The Handbasket Ride - Episode 1
A solo Electric State RPG actual play report
Content warning: Strong Language
Tuesday, October 15th, 1996. 4:02pm
Starting Chaos Factor: 5
Fuck, I hate the Primm border crossing, Aside from Primm being an absolute shithole these days, the border crossing - being on the main highway from Vegas to LA - makes everyone jumpy. And a jumpy border guard or drone pilot usually means they have an itchy trigger finger. That can mean bad news.
Normally, I'd pick a different crossing, even if it means going out of my way, but the recent tensions between Pacifica and Blackwelt means they've closed all the others off for the time being, and are forcing everyone through this dive.
Which is how I find myself in the queue waiting to cross the border. I've got to get to Santa Barbara as soon as possible. My story - and I'm sticking to it - is that an old college friend has invited me for a reunion with some of the other old students, and I'll be able to do a bit of drone gaming in my spare time. Which is why old Wally is in the back of the pickup. Truth is, I hate piloting the damn thing, but it's a neat bit of cover sometimes.
Are there many armed guards manning the border crossing? Very Likely - 23 - Yes.
Are they all overly twitchy and suspicious? Likely - 16 - Yes
There's more guards than usual on the gate this afternoon, and they're all armed. There's one of those old drone walkers on the Pacifica side of the border, too. Armed with miniguns and God knows what else. Whoever's piloting the thing must be jumped up on something, as it's pacing back and forth, with its weapons trained on whatever car is going through the checkpoint.
I've been through here enough times in the past to know the pack drill. Keep your hands where the guards can see them. Declare everything. Don't give the guards any crap. Have the handgun in plain view in an open shallow box on the dash, disassembled to show that it's currently safe. It's all a pain in the ass, and mostly theatre, but when they're jumpy like this, it's best not to piss them off.
Does the car in front pass through the checkpoint safely? 50/50 - 34 - yes
The old Toyota hatchback in front of me is next, and is waved forward to the checkpoint. A soldier with a clipboard approaches the driver's window, one hand on their pistol holster. After a couple of minutes of questioning, the soldier waves a couple of others over, and they pop the hatch and have a quick rummage around in the back. Whatever they were looking for, they don't find anything, and close the hatch back down again. The guy with the clipboard takes the driver's passport over to a desk, stamps it, before returning it. The Toyota carefully pulls away.
The guard with the clipboard waits until the hatchback is clear of the checkpoint on the Pacifica side before waving me forward. So I take a deep breath and move up the checkpoint. Apply the handbrake and turn off the engine, before putting both hands back on the wheel.
The guy with the clipboard - who's name tag reads "Velasquez" and has Corporal stripes on his sleeves - steps up the driver's door and looks me over.
"Passport."
I reach onto the dash to pick it up and hand it over to him. He flips it open, and carefully reads all the details, then carefully looks me up and down.
"What is the purpose of your visit to Pacifica, Mr O'Sulllivan?"
"Visiting some old college friends in Santa Barbara, sir. And maybe some drone gaming."
"And how long are you planning on staying in Pacifica for?"
"Probably only a week, maybe two. Depends on whether I still get on with my old college buddies or not."
Wits check, to see how well Eamon handles the stress and tension at the checkpoint.
Five dice: 1, 2, 3, 5, 6. One Success.
Velasquez nods and makes a note on his clipboard. "Do you have anything to declare?"
"Yes, sir," I respond. "I have the Beretta in the dash in the box, and I have my gaming drone in the back of the truck."
Velasquez gestures to a soldier on the other side of my truck, and she approaches the Bronco, with her rifle's barrel never pointing away. She takes a look at the pistol, and shouts, "Clear!".
Velasquez nods, and makes another notation on his clipboard. "Do you have a permit for the weapon?"
"Yes, sir. It should be in the correct place in the passport."
Velasquez flips through my passport until he finds my carry permit. He copies the permit number onto his form, then takes a step towards the back of the truck. He peers into the side windows, and then gestures to two soldiers who come over and flip open the back window.
One of them gives a slight whistle of appreciation when he sees the old gaming drone in the back. "Check this out!" he says to his partner. The other one sticks his head into the back of the truck. "An old Wally Wayne! Nice! Haven't seen one of those for a while!"
Velasquez scowls at them and shouts "Atten-hut!". The two soldiers snap to attention, their weapons in the present arms position.
"We do not have time to lolly-gag around gentlemen! Finish your inspection, then step away from the vehicle!"
"Yes, Corporal!" they both shout in unison, then quickly rummage around in the back of the truck. "Clear!" one of them shouts, before they slam the tail gate shut and step back to their usual guard positions.
Velasquez takes a slow walk around my truck, checking out all the dings and scratches. He pauses on the passenger side to peer into the backseat, then continues around to the front of the truck again. I don't know what he's looking for, but I keep my eyes mostly to the front, rather than staring at him.
He comes around to the driver's window again. "What is your proposed route to Santa Barbara, Mr O'Sullivan?"
I scratch the stubble on my chin absent mindedly with one hand. "Well, I had planned on heading down the interstate until I hit Barstow, then head west across to Mojave, before heading southwest to Santa Barbara."
Does Velasquez offer a different suggestion? 50/50 - 98 - Exceptional No.
Velasquez nods subtly. "A good choice. I'd avoid LA too, if I were driving."
He walks over to his table, stamps my passport, then returns to my truck to hand it over.
"Very well, Mr O'Sullivan. Your visit is approved. Please exit the checkpoint slowly, and do not reassemble your weapon until you are at least one mile down the road."
"Thank you, sir," I say as he steps back to his desk, and pushes a button to raise the boom gate. I start up my truck, and slowly pull forward back onto the interstate on the other side. The drone's sensors and weapons track my truck briefly, until I start to accelerate away and then they turn back to the car that was in the line behind me.
I've crossed the border, safely. That's all that matters at this point.
I drive two miles down the road for good measure, then pull off to the shoulder and quickly reassemble my Beretta. I hate having that thing unavailable all the time, but it's safer to play the game at the crossing. I can't help Kate, if I'd been arrested by Velasquez and his goons, or worse still - shot full of holes by a bored drone pilot.
Better get my ass into gear. It's now nearly 5pm, and there's over one hundred miles of highway and empty desert between here and Barstow.
End of Scene Bookkeeping
Everything went fairly smoothly for Eamon in the scene, so dropping the Chaos Factor to 4.
The Pacifica Military featured fairly heavily in the scene, so adding them to the Character List for a second time.
End of Episode Notes
Nothing particularly special in this scene. I mainly just wanted to start finding Eamon’s voice and depict the border tension between the two nations.
For the record, while Eamon might be an American, I’m an Australian. I’ve tried to use American terminology where I can, but I’m using Australian English spelling. In case you were wondering.
Great start!