Shadowrun: Seattle MUSH
- Background: Here we give a brief, one paragraph summary of the background of the game.
- Connecting address:
- Head wizard:
- Ambassador on Gateway: We use the name from Gateway.
- Genre & Theme:
- Contact e-mail address: Put the email address in, such as <email>firstname.lastname@example.org</email>.
- Location: The location of the game.
- Code base: Do they use PennMUSH? Mux?
In our own words
Here is where the ad for the game goes.
Magic meets machine in 2064, a futuristic world where Orks, Elves, and Troll walk among us - casting off their Human guises. Insidous corporations have replacedthe corrupt governments in the balance of power, and the heroes are the nameless souls who are only known by the title 'Shadowrunner'. Be a deadly Street Samauri, a net-running Decker, a mysterious hermetic mage, or a wisened shaman. You also have the option to play any of the other major players in the Shadowrun universe, such as Mafia, Yakuza, Rocker, Reporter, Ganger, Street Doc, and many other possibilities.
Shadowrun Seattle has a sophisticated 'Matrix' system allowing Deckers to explore a seemingly endless array of information hoarding systems. We also have an advanced Magic System allowing mages and shamans the ability to explore the higher mysteries of Astral Space and beyond.
....Your display link is nice enough to tell you its 2:58pm, as if you wanted to know that. Your head is buzzing, it takes about 10 seconds to realize it isn't due to the alcohol or the poor choice of ork hookers but it's the cyberphone. You answer it with as little as a mental command, but the words coming out of it are fast and jumbled, that's the alcohol. You hang up before he finishes and open your eyes. The stained faded walls of the coffin motel surprise you as you try to remember who you took into it last night. You try to pull some of your armor back on, and see the familiar glint of your heavy pistol which at least makes you feel a little better. It's then you notice your credstick has gone missing, and the faint smell of the knockout drug of choice... It's then the words that came from your sub dermal speakers finally come together... It was your fixer, he was pissed... About... about... Oh yeah... that pasta-muncher you geek'd the other week, turns out he was 'made' and your Asian chica with the tight thighs that hired you so easily was Yakuza, and everyone knows. You kick out the extra credstick from your boot; the pitiful display says 200 nY. You figure now would be a good time to live another's life and a mental command dials up your Decker pal for a new SIN... But there is no answer... There is a loud buzz on the green light above the coffin door, it opens suddenly and you slide out on to your hoop.. directly in front of the largest pair of boots you've ever seen, not to mention the thirteen foot rat shaman troll you pissed off last week within them... and you know, you just know... as the cold handle of your Predator slips into your hand that it's gotta be... that Shadowrun.
Contact Melkir for more info.