SITUATION OF THE WEEK Situation of the Week #1 - Student Life

[Nefadar]

I first came across this on a Hungarian RP forum, then on the Medieval, the Situation Game was quite successful and popular. So I thought I would bring this to here too. The "Situation of the Week" is about giving the characters a bigger role and character development, deepening their character through situations that would probably not happen during the threads.

For this very reason, a new situation/prompt will be given every week, for which you can write a post of any length. Typically, I will try to give real (not alternate) situations, but sometimes I will give you What if or other alternative prompts. The situations will be mixed between funnier and more serious, so that everyone can find what suits them best.

And as a reward, you will receive a bling every week if you post in situation games. I'd like to mention again that this is not a Posting Game where you have to answer the prompt in one word, but you have to write a whole post in this thread.

As we are already near to the school's end (ok, not entirely...), and there are a lot of young character on the site, so this week's prompt will be "Student Life". Even if the characters didn't go to school, they learned from educators, parents, trainers, in their culture etc. they must have learned something in their lifetime. But I also don't want this to be an unpleasant topic, so this week's situation will be a bit funnier.

prompt of the week

What was your character's funniest or most unpleasant memory/experience related to their studies? Perhaps you can be mentioned in what way this influenced the further lives and studies of the characters?

It can be any memory/experience, pleasant, unpleasant, horror story, or just comedy and funny. The point is that writing should be fun for you and do not feel like it is work. That's why there is no post word limit here, feel free to write as much as you want about it. And if someone has more ideas, you can write more situations or with multiple characters. I look forward to reading these posts.

Posts can be memories/reminiscences, dreams, visions, diary entries, recordings, or even the character is telling someone, etc. It's up to you to decide what you are most comfortable with.

The weekly smaller header, if anyone wants to use it:

If anyone has any questions about this, or if you have any ideas about what topics could be, feel free to ask or share your thoughts here in the feedback category or on discord.

 

[Cassus Akovin]

As Cassus gleefully plucked the semi-gold neurosheath wire from the off-brand Arasaka spinal reflex package connecting his patient to his basal brain stem interface, which was rate-limiting their hand-eye coordination due to an overdue subscription, a thought crossed his mind about how he ended up so deep in the work of a Ripperdoc. Obviously, from an academic standpoint, his mother was all the knowledge he would need to become a top earner among any of the top corporate clientele, but somehow, he felt that even if his life had been "optimal," he would have been deeply empty. Creating and installing cybernetics was certainly profitable and by all accounts a productive activity in the common parlance of self-worth in Night City... but that is not what Cassus enjoyed.

"Feel that?" Cassus whispered through his mask to his patron, "Of course not." A little holographic sprite of a devil sputtered in laughter over his shoulder. Cassus could see a bead of sweat fall down their temple.

"Quite vulnerable position you are in, comrade. Good thing you trust in 'fiduciary responsibility to continuous growth' or else reputation as Red Hand would have bloodier connotation, dah?" Carefully, an atomic laser from his Exoglove vaporized protective biogel between steel vertebrae. At the same time, the implements on his fingers secured themselves with magnetized wire forceps, extracting the protective spinal guard from the computation blackbox with stringy tissue fluid clinging to the implant component.

"Unlike corporations, who kill you little ways a thousand times forever," Very abruptly, despite both of the Ripperdocs hands occupied in holding very components of a man's spine, something lodge itself into the cavity left behind, connecting itself to that illusive internal mechanism which seemed to have cursed the patients' reflexes. Currently paralyzed, and with the Red Hand completely behind his field of vision, he had no means to see that Cassus now used his third hand. "I would kill you one way, very quickly. Painlessly, without thought. Is it not kinder, American?"

From the patient's peripheral vision, he saw that critical component that once commanded his entire range of motion. Some crimson metallic mechanism appeared to crush and shred it into pieces, sending sparks and smoke into the air as it disintegrated to the ground. Then, for the first time in several minutes, he felt something again as something new was implanted.

"Forgive me, I forget myself. Night City people avoid such label. Not untrue, though; by root and blood, we all come from places we do not always find pride in. Nonetheless, thank you for being my captive today; your hardware was pleasurable to destroy." Rapidly, in almost a complete reversal of his early care and tender, the Ripperdoc reassembled the components of the man's spine and sutured the gaps by atomic laser and biogel sprays almost simultaneously as he reconnected the neurosheathe as the last step before closing the wound with aerosol synthflesh. His patient shot out of the chair, feeling his pulse and movement moving faster now than it had in months.

"Fuck man you're crazy!"

"Would you rather be dead than red, comrade?" Cassus cocked his head to the side, smiling behind his mask with amusement.

---

As Cassus laid down across the lounge couch behind the DJ, strumming the various electric tunes hitting the Darkwire Listeners in their silent rave. With his mask down in this more private space, he had his headphones up and meditated on the beats. He thought of home, in New York, jamming out in his mother's workshop. She had brought some work home this time, a rare occurrence considering the nature of who she worked for and what she worked on. Whatever she discarded, he got dibs on. He would need to submit it for return afterwards, but he was tempted many times to misplace a particularly tough component he could crack open to inspect.

His mother caught on to this and always managed to find a way to get back before she left in the morning. He deeply missed that game, to hold something of hers, to break it open and understand it. That was why he learned this trade, why he broke what he could find.

Finding some piece of her left behind in the shapes of their work.