anyone, we might be able to block Temperance from being so mean to Drip.

And I've no doubt that we fit into your plan somehow.

Well, yes, you do, actually. You see, I know her one weakness. There's a line of, well, smutty comic books published by a company named Erotix. I once accidentally discovered a cache of these comics in Temperance's room. If you bring her more comics, then I'll have some leverage over here, and she'll leave Drip and Electric Sex to go about their business.

That sounds like blackmail. Not a very "Clean" thing to do, is it?

Sometimes love demands we get a little dirty.

Talk to Gracie again
Drip can't wait forever. You've got to come up with some comics for Temperance. How hard can it be? You two look like you must have connections. Do something! Hurry!

Oh, dude. Never mind the investigation of Brian Avery; we must make it our holy mission to get Poindexter not only laid, but super-laid with the local incarnation of Lust. We'll want to see who's in the meeting room first, though. Hang in there, Drip!

Clean Machine Meeting Room: The inner sanctum of the Cleans, this is where they spend most of their time together, listening to music and holding all-night heart-to-hearts about how to change the world and uphold the dictums of the Imperator.

Phrackie (left): She's that person in the office who's there when you come in and there when you go, yet always seems rested, relaxed, and on top of things. In clean clothes, too.

Stefan Benevolus (middle): Looks like an off-duty priest from the barrio, but acts more like he's an on-duty minister in a suburb of well-adjusted rich folks: a beatific demeanor with a beatnik exterior.

Temperance Lector (right): A young, impeccably neat and well-mannered woman examines a group of pamphlets and fliers espousing the Hand's edicts.

Talk to Stefan Benevolus

You look a little, well, aghast at things here. I understand. The situation must seem odd to you, the way we live in such close proximity to our rivals. It's very Zen, really. See, the Deadlies and the Cleans need each other; it's like yin and yang.

Geez, Rach, I guess that guy was what you call a liberal, huh? None of these people bother him!

Stefan Benevolus is the only member of the Clean Machine or Deadly Seven who has absolutely no relation to any puzzle or quest flag. He's just kind of there, presumably for flavor and gang-balance.

Talk to Temperance Lector

The Hand's message is one of discipline and self-correction. We must purify ourselves of weakness and sin, and resist the seduction of technology, the urge to elevate the mechanical over the human. Only then can we serve the state and God.

Ram it, sister. We played by the Hand's rules long enough. Try evangelizing us and I'll bust you one in the jaw.

I shall not be baited by an unbeliever! Solene Solux's divine power is evident in his mastery over the gates of hell. I need look no further than across the street to witness the wages of sin. The Deadly Seven flaunt ther irrestraint and think they can sin with impunity, but they will pay for their iniquity!

Listen, Lector. Not that we really give a damn whether you and the Deadlies blow each other up, but how about cutting Drip and, uh, Electric Sex a break? What possible harm can a little affection cause?

Electric Sex is as sinful as her name implies. She and the Deadlies will convert to the Hand's doctrines, or face the just anger of Solene Solux's followers!

No chance of your easing up, just this once?

There is nothing on this planet that can shake my adherence to the values that are at the core of my beliefs. Nothing!

Talk to Lector again
Do not attempt to persuade me of the merits of Electric Sex and Drip's liaison. Sin and evil cannot be masked by well-phrased argument.

Talk to Phrackie

Phrackie's supposed to represent Diligence, I think.

Something I can help you with? I'm pretty involved in something here. I...

Funny you put it that way. We wanted to ask you about something else you were pretty involved in. Guy named Brian Avery.

Brian and I are a thing of the past. Our romance...well, it just wasn't an efficient use of my time.

With all the attention, maybe he killed himself.

Can it, Cynna. Not everyone is responsible for their own death.

You're a riot, Rachel. I hope you're taking notes. Put too much pressure on a man, and you could lose him.

C'mon, you two.

Look, was there anything else about Brian? Did any of his gun running ever bring him into direct contact with the Hand?

Honest, I really wouldn't know. Why don't you go bribe some Transgressions officials or something? That might be a better use of your time.

Let's see...that would take some money, I believe, and we lost our jobs recently.

Well, why didn't you say so? I could help you with that. As part of our battle against evil, I've been figuring out some ways to deplete the coffers of our enemies, the Deadlies. I think I've found a way to jack into Dick Covett's bank account. He's somebody who could really learn a lot from impoverishment. I'd just have to run a RAP on his bank account...

"Run a RAP"?

Yes! Don't you know what "RAP" means?

Uh, yeah, sure. It was some kind of poetry about, uh, a thousand years ago or something.

Not exactly. In this case it means "Rapid Assessment Program".

Yeah, right, whatever.

So, you interested?

Granted, Covett is kind of a dick, but this seems kind of unwarranted.

So the ethical thing would be to decline. I have no idea what that FINIS is about.

Maybe some other time. We could really use the dough, but our first priority is to get info on Avery. Thanks anyway.

Talk to Phrackie again
Oh, my, you're back, but I'm right in the middle of to type up the new Hand pledge, then...oh, what the heck. This Covett thing's got to be done. You really want me to do it?

On the other hand, we need some money for Dr. Clean's lockpick, and there's no other way to get it. As far as I know, the only other way to make money in Hell is by placing bets with Laura Prophet, and she won't let you that until you have Covett's money in the first place, so...e-larceny it is!

Yup. We're having trouble getting anything done without some green to paint the way.

OK, then, let's give Covett's bank account a spank and see if it hollers.

Holy cow, you did it!

Well, I couldn't quite get it all...only about a hundred thousand dollars. Some of it seems to have been seized by the bank's computers when they realized the account was being emptied; they've got a vigilance program that's practically an AI. He must have had some loans or something they were afraid he was skipping out on. Either way, though, he's cleaned out, that's for sure.

Thanks, Phrackie, and don't worry. Somebody better than Brian will come along someday, somebody who'll appreciate your hard work.

All right, then. We're going to need a still for Languo, porn for Temperance, a hideout for Drip and Sex, and the password to Dolph's next time on IPAT: Hell, fetch questing!


The Languo conversation (Local Backup)

Holy crap! Hell: A Cyberpunk Thriller: A Novel! I don't read much sci-fi, but it seemed pretty OK to me, at least as video game adaptations go. The author obviously has a lot of fun with the demons; Mr. Beautiful is particularly Mafia'd up, and Sanguinarius lays on the Army talk with a trowel. I'm mostly just amazed this exists.