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Diálogo·Misiones

High Score 3

dialogues/quests/high_score/high_score_3.dialogue

Personajes

Misiones

~ start 58d4556c…

si misión aceptada
si requisitos cumplidos

The board cycles dark lines, top to bottom. Whatever the machine was keeping, it isn't keeping it anymore.

The card is in your pack. Azra can read a mag stripe.

fin
si no

The locker stands open. The card is not in your pack.

Search the locker againdevuelve objetos de misión perdidos

Wedged behind the tray runner - a corner of yellowed card stock. The same card, or one exactly like it.

You take it, more carefully this time.

fin
si no

One locker in the bank is still shut. On its door, a brass tag: S.E.R. - the three letters burning at the top of the board.

The lock is jammed for good. The hinge gave up rusting years ago.

sobre la misión High Score (Part 3)
si misión aceptada

quest: accepted

The hinge shears. Inside: a jacket folded stiff with age, keys to something that no longer exists, and a registration card sitting in a steel tray.

You take the Champion's Card.

Behind you, the board's hum changes pitch.

When you turn, the top line is dark. The score is gone - no letters, no number, nothing left to say anyone ever played.

Azra metered this building for nine nights. He'll want to know what you just switched off.

fin
si no

quest: declined

The locker keeps what it has kept this long.

fin
termina la conversación

~ start Azra

si misión aceptada y requisitos cumplidos

Azra takes the card by its edges, the way he handles anything older than himself. Front, back, a thumbnail down the mag stripe.

Membership card. Personal. Scan date, October '88. And a box here, ticked: RETAIN COPY FOR TOURNAMENT PLAY.

That's what the pods were. You stood in one and it read you - build, reflexes, gear, the whole person in one long exposure. From then on, the copy did the fighting. League nights, on the network, town against town.

Lose every match on your card and walk home without a scratch. That was the product.

He looks up, toward the building.

S.E.R. registered in October. The war beat the season's end. Their copy has been up on that board ever since, playing to an empty room-

It went dark when I took the card.

He's quiet for exactly as long as it takes to hear that twice.

The card was the registration. Pull the card, void the member. The matches, the score, whoever they were...

His thumb stops on the stripe.

We didn't take a record out of that building. We took its last copy.

Did we just end someone?

The old shamans would say a pod keeps a splinter of whoever stands in it. I say it was data. A recording that played itself very, very well.

Ask me again tonight. You might get the other answer.

He slides the card into a sleeve and labels it in block letters: S.E.R. - REGISTERED OCT '88. LAST MATCH: TODAY.

The stripe will give up a name, and the name goes in the archive. Everything else in that place has died twice now - once with the war, once with us. The name I can keep.

completa la misión
And the board?

Open. For the first time since the war, there's room at the top.

The dead built a machine where nobody bleeds and nothing is lost - then locked the door and lost everything. It's ours now.

Register. Your copy fights, you watch, you walk home whole. Go give that board something to count.

Now you can enter the Virtual Arena and sync your character to start PVP arena fights.

fin
si no, si misión aceptada

The card. From the locker.

A give-it-here gesture, without looking up.

Bring it to me before the desert eats it.

fin
si no

Azra is elbow-deep in the guts of something with valves. Whatever you want, it isn't reaching him.

fin
termina la conversación
Código fuente del diálogo
~ start 58d4556c-b6f2-4999-9036-4d9f78487b9e
if is_quest_accepted
	if are_quest_requirements_met
		Narrator: *The board cycles dark lines, top to bottom. Whatever the machine was keeping, it isn't keeping it anymore.* [#end]
			*The card is in your pack. Azra can read a mag stripe.*
	else
		Narrator: *The locker stands open. The card is not in your pack.*
		- Search the locker again [#get_lost_quest_items]
			Narrator: *Wedged behind the tray runner - a corner of yellowed card stock. The same card, or one exactly like it.* [#end]
				*You take it, more carefully this time.*
else
	Narrator: *One locker in the bank is still shut. On its door, a brass tag: S.E.R. - the three letters burning at the top of the board.*
		*The lock is jammed for good. The hinge gave up rusting years ago.*
	Narrator: [#quest_info=f2ad1747-e185-4e7f-9529-464d1765ab07]
	if is_quest_accepted:
		Narrator: [quest: accepted]
			*The hinge shears. Inside: a jacket folded stiff with age, keys to something that no longer exists, and a registration card sitting in a steel tray.*
			*You take the [Champion's Card].*
		Narrator: *Behind you, the board's hum changes pitch.* [#end]
			*When you turn, the top line is dark. The score is gone - no letters, no number, nothing left to say anyone ever played.*
			*Azra metered this building for nine nights. He'll want to know what you just switched off.*
	else:
		Narrator: [quest: declined] [#end]
			*The locker keeps what it has kept this long.*
=> END

~ start c9479f7c-0c2a-4f58-abd1-660cdbcfe25b
if is_quest_accepted and are_quest_requirements_met
	Azra: *Azra takes the card by its edges, the way he handles anything older than himself. Front, back, a thumbnail down the mag stripe.*
		Membership card. Personal. Scan date, October '88. And a box here, ticked: RETAIN COPY FOR TOURNAMENT PLAY.
	Azra: That's what the pods were. You stood in one and it read you - build, reflexes, gear, the whole person in one long exposure. From then on, the copy did the fighting. League nights, on the network, town against town.
		Lose every match on your card and walk home without a scratch. That was the product.
	Azra: *He looks up, toward the building.*
		S.E.R. registered in October. The war beat the season's end. Their copy has been up on that board ever since, playing to an empty room-
	- It went dark when I took the card.
		Azra: *He's quiet for exactly as long as it takes to hear that twice.*
			The card was the registration. Pull the card, void the member. The matches, the score, whoever they were...
			*His thumb stops on the stripe.*
			We didn't take a record out of that building. We took its last copy.
		- Did we just end someone?
			Azra: The old shamans would say a pod keeps a splinter of whoever stands in it. I say it was data. A recording that played itself very, very well.
				Ask me again tonight. You might get the other answer.
			Azra: *He slides the card into a sleeve and labels it in block letters: S.E.R. - REGISTERED OCT '88. LAST MATCH: TODAY.* [#complete_quest]
				The stripe will give up a name, and the name goes in the archive. Everything else in that place has died twice now - once with the war, once with us. The name I can keep.
			- And the board?
				Azra: Open. For the first time since the war, there's room at the top. [#end]
					The dead built a machine where nobody bleeds and nothing is lost - then locked the door and lost everything. It's ours now.
					Register. Your copy fights, you watch, you walk home whole. Go give that board something to count.
					*Now you can enter the Virtual Arena and sync your character to start PVP arena fights.*
elif is_quest_accepted
	Azra: The card. From the locker. [#end]
		*A give-it-here gesture, without looking up.*
		Bring it to me before the desert eats it.
else
	Azra: *Azra is elbow-deep in the guts of something with valves. Whatever you want, it isn't reaching him.* [#end]
=> END