Anarchy is Dead
Inadvertent Simstar Sensation
“Welcome to Soybucks, what can I get for you?”
Lane is the elf next door, which makes him something of an aberration to the general metatype, whose standouts tend to be of the more glamorous, head-turning specimens. He is affable, kind, generous, and almost nauseatingly upbeat.
And if he hadn’t accidented his way into the upper echelons of the underground Simsense BTL scene, he’d likely be a stain by now, as his streetmeat demeanor tends to decrease survivability in the Sixth World.
Lane was once your normal wage slave, working day to day for the corps, serving up hot soycaffes by the dozens, before heading home to his modest apartment and killing some time watching trids or browsing gossip sites on the Matrix.
But then one day, by pure anarchic happenstance, he ran afoul of the Scatterbrains, a gang who existed mainly to foster confusion, dissent, and annoyance (in addition to a modest bodycount, mainly for rep purposes). Instead of killing him (like the Halloweeners would) or selling him for parts (like the Organ Leggers would) or simply eating him (like the Ghouls would), the Scatterbrains took down his SIN, fitted him with a Simsense recorder, and told him to go live his life: they’d be in touch.
The elation of still breathing, coupled with Lane’s natural emotional buoyancy, elevated his natural charisma to astounding levels. He was more affable, friendlier, kinder. His customers arrived at his Soybucks grumpy and left…well, less grumpy. Some even smiled. After a few days, Lane almost forgot his encounter.
But then, just around closing time, an ork came to visit. She introduced herself as Gidget, muscled him into the back room of the store, jacked into his simsense recorder, and downloaded all those wonderful hours into BTL chips.
The Scatterbrains’ big plan was to release these chips as the new “HARDEST, EDGIEST, RAUNCHIEST, DIRTIEST, PORN BTLs YOU NEVER KNEW YOU WANTED INSIDE YOU” or HERD Porn BTLS for short. Chipheads would slot in expecting depraved divas desperately devouring dwarven…dudemeat, and instead have a chill, decent-looking elf guy serve up soy lattes to the public.
They sold out their initial stock entirely, but didn’t expect the repeat customers to come boiling back en masse. There was something about Lane, and it was a goddamn nuyen factory.
These days, Lane’s interactions with the public are heavily monitored, both by gangers and local Lone Star beat cops on the take. Everyone is encouraged to smile at Lane. Street vendors give him free samples. Attractive women (and men) as well as some…unconventionally attractive patrons give him their contact IDs. Anyone who breaks from established protocol gets broken in turn, and the “Lane BTL Series” has reached the point where copycats are now coming up with their own takes on the formula.
Truly a rags-to-riches tale for the ages.