TEXT: CONDENSED CONTENTS
  Introduction / Expanded contents  2
  1. New MBDs (Eric Minton) 
  3
  2. The roller coaster(Allen Varney) 16
  3. Real estate (Bill O’Dea) 
  24
  4. Happy Fun Job Placement Center
  (Steve Gilbert) 
  28
  5. EAP clubs
  (Gareth Hanrahan) 
  33
  Insecurity clearances 
  ORANGE 
  39
  YELLOW 
  50
  GREEN 
  59
  BLUE 
  70
  INDIGO 
  107
  VIOLET 
  118
  Appendix: AlphaNet (Bill O’Dea) 128
  STEVE GILBERT
  JEFF GROVES
  GARETH HANRAHAN
  GREG INGBER
  DAN CURTIS JOHNSON
  KARL LOW
  ERIC MINTON
  JOSHUA MORETTO
  BILL O’DEA
  ALLEN VARNEY
  Design
  KEN ROLSTON
  Wrote the original HIL Sector Blues 
  (1987), rehashed in this book
  BETH FISCHI
  ALLEN VARNEY
  Editing, layout
  JIM HOLLOWAY
  Cover and interior illustrations
  TM & Copyright © 1983, 1987, 2005 by Eric Goldberg & Greg Costikyan. All Rights Reserved. Mongoose Publishing Ltd., Authorized User. Based on material published in 
  previous editions of PARANOIA.
  ILLUMINATI is a registered trademark of Steve Jackson Games, and is used by permission.
  The reproduction of material from this book for personal or corporate proﬁ t, by photographic, electronic, or other means of storage and retrieval, is prohibited. You may 
  copy character sheets, record sheets, checklists and tables for personal use.
  E-mail questions and comments to Mongoose Publishing at sales@mongoosepublishing.com, or write to PO Box 1018, Swindon, Wiltshire SN3 1DG, UNITED KINGDOM. 
  On the World Wide Web: www.mongoosepublishing.com.
  Published by Mongoose Publishing, Ltd. Publication MGP 6638. Published August 2005. First printing August 2005.
  ANDY ‘JAZZER’ FITZPATRICK
  Graphics
  JOHN SPANN
  Emergency Response Typist
  RON BEDISON
  Proofreading
  DAN GELBER
  GREG COSTIKYAN
  ERIC GOLDBERG
  Original game design & development
  IAN BELCHER
  Mongoose Publishing roleplaying 
  manager
  ALEXANDER FENNELL
  Mongoose Publishing production director
  THE COMPUTER
  ‘Extreme’ doesn’t begin to describe it
  PARANOIA
  Now, at all clearances from ORANGE through VIOLET, players can experience the same gnawing anxiety!
  ™
  Extreme PARANOIA
  BY THE TRAITOR RECYCLING STUDIO (www.traitorrecycling.com)
  Security Clearance ULTRAVIOLET
  WARNING:
  Knowledge or possession of this information by any citizen 
  of Security Clearance VIOLET or below is treason punishable by 
  some grisly fate we’ll determine later, when we get around to it.
  
  Famous Game Designers talk about a roleplaying game’s 
  core story—a summary of a stereotypical play session of 
  that game.
  For instance, the ‘core story’ of the leading (non-fun) fantasy 
  RPG: ‘A party of adventurers assembles to seek fame and 
  fortune. They leave civilization for a location of extreme 
  danger. They ﬁ ght monsters, overcome obstacles and 
  acquire new abilities and items of power. Afterward they 
  return to civilization and sell the loot. Next week, they do it 
  all over again.’
  The core story of any comic-book superhero RPG: ‘The 
  characters, a team of superheroes, learn of a plot that puts 
  them or innocent people in danger. They use their special 
  powers to defeat the villain or agency responsible for the 
  plot. The heroes then return to their secret lives as normal 
  people, waiting to be alerted to the next crisis.’
  Everyone knows, or thinks he knows, the core story of 
  PARANOIA: ‘Lowly RED Clearance Troubleshooters seek and 
  destroy traitors. They struggle with all-pervading secrecy, 
  lethal equipment they’re not cleared to know how to operate, 
  ofﬁ cious bureaucrats who outrank them, better-equipped 
  enemies and the occasional crazed scrubot. They all die 
  multiple times before the ﬁ nal hose-job debrieﬁ ng.’
  This supplement proves none of that is essential to 
  PARANOIA’s core story. (Well, yes, the multiple deaths....) 
  Unlike these non-fun RPGs, the psychological exercise that 
  is PARANOIA focuses not on characters or setting, but on the 
  players, sitting around your table with their character sheets 
  and munchies. The real core story:
  ‘PARANOIA players, pretending to be various characters in 
  Alpha Complex, experience comedic fear, ignorance, tense 
  suspicion that other players will soon betray them and the 
  overwhelming urge to betray others ﬁ rst.’
  Welcome to Extreme PARANOIA.
  We actually have a lot more to say, but it won’t ﬁ t on this 
  page. To keep pontiﬁ cating, we’ve stolen the ﬁ rst part of the 
  Chapter 1 introduction on the facing page. We’ll lick this 
  whole layout issue one of these days....
  EXPANDED CONTENTS
  Introduction  
  2
  1. New MBDs 
  3
  Advertising & branding ofﬁ cer 4
  Agent provocateur 
  6
  Alertness ofﬁ cer 
  8
  Financial ofﬁ cer 
  10
  Medical ofﬁ cer 
  12
  Public relations guy 
  14
  2. The roller coaster:  
  Rising (and falling) in clearance 
  16
  Creating high-clearance PCs 22
  About Access 
  23
  3. Real estate 
  24
  4. Job Placement Center 
  28
  5. EAP clubs 
  33
  Insecurity clearances 
  ORANGE 
  39
  IntSec dossier  
  40
  Mission dispatchers  
  41
  Secret society life  
  41
  ORANGE oppotunities 
  42
  Vidshow stars 
  43
  YELLOW 
  50
  IntSec dossier  
  51
  Internal Affairs agents 
  52
  Secret society life  
  53
  YELLOW yummies 
  54
  Asst. retail sales managers 55
  GREEN 
  59
  IntSec dossier  
  60
  Civic Pride Detail 
  61
  Secret society life  
  61
  GREEN goodies 
  62
  EDR Teams 
  63
  BLUE 
  70
  IntSec dossier  
  71
  Outdoors Duty 
  72
  Secret society life  
  72
  BLUE bonuses 
  73
  IntSec BLUE Troopers 
  (‘HIL Sector Blues’)  
  74
  INDIGO 
  107
  IntSec dossier  
  108
  INDIGO improvements 
  109
  Secret agents 
  110
  Secret society life  
  110
  R&D mad scientists  
  114
  VIOLET 
  118
  IntSec dossier  
  119
  Personal assistants  
  120
  VIOLET variety 
  121
  Secret society life  
  122
  Executives 
  122
  VIOLETs: The UV view 
  127
  Appendix: AlphaNet 
  128
  EXTREME Introduction
  
  3
  1. NEW MBDS
  INTRODUCTION
  Opening out the game
  The original PARANOIA rulebook let your 
  players create and play Troubleshooters of RED 
  Clearance, just one step above the faceless 
  INFRARED masses of Alpha Complex. Now, 
  Extreme PARANOIA lets players create and 
  play characters across the security clearance 
  spectrum, from unimpressive ORANGE (one 
  step above RED) to powerful VIOLET.
  Troubleshooters at these higher clearances 
  can become mission dispatchers or Internal 
  Affairs investigators—undertake Civic Pride 
  Duty or Outdoors Duty—infiltrate secret 
  societies—eventually even become personal 
  assistants to the most illustrious and powerful 
  psychopaths in Alpha Complex. And now 
  there’s plenty more to do than just shoot trouble. 
  Characters can become actors in vidshow 
  dramas, Emergency Disaster Response Team 
  celebrities, VIOLET executives and—yes, at 
  last—assistant sales managers. And we’ve 
  resurrected and updated Ken Rolston’s 1987 
  supplement for ﬁ rst-edition PARANOIA, HIL 
  Sector Blues, to once more let players become 
  Internal Security BLUE Troopers.
  All these new (or recycled) ways to play 
  show PARANOIA’s versatility. More than a 
  game of hysterical Zap-style mayhem, it is 
  the roleplaying ﬁ eld’s deﬁ ning embodiment of 
  paranoid tension. It works well for single game 
  sessions, miniseries and now, with the material 
  in this book, extended campaigns. Over their 
  characters’ lengthy and varied careers, players 
  will experience new fears and new kinds of 
  ignorance, including some kinds otherwise 
  unknown in gaming.
  But through it all, the core story holds. The 
  players’ greatest enemy remains the same: 
  themselves.
  Perfection is a magical point where the 
  players have stopped looking at their characters 
  and saying ‘Haha, this is messed up’. Instead, 
  they’re looking at you and saying, ‘How could 
  you let us do this to ourselves?’ They thought 
  their eyes were wide open; they knew the 
  PARANOIA routine; but somehow they still 
  feel betrayed—extra-special betrayed—darkly, 
  humorously betrayed.
  Yet who can they really blame but 
  themselves? Oh, that’s right—they can blame 
  each other.
  New MBDs (ﬁ nally...)
  by Eric Minton
  Oh yeah— Mandatory Bonus Duties!
  It was cheesy of us, we know, to slip in all 
  that introductory material in this chapter. Sorry, 
  we couldn’t ﬁ t it all on the previous page. But 
  now we’re back on track!
  Before getting to all the high-clearance 
  excitement that composes most of the book, 
  Extreme PARANOIA offers six new Mandatory 
  Bonus Duty (MBD) assignments. Like the 
  original six duties described in Chapter 43 of 
  the rulebook, these are jobs a Troubleshooter 
  is required to volunteer for, perform and enjoy 
  as a reward for continued service.
  Like the original six duties, these are optional, 
  and they work best with players (and GMs!) 
  already familiar with PARANOIA—and, in this 
  case, also with the original six MBDs. Unlike the 
  original duties, there is no MBD Determination 
  Test to determine who gets which of these new 
  duties, so have your players draw straws or 
  arm-wrestle or something.
  1. New Mandatory Bonus Duties
  I KNOW WHEN YOU’VE BEEN SLEEPING, I KNOW WHEN YOU’RE AWAKE...
  
  4
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Advertising & branding ofﬁ cer
  The advertising & branding ofﬁ cer works to maintain your team’s 
  service ﬁ rm endorsements, keeping you well supplied with service ﬁ rm 
  merchandise.
  He negotiates with your service ﬁ rm sponsor, supplying you with free 
  equipment bearing your sponsor’s logo. Naturally, you’ll play a role in 
  making sure this beloved logo is clearly seen on each and every member 
  of your team. Don’t be shy about showing off your brand! Likewise, it’s his 
  job to make sure no one on the team waters down the brand with disloyal 
  use of competing brands. Violating the terms of your endorsement isn’t 
  just bad manners—it’s treason!
  You can help your A&B ofﬁ cer by keeping an eye on your teammates. 
  Don’t let them hurt the team with ill-advised or infringing use of competing 
  brands and merchandise! Your success depends on brand loyalty, 
  because a strong brand makes a strong team.
  The advertising & 
  branding ofﬁ cer: All about  
  intellectual property
  At this time, not every Troubleshooter team 
  is lucky enough to have a service firm 
  endorsement. (This will be remedied within 
  the next ﬁ ve to 12 weeks in accordance with 
  HPD&MC initiative 214.11.26.117, ‘Mandatory 
  Troubleshooter Corporate Branding’.) Teams 
  lucky enough to win service ﬁ rm sponsorship 
  reap great rewards, from new equipment and 
  credit bonuses to the opportunity to participate 
  in complex-wide commercial advertisements! 
  But these beneﬁ ts depend on the maintenance 
  of certain standards, and it’s up to the A&B 
  ofﬁ cer to make sure that happens.
  Selling by proxy
  With the breakup of the service group 
  monopolies into thousands of squabbling 
  service firms, advertising has become 
  ubiquitous throughout Alpha Complex, and 
  citizens have adapted to an environment 
  saturated by sensory overload by tuning the 
  ads out. So the service ﬁ rms have diversiﬁ ed 
  into Troubleshooter branding. Everyone loves 
  to watch the wild antics of the Troubleshooters, 
  and so service ﬁ rms advertise by plastering 
  their logos all over Troubleshooters.
  When a service ﬁ rm sponsors a Troubleshooter 
  team, they provide new jumpsuits, badges, 
  patches and stickers bearing their firm’s 
  logo, along with an assortment of their 
  merchandise. By wearing the logo and using 
  the merchandise in public areas and on the 
  news vids, the Troubleshooters improve the 
  service ﬁ rm’s sales. In exchange, they get 
  more merchandise! Everybody wins!
  Of course, this only works if the 
  Troubleshooters actually wear the logo and 
  demonstrate the merchandise. The A&B 
  officer is responsible for making sure this 
  happens, and he’s authorized to inﬂ ict severe 
  ﬁ nes on team members who don’t live up to 
  their responsibilities in this regard. After all, if 
  the team fails to maintain a sufﬁ cient level of 
  visible branding, the sponsor may revoke its 
  endorsement. This can be a real problem if 
  the team’s endorsement had authorized them 
  to use products normally above their security 
  clearance.
  ■ Total Brand Loyalty
  In the cutthroat, clone-eat-clone world of 
  service firm branding, simply adhering to 
  one’s own brand is not enough. One must also 
  eschew all rival brands! A ﬁ rm can’t credibly 
  sell IntelliFluid if its spokespeople keep on 
  drinking Bouncy Bubble Beverage.
  It’s the A&B ofﬁ cer’s job to make sure his 
  teammates don’t use any products that might 
  infringe on their endorsement’s Total Brand 
  Loyalty clause. Sometimes this is obvious; 
  don’t go drinking HappyKaff if you’ve got 
  a CoffeeLike endorsement! On the other 
  hand, these conﬂ icts of interest can be much 
  subtler. You may not know Fun Foods PLC 
  manufactures a line of edible ﬁ rearms, but that 
  won’t get you off the hook when they cancel 
  their endorsement because you used a regular 
  laser pistol instead of a FunBeam.
  And it’s not just the competing products 
  themselves that can cause problems. Other 
  Troubleshooter teams rely on endorsements 
  too, and fraternizing with a team sponsored 
  by a rival ﬁ rm violates the endorsement terms 
  for both teams. Likewise, the team needs to 
  avoid objects and places that carry advertising 
  for rival ﬁ rms. Even walking past the wrong 
  billboard can threaten the endorsement, 
  leading to hours of desperate bootlicking to 
  keep it alive.
  Docbot: What seems to be the problem, 
  citizen?
  Troubleshooter: Oh, thank Computer you’re 
  here! We were in a ﬁ reﬁ ght... oh, 
  my spleen...
  Docbot: Well, let me have a look—
  A&B officer: [interrupting] No, no, wait, 
  sorry, please step back from the 
  patient.
  Docbot: For what cause, citizen?
  A&B ofﬁ cer: The problem is, you’ve got a 
  NutriMax logo on your chassis, and 
  we’re a VitaYum team. Regulations 
  forbid you from interfering with our 
  team members. You’ll have to go 
  back and send another docbot with 
  a compatible sponsor.
  Troubleshooter: But... my spleen!
  A&B officer: Don’t worry, we’ll have 
  another docbot here within the hour. 
  I’m almost absolutely certain you 
  probably won’t die before then.
  
  5
  1. NEW MBDS
  ADVERTISING & BRANDING OFFICER 
  Advert. & branding ofﬁ cer
  Good work, citizen! Because of your enthusiasm and dedication 
  to duty, you have been selected for the all-important role of 
  advertising and branding ofﬁ cer. Surely this demonstrates The 
  Computer’s belief in your abilities!
  Troubleshooters play a key role in maintaining a healthy level of 
  competition in the economy of Alpha Complex. Each team takes 
  on a service ﬁ rm brand, and it’s your job to maintain the sanctity of 
  that brand by ensuring everyone on your team proudly displays the 
  brand logo. You also oversee your team’s Brand Consumption 
  Quota, ensuring everyone eats, drinks, sprays, applies, ﬁ res, thrusts 
  or otherwise makes use of the chosen brand.
  In addition, your team must demonstrate Total Brand Loyalty! 
  Use of rival brands, or items bearing the logos of those brands, 
  is strictly forbidden. You must police your teammates, ensuring 
  they do not weaken the sponsoring brand through usage of rival 
  products.
  To help you in your task, you will receive a supply of free service 
  ﬁ rm merchandise, along with paste-on logos to attach to all the 
  team’s clothing and equipment.
  Your service ﬁ rm brand is your team’s best friend. Keep it 
  strong!
  I DON’T CARE IF THEY’RE FIRING! STAND UP AND SHOW THAT LOGO!
  Product placement
  As part of the endorsement, a service ﬁ rm provides goodies to its 
  branded Troubleshooter team, and the A&B ofﬁ cer distributes them. 
  Each team member gets a new jumpsuit bearing the service ﬁ rm logo, 
  and enough logo stickers for everyone’s weapons, toolkits and other 
  gear. There’s also enough merchandise for everyone to get some; many 
  ﬁ rms provides a variety of products. Would you rather get a six-pack of 
  Bouncy Bubble Beverage or some experimental new Bubble Armor? 
  The A&B ofﬁ cer might let you choose—if you’re really nice to him!
  Service ﬁ rms expect their Troubleshooters to make extensive public 
  use of this free merchandise. Sponsors may also require the team to 
  ﬁ ll out survey forms indicating how the merchandise performed under 
  combat conditions. Just what kind of use can you get from a pouch of 
  Hot Fun under combat conditions? We don’t know, but when you ﬁ gure 
  it out, make sure you write it on line 294b...
  Brand Consumption Quotas
  Service ﬁ rms want results. Whenever the team goes out on a mission, 
  their sponsoring service ﬁ rm assigns a Brand Consumption Quota: 
  a minimum number of times they must be seen using each product in 
  public or on the vids. If the team meets or surpasses the quota, they 
  may receive cash bonuses and other beneﬁ ts. But if they fail to meet the 
  quota, the A&B ofﬁ cer may ﬁ ne offenders 10–25 credits per violation, 
  and the team may lose the endorsement entirely.
  Brand Consumption Quotas tend to be reasonable given standard 
  mission circumstances, but when do your PCs ever undertake standard 
  missions? Unusual events make the seemingly reasonable quota a 
  challenge. If the average mission takes 5.7 hours, it’s not unfair to assign 
  the team 30 cans of Bouncy Bubble Beverage; but if a particular mission 
  has to be ﬁ nished in 17 minutes, there may be a problem.
  Some service ﬁ rms encourage their teams to hand out free samples to 
  passing INFRAREDs, whereas others consider this a waste of resources 
  and a violation of the contract; it behooves the A&B ofﬁ cer to ﬁ nd out 
  before the mission. Disposing of extra equipment on the IR Market is 
  always illegal, as is the loss or destruction of assigned merchandise. 
  As with all other branding violation charges, the A&B ofﬁ cer distributes 
  10-25cr ﬁ nes at his discretion. It is truly fortunate The Computer always 
  selects a fair and impartial citizen for this important role!
  Each ﬁ rm bases its Brand Consumption Quotas on the constantly 
  shifting balance of the Alpha Complex economy. Quotas may shift 
  radically between or even during missions. If the team is lucky, an 
  increase in the quota (and it’s always an increase—how strange!) is 
  accompanied by delivery of additional merchandise. Otherwise, making 
  that one BLUE SubstiFruit beverage last for 13 public uses may take 
  creativity....
  A typical A&B ofﬁ cer conversation
  A&B ofﬁ cer: You’re doing great, Stephanie-R! Here, have another 
  VitaYum bar.
  Stephanie-R: [clutching her stomach] I can’t... I’m too full...
  A&B ofﬁ cer: Listen, kid, I know it hurts. But we’re on an endorsement 
  contract and we’re dangerously close to missing our Brand 
  Consumption Quota! We’re about to take on that Humanist 
  cell, there’s a ﬁ lm crew waiting and everyone else has their 
  hands full with those VitaYum Assault Weapons. Everyone 
  is counting on you. Do you want to let the team down?
  Stephanie-R: I think I have to puke.
  A&B ofﬁ cer: Good, good, that’ll make more room. Feeling better? 
  Great! Now grab that bar and get out there! Go and eat one 
  for the team!
  
  6
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Agent provocateur
  The agent provocateur: 
  Team traitor-talker
  The agent provocateur’s job is to spot traitors 
  in a crowd, go undercover to secret society 
  meetings to get information on their upcoming 
  activities, and entrap traitors into revealing 
  their treason.
  Not every citizen has the heart for this 
  important task. After all, it’s easy for citizens 
  outside the team to mistake him for a real 
  traitor. As a result, the agent provocateur 
  is 238% more likely than any other MBD to 
  be terminated for treason. But don’t let this 
  discourage him! The risks are great, but the 
  rewards are greater—at least for his next 
  clone.
  Ready for anything
  At each mission brieﬁ ng, the agent provocateur 
  receives information regarding traitor groups 
  he’s likely to encounter, including passwords, 
  call signs, meeting places and doctrines.
  That’s what’s supposed to happen, at any 
  rate; if the brieﬁ ng ofﬁ cer isn’t on the ball, this 
  may boil down to, ‘There’s some traitors out 
  there, go ﬁ nd ’em.’
  Assure the agent provocateur this information 
  is totally accurate and up-to-date. Give him 
  your personal guarantee IntSec won’t fob 
  off last month’s obsolete passwords, and 
  the brieﬁ ng ofﬁ cer would never deliberately 
  sabotage efforts to inﬁ ltrate his own secret 
  society.
  How much information should you give about 
  these secret societies? If it’s longer than this 
  paragraph, it’s probably too much. Unless it’s 
  dangerously inaccurate, of course, or above 
  his security clearance.
  Mission: impossible
  Whenever the team encounters traitors, or 
  citizens who might conceivably be traitors, 
  it’s the agent provocateur’s job to go in, chat 
  them up, and collect all possible information 
  regarding their contacts and activities. Make 
  sure his teammates are aware of this! That 
  way, if he neglects his duty, they’ll be sure to 
  remind him.
  Of course, sometimes a single inﬁ ltrator 
  isn’t enough. As the team expert on 
  counterintelligence missions, the agent 
  provocateur knows when it’s necessary to bring 
  backup, and his role gives him the authority 
  to requisition additional team members to join 
  him for support. Like, say, whoever suggested 
  sending him on the assignment in the ﬁ rst 
  place. This tends to cut back dramatically on 
  agent provocateur suicide missions.
  On the upside, when the agent wants to 
  contact his own secret society, he can pass 
  it off as part of his job. On the downside, he’ll 
  then be expected to report what he’s learned. 
  A clever agent can pin everything on a third 
  party; a slow-witted agent will inevitably ﬂ ub 
  up and rat out his allies, leading to some angry 
  secret society superiors and a dramatically 
  shortened lifespan.
  Now, assuming the agent’s recognition 
  signals are accurate and he successfully 
  passes himself off as a secret society member, 
  he’s in a perfect position to uncover treasonous 
  activities, right? Well, sure. But the traitors 
  expect him to participate in those activities, and 
  this MBD doesn’t grant special dispensation to 
  commit treason.
  Communist: Psst! What is the password?
  Agent provocateur: Uh... ‘Borscht is 
  best’?
  Communist: Excellent! We’ve been 
  expecting you. Here, take this 
  propaganda and paste it up in 
  Corridor 5780-G.
  Agent provocateur: But that’s a GREEN 
  Clearance corridor.
  Communist: Ah, do not let that bother 
  you. Inequality is evil! Down 
  with clearances! Up with the 
  Revolution!
  Agent provocateur: Uh, yeah. I’ll be going 
  now...
  The AP-2140 Audio Implant
  To maintain contact with the rest of the team, 
  the agent provocateur is often ﬁ tted with a new 
  AP-2140 Audio Implant. Expert R&D surgeons 
  implant this miniaturized com unit directly in 
  the agent’s ear, allowing his team to listen in 
  The agent provocateur is your teammate on the inside when you’re 
  tracking down traitors. He receives special training for inﬁ ltrating secret 
  society meetings and for spotting the ringleaders in spontaneous criminal 
  outbursts.
  Your agent provocateur has a lot on his mind, so don’t be shy about 
  pointing him toward potential traitors! Remind him you’ve got his back 
  when he’s off to spy on those Commies and PURGErs. And no matter 
  how numerous or well-armed a mob of mutants and traitors might be, 
  don’t hesitate to call upon his services. After all, that’s what he’s here 
  for! And if he asks you to accompany him, it’s your duty to help.
  But most important, remember his job doesn’t authorize him to commit
  treason, just to act like it. So if you see him commit treason, turn him 
  in —but if he’s merely consorting with traitors, don’t worry! That just 
  means he’s doing his job.
  
  7
  SO, GUYS, UH—KNOW OF ANY COOL TREASON AROUND HERE? WINK, WINK!
  1. NEW MBDS
  AGENT PROVOCATEUR
  Agent provocateur
  Congratulations, citizen! In recognition of your skill at spotting 
  and revealing traitors, you have been awarded the decisive role 
  of agent provocateur. Clearly, The Computer has enormous 
  trust in you, for only someone with unshakable loyalty is ever 
  granted this position.
  As agent provocateur, it’s your job to spot traitors and 
  schmooze with them, earning their trust so you and your team 
  can break up entire traitor cells and terrorist networks. You 
  are responsible for inﬁ ltrating all such groups you encounter, 
  especially those that might be involved in your current mission. 
  Naturally, you will be given passwords and information to help 
  you insinuate yourself into their misguided organizations. You 
  are also authorized to demand backup and support from your 
  teammates.
  To aid you, The Computer has kindly provided you with useful 
  equipment, including an AP-2140 Audio Implant to let you 
  keep in touch with your teammates. Of course, if you need any 
  other information or equipment, or a nice brainscrub after your 
  mission is over, you have only to ask.
  Remember, you’re an undercover agent, so act like one!
  on everything going on around him. In addition, the team can talk to 
  him through the implant, supplying him with advice, information and 
  orders at any time.
  (Is this a cheap ploy to ensure the rest of the players remain engaged 
  while the agent provocateur is off on his own? Of course it is! Famous 
  Game Designers always ﬁ nd elegant solutions to even the most complex 
  gaming problems.)
  The audio-only connection makes it difﬁ cult for the rest of the team to 
  really be sure what’s going on. Many secret society cells, worried about 
  just such audio surveillance, make routine small talk while conducting 
  their actual business in twitchtalk or writing.
  What today’s fashionable traitor is wearing
  R&D also supplies a range of equipment to help the agent provocateur 
  ﬁ t in better with the twisted wretches who populate Alpha Complex’s 
  secret societies. Every agent looks forward to receiving these useful 
  items! Here’s a selection:
  � Propaganda: Pamphlets, ﬂ iers, posters, books and vid disks 
  containing information on a secret society’s principles and 
  doctrines. It goes without saying that this propaganda is both (a) 
  above the agent’s security clearance and (b) ﬁ lled with intentional 
  inaccuracies, to forestall corruption should it fall into an innocent 
  citizen’s hands.
  � Drugs: Psion members peddle mutagens, Pro Tech loves cutting-
  edge biochem, and the Mystics take anything. To spare the agent 
  from handling drugs above his security clearance, R&D gives him 
  bottles of realistic placebos.
  � Cybernetics: To ﬁ t in with Corpore Metal, an agent may be 
  assigned fake cybernetic implants. These paste-on chunks of 
  metal and plastic look real on superﬁ cial inspection. Impairment 
  of the wearer’s vision and movement is guaranteed to be minimal. 
  Probably.
  � Mutations: Pass yourself off as a pyrokinetic by using ﬁ re-
  spraying wristbands, or as a matter eater with intestinal nanotech! 
  Guaranteed 100% safe by R&D. C’mon, everyone trusts R&D!
  A typical agent provocateur conversation
  Free Enterprise guy: You wanna BLUE IntSec Agent badge? Sure, 
  I got one.
  Agent provocateur: Lemme see it.... Yeah, looks real. How much 
  you want?
  Free Enterprise guy: Well, usually ten thou, but for 12 thou I’ll throw 
  in this radio jammer. Top quality!
  Team leader: [broadcasting to the agent’s audio implant] C’mon, 
  close the deal, IntSec’s waiting on you.
  Agent provocateur: Sounds good, but you gotta show me it works.
  Free Enterprise guy: No problem. Lemme just charge this sucker 
  up, then ﬂ ip da switch... [Jammer hums; the audio implant 
  ﬁ lls with static.]
  Agent provocateur: Niiice. Here’s da disk da capo asked for. Now 
  you only gotta minute, IntSec’s on da way...
  
  8
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Alertness ofﬁ cer
  The alertness ofﬁ cer: On 
  his, and everyone’s, toes
  As loyal solution-providers of Alpha Complex, 
  Troubleshooters are in constant danger from 
  Communists, mutants and assorted traitors. 
  The alertness ofﬁ cer ensures his team remains 
  ever vigilant against all threats. Using various 
  techniques, notably the Emergency Response 
  Test (ERT), he challenges teammates to 
  remain focused, ever ready to unleash 
  withering volleys of weapons ﬁ re.
  Naturally, if the team falls prey to ambush 
  or other unexpected threats, the alertness 
  ofﬁ cer is to blame. Penalties for such failure 
  range from a slap on the wrist to complete and 
  thorough termination. But this isn’t as much of a 
  hazard as you’d think. After all, when Commies 
  kill the whole team, this usually includes the 
  alertness ofﬁ cer, and death in the line of duty 
  may be deemed an ample penalty for failure.
  The Emergency 
  Response Test
  Mortal danger is the only true test of a team’s 
  mettle. By invoking an ERT, the alertness 
  ofﬁ cer presents his teammates with a scenario 
  that so thoroughly mimics mortal peril that his 
  teammates are entirely fooled. (If you can’t 
  imagine how this could lead to horrible, bloody 
  consequences, you haven’t played enough 
  PARANOIA.)
  The alertness ofﬁ cer can invoke an ERT 
  any time the team is not actively opposing 
  The alertness ofﬁ cer ensures you’re prepared for Commie ambushes 
  and mutant attacks. He keeps you on your toes, so you’re always ready 
  for anything traitors can throw at you.
  If you’re worried your reﬂ exes aren’t quite up to snuff, or if one of 
  your teammates isn’t as attentive as he should be, tell your alertness 
  ofﬁ cer! He’ll sharpen your reactions with Standard Alertness Tests,
  or he’ll spring an Emergency Response Test to keep you on the ball. 
  What a great guy!
  Don’t try to second-guess your alertness ofﬁ cer. If you spend too 
  much time thinking about what’s a drill and what isn’t, you’re wasting 
  time that could be spent shooting at traitors. Remember, he’s testing 
  you for your own good!
  treason. This is more often than you’d 
  think—Troubleshooters spend an awful lot 
  of time eating, sleeping, traveling from one 
  sector to another, or just plain lounging. 
  Because uninteresting stuff doesn’t make for 
  a fun game, award the alertness ofﬁ cer with 
  Perversity points when he initiates a timely 
  ERT.
  Most often, The Computer administers 
  the ERT on the alertness officer’s behalf, 
  announcing fictitious threats to which the 
  Troubleshooters must react. Naturally, the 
  team doesn’t ﬁ nd out the danger is only a test 
  until after the test has concluded (and much of 
  the surrounding area has been ﬁ lled with laser 
  holes). Sometimes, even the alertness ofﬁ cer 
  himself isn’t sure what’s real and what isn’t!
  Alertness ofﬁ cer: [speaking softly into his 
  PDC] Friend Computer! Initiate ERT 
  sequence beta-six-three!
  The Computer: Greetings, Troubleshooters! 
  You have 20 minutes to manually 
  shut down Reactor Door 4327-DL in 
  TGR Sector. Estimated travel time 
  is 17 minutes. Failure will result in 
  termination. Have a nice day!
  Alertness ofﬁ cer: You heard The Computer! 
  I’m watching you, so give me some 
  good Alertness Scores!
  The Computer: Greetings, Troubleshooters! 
  You have 20 minutes to manually 
  shut down Reactor Door 186A/9 in 
  AMV Sector. Estimated travel time 
  is 18 minutes. Failure will result in 
  termination. Have a nice day!
  Team leader: Um... yes, Friend Computer! 
  [in a low voice] Two alertness tests? 
  As if one wouldn’t be enough? You 
  sadistic bastard.
  Alertness ofﬁ cer: Friend Computer? Please 
  cancel that second ERT.
  The Computer: You are in error, citizen. 
  Your team has not been assigned 
  an Emergency Response Test. 
  Thank you for your cooperation.
  Tools of the trade
  In addition to bogus messages from The 
  Computer, the alertness ofﬁ cer has a number 
  of other tools to scare the bejeezus out of his 
  heavily armed teammates:
  � Pyrotechnic grenades: Instead of 
  exploding, these grenades give off 
  harmless flashes of light and emit 
  the sounds of energy weapons ﬁ ring 
  and clones dying messily. Perfect for 
  generating the illusion of a real battle.
  � Inﬂ atable traitors: These small lumps 
  of plastic inﬂ ate with helium at the touch 
  of a button, blowing up into life-sized 
  dolls adorned with red Communist stars, 
  fake fur shakos and other traitorous 
  accessories. Startled Troubleshooters 
  can easily mistake them for real traitors, 
  if it’s dark and the team is hopped up on 
  combat drugs. The trick works better if 
  you announce you’re facing a bunch of 
  ﬂ ying mutants.
  � Inflatable lasers: Much like the 
  aforementioned dolls, these ﬁ nger-sized 
  
  9
  BOO! HAHA, GOT YOU.
  1. NEW MBDS
  ALERTNESS OFFICER
  Alertness ofﬁ cer
  Congratulations, citizen! Your razor-sharp reﬂ exes have 
  earned you the position of alertness ofﬁ cer. Your team’s 
  very survival is in your hands; surely The Computer must 
  place great faith in your abilities!
  Commie mutant traitors will use traps, ambushes, and 
  all-out frontal assaults to try to kill you and your fellow 
  Troubleshooters. As alertness ofﬁ cer, it’s up to you to 
  make sure your team is at peak preparedness to deal with 
  all kinds of danger.
  At irregular intervals, surprise your team with an 
  Emergency Response Test (ERT). You’ll spring a 
  simulated threat on your team and see how they react. 
  Then use any of a wide variety of Standard Alertness 
  Tests (SATs) to improve their accuracy and sharpen their 
  reﬂ exes. Never let up; no matter how they complain, your 
  teammates depend on your harsh but fair testing.
  Stay Alert! Trust No One! Keep Your Laser Handy!
  mylar tubes puff up into the spitting image of real laser riﬂ es. Ideal 
  for outﬁ tting groups of shanghaied (and expendable) INFRAREDs 
  to stage a mock assault on your team’s position.
  � Inﬂ atable bots: You get the idea....
  The quick and the dead
  On a less dramatic note, the alertness ofﬁ cer may administer a Standard 
  Alertness Test (SAT) whenever the team seems to be getting a bit slow 
  and ﬂ abby. By forcing team members to practice drawing and ﬁ ring 
  quickly and accurately, not only does he ensure they’re ready to handle 
  the Commie threat, but he also identiﬁ es the slowest, least-prepared 
  members of the team. That they exhaust their ammo while his laser 
  remains fully charged is just an incidental bonus.
  Target shooting is the most common SAT, but there’s a range of other 
  options. Tests of running speed and endurance help prepare the team 
  for hunting down (or escaping) Commie Mutant Traitors, or ﬂ eeing from 
  a reactor meltdown or misused R&D device. Paranoid alertness ofﬁ cers 
  favor ‘Spot the Sniper’, though some prefer the ‘Tripwire Hurdle’. Tests 
  with live ammunition or real monoﬁ lament wire are frowned upon due to 
  the risks to valuable Computer property. But really (the skilled alertness 
  ofﬁ cer responds), how else are you going to get results?
  Poor performers on the SAT must pay small but noticeable ﬁ nes, 
  usually15–25 credits. In addition, they must continue to practice their 
  combat alertness, often with the aid of such ingenious devices as the 
  Alertness Visor, a fully enclosed helmet that projects images of traitors 
  onto the wearer’s surroundings. (Will the wearer mistake real traitors 
  for imaginary ones, or accidentally ﬁ re upon his own team members? 
  Watch and see.)
  Depending on the needs of the mission and the whims of PLC, 
  the alertness officer may also be issued a supply of appropriate 
  pharmaceuticals to administer to poor performers, or even to the entire 
  team. No, these aren’t the cheerful, euphoric drugs you get from your 
  Happiness Ofﬁ cer. These drugs wrap your brain in a scarlet haze of 
  psychotic fury and don’t let go until you pass out from exhaustion and 
  slump limply onto the eviscerated corpses of your victims. What fun!
  A typical alertness ofﬁ cer conversation
  Alertness ofﬁ cer: So you think you’re ready for anything, citizen?
  Troubleshooter: Absolutely!
  Alertness ofﬁ cer: Okay, let’s test your alertness. Someone in this 
  warehouse has a laser pistol just like this one, and he’s about to shoot 
  you—can you pick out his location? You have... ten seconds.
  Troubleshooter: Hmm. If it were me, I’d be over… there. Yeah, he’d 
  be on that catwalk, just behind those crates.
  Alertness ofﬁ cer: Wrong. [Shoots teammate in leg.]
  Troubleshooter: AAAH!
  Alertness ofﬁ cer: Remember, traitors are everywhere—sometimes 
  even on your team! You fail; that’s a 10-credit ﬁ ne. Now let’s work on 
  your accuracy...
  
  10
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Financial ofﬁ cer
  Money is power, and power needs careful management. It’s the job of 
  the ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer to manage your team’s buying power to maximize 
  your efﬁ ciency in the ﬁ eld.
  If you need any special equipment to do your job properly, you can rely 
  on the ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer’s ﬁ scal acumen to ensure that you get exactly the 
  budget you need. He’ll also oversee your personal expenses to ensure 
  that you buy and spend patriotically.
  Naturally, not everyone on your team will manage their money 
  perfectly. Sometimes your teammates need a little help in sticking to a 
  budget. If they spend too much or too little, don’t neglect to keep your 
  ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer informed!
  The ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer: 
  Working hard for your 
  money
  Money is essential to the proper functioning 
  of Alpha Complex. In its inﬁ nite wisdom, the 
  Computer has granted every citizen a fair 
  and equitable salary. Similarly, every citizen 
  has expenses that must be met. But ﬁ nancial 
  planning is difﬁ cult and complex, and not every 
  citizen is up to the task. This inadequacy shows 
  itself most keenly among Troubleshooters; the 
  very future of Alpha Complex is in their hands, 
  and it would be a crime if their work failed 
  through improvidence and ﬁ scal impropriety.
  As a critical guardian of the Alpha Complex 
  economy, it falls to the financial officer to 
  ensure his Troubleshooter team spends its 
  money wisely, efﬁ ciently and legally. Each 
  and every credit must be spent, and not a 
  credit more!
  Financial ofﬁ cer: Citizen! Your account is 
  showing you have 10 credits left 
  over this month.
  Troubleshooter: I’m saving up for a ticket 
  to the Teela show!
  Financial ofﬁ cer: Commendable, but I’ll 
  have to fine you 15 credits for 
  inefﬁ cient spending.
  Duties of the ﬁ nancial 
  ofﬁ cer
  To ensure the legitimacy of all team transactions, 
  the ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer must keep close track of 
  every team member’s credit balance. At any 
  time, he may call for an Emergency Credit 
  Check (ECC) of any teammate. Anyone 
  targeted with an ECC must present his ME 
  Card and plasticreds to the ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer for 
  immediate inspection. Remind everyone that 
  failing to submit to an ECC is treason.
  Naturally, possessing credits with illegal 
  licenses is treason. Possessing credits 
  acquired through treasonous acts is treason. 
  Spending more or fewer credits each month 
  than your Monthly Mandated Fiscal Budget 
  Allotment (i.e. your monthly salary) may 
  not be treason, but it’s certainly suspicious. 
  Such improper expenditures are regrettably 
  common, however, and Troubleshooter 
  teams are lucky to have a ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer on 
  hand to help them spend wisely and legally. 
  After all, it’s better to submit to small but ﬁ rm 
  ﬁ nes (say, 10 to 25 credits) from the ﬁ nancial 
  ofﬁ cer than to have to explain these budgetary 
  inconsistencies to The Computer.
  Encourage the ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer to perform 
  Emergency Credit Checks. This encouragement 
  can take the form of Perversity rewards for 
  well-timed inspections, or cash rewards from 
  The Computer for revealing illegally licensed 
  credits. The Computer might also issue stern 
  warnings that the ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer isn’t doing 
  his job.
  Cash and carry, Charlie-R
  Sometimes, instead of simply providing 
  mission equipment, the Computer will instead 
  offer a Troubleshooter Mission Endowment
  (TME): a sizable private account, which the 
  team may use to purchase equipment and 
  supplies for their mission.
  It is the ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer’s responsibility to 
  maintain the TME and oversee the expenditure 
  of credits from the account. Of course, the 
  financial officer will choose his purchases 
  wisely, not giving himself the lion’s share of 
  the best equipment or misappropriating funds. 
  Access to the TME is granted through a plastic 
  card resembling a normal ME Card. Woe to 
  the ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer who misplaces the team’s 
  TME Card!
  Remember, equipment purchased in this 
  way isn’t personal property! It’s all Computer 
  property, just like every Troubleshooter’s laser 
  and reﬂ ec, or the stuff  from R&D. Anyone 
  who loses or resells any of this equipment 
  is in for a big surprise. Then again, so is the 
  ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer. Why did he hand over valuable 
  Computer property to a citizen who didn’t treat 
  it properly?
  Instead of a TME, the Computer may instead 
  provide the team with a Troubleshooter 
  Protracted Operation Fund (TPOF). This 
  doesn’t fund a single mission, but rather 
  provides enough money for a full month or 
  more of operational expenses. The ﬁ nancial 
  ofﬁ cer must manage the money in the TPOF 
  for every mission during that period, spending 
  neither too little nor too much. Unfortunately, 
  he has no way to know in advance how many 
  missions there will be nor how many credits 
  will be required for each mission. Should he 
  buy everyone a Repeating Blaster Mk. 6 now, 
  or save the money in case they need to rent a 
  ﬂ ybot? Decisions, decisions...
  Exact change, please
  Central to the ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer’s work is the 
  PDC Financial Analysis program. With one 
  
  11
  WHAT’S THIS LINE ITEM HERE? ‘BRIBING YOU’? COULD YOU ELABORATE?
  1. NEW MBDS
  FINANCIAL OFFICER
  Financial ofﬁ cer
  Congratulations, citizen! Because of your trustworthiness 
  and attention to detail, you have been chosen as your team’s 
  ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer. This is a great honor! Money is the lifeblood 
  of Alpha Complex, and your selection for this role shows The 
  Computer’s abiding faith in your abilities.
  As ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer, it’s your job to make sure your teammates 
  play their prescribed role in the Alpha Complex economy. 
  You’ll convince imprudent citizens to stick to their budgets, 
  while encouraging thrifty teammates to spend-spend-spend! 
  You’ll especially keep an eye out for unusual or treasonous 
  credit licenses in their accounts, as these are indications of 
  treacherous disloyalty to The Computer.
  In addition, you may need to procure equipment on behalf 
  of the entire team. Sometimes Troubleshooter teams receive 
  a fund of credits with which to obtain mission equipment. 
  Your fellows will congratulate you on your shrewd use of this 
  purchasing power. Spend their money wisely, and they’ll thank 
  you for it!
  swipe of a ME Card, he can bring up a full credit history, tracking every 
  transaction and presenting a three-dimensional decision tree detailing 
  the card owner’s probable future purchases and likely secret society 
  afﬁ liations based on advanced AI analysis.
  Isn’t it a shame all of these advanced features are well above the 
  ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer’s security clearance? He must make do with the card-
  owner’s current credit total and licensing information on those credits. 
  The ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer must conduct constant, intrusive spot checks to 
  keep tabs on the team’s assets. It’s a good thing Troubleshooter teams 
  always trust their ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cers, showing immense patience where 
  one might expect lesser citizens to respond with irritable brass-knuckled 
  violence.
  For team members unable to control their spending, the ﬁ nancial 
  ofﬁ cer may prescribe attendance at Thrift Improvement Seminars, where 
  the proﬂ igate citizen can learn techniques to control their spending. For 
  more difﬁ cult cases, he may attach a Spending Control Clamp to the 
  poor unfortunate’s ME Card, and may then approve (with his thumbprint) 
  any purchases made with that card.
  The ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer may assign excessively parsimonious citizens 
  Advertising Visors, goggles that ﬂ ash subliminal instructions to purchase 
  such wonderful products as IntelliFluid and Bouncy Bubble Beverage, 
  or simply send them on Mandatory Spending Sprees. If all else fails, 
  the ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer can simply ﬁ ne the tightwad repeatedly until excess 
  credits are gone.
  A typical ﬁ nancial ofﬁ cer conversation
  Financial ofﬁ cer: Look at this, Hans-R. You have 0.71 credits unspent 
  from last month!
  Troubleshooter: I know, I’m sorry, but I can’t ﬁ nd anything that costs 
  less than 1 credit.
  Financial officer: Not to worry, we’ll just file a 347125/78-HJ 
  ‘Fractional Credit Rounding Form’.
  Troubleshooter: Oh, no, not another one of your ﬁ ve-hour forms!
  Financial ofﬁ cer: Not this time, this one’s very quick. Just ﬁ ll in your 
  name here and here, write in the number of credits here and 
  here, and initial it here, here and here.
  Troubleshooter: [blinks in surprise] Hey, that was easy!
  Financial ofﬁ cer: Easy as Cold Fun! Now, there’s just the matter of 
  the 80-credit ﬁ ling fee...
  
  12
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Medical ofﬁ cer
  The medical ofﬁ cer works tirelessly to ensure the safety and health of 
  everyone on the team.
  He’s outﬁ tted with the ﬁ nest portable medical technology available, 
  and he stands ready to use all of his equipment and know-how to save 
  your life in case of a medical emergency. Don’t hesitate to come to him 
  for help and advice about any sort of health issue that you may have! 
  Whether you’re afﬂ icted with laser burns, shotgun shrapnel or ﬂ esh-
  eating bacteria, he’ll kiss your boo-boos and make them all better.
  Your medical ofﬁ cer’s job also includes seeing to your team’s overall 
  physical ﬁ tness. Give him a hand! Point out team members who may 
  be suffering from poor diet and lack of exercise, so he can prescribe an 
  appropriate dietary and physical ﬁ tness regimen. Remember, a healthy 
  team is a loyal team!
  The medical ofﬁ cer: 
  Ensuring health at any price
  The medical ofﬁ cer ensures the team remains 
  at full health. This involves an endless battery 
  of Preventative Health Tests (PHTs), 
  combined with a grueling exercise regimen 
  sufﬁ cient to make Vulture Warriors cry. Illness, 
  injury or lack of physical ﬁ tness on the part of 
  any team member can spell doom for the rest, 
  so the medical ofﬁ cer remains ever vigilant 
  against even the tiniest, most insigniﬁ cant 
  medical problems.
  Remind the medical ofﬁ cer idleness breeds ill 
  health. Overindulgence in food, drink or drugs 
  leads to ill health. Exposure to radio waves, 
  microwaves and most frequencies of visible 
  light can lead to ill health. In fact, anything and 
  everything in Alpha Complex has the potential 
  to weaken the team’s health.
  Medical officer: Citizen? Why are you 
  sitting down?
  Troubleshooter: In case you hadn’t noticed, 
  there’s this bomb I’m trying to 
  defuse.
  Medical officer: Don’t you know that 
  sitting lowers dopamine levels and 
  reduces blood ﬂ ow to the brain, 
  impairing cognitive efﬁ ciency? Give 
  me 100 pushups, citizen! Get that 
  cardiovascular system in gear!
  Troubleshooter: But there’s only two 
  minutes left on the—
  Medical ofﬁ cer: No excuses! I want to see 
  some pushups right now! Hup! 
  Hup! Hup!
  The Armed Forces, CPU and HPD&MC have 
  established strict ﬁ tness standards to ensure 
  the health and vigor of the general population. 
  Naturally, these standards contradict one 
  another in hundreds of ways. It falls to the 
  medical ofﬁ cer to lay out an appropriate testing 
  regimen. In this, he may take direction from 
  the Alpha Complex penchant for establishing 
  baselines and averages. After all, it may be 
  hard to tell whether a citizen’s blood pressure is 
  above or below ‘normal’, but you can certainly 
  determine whether it’s above or below average 
  for the team.
  Encourage the medical ofﬁ cer to perform 
  spot checks of every team member’s vital 
  signs, or set them to doing jumping jacks 
  until they fall over. The lowest performer on 
  any given test (as determined by margins on 
  Violence rolls) clearly has health problems, 
  and no matter what the diagnosis, the medical 
  ofﬁ cer has a drug, exercise regimen or invasive 
  surgical procedure to ﬁ x it.
  Sometimes averages aren’t enough, though, 
  and stricter adherence to standards can be 
  necessary. Poor results from the entire team 
  indicate a treasonous lack of ﬁ tness discipline! 
  Fortunately the medical ofﬁ cer is well equipped 
  to handle such a calamity. Gravitic weights, 
  spasm-inducing exercise pills and adrenalin 
  injections are only a few of the tools in the 
  medical ofﬁ cer’s arsenal. And if all else fails, 
  he can call in a docbot to perform emergency 
  surgery, replacing inadequately performing 
  muscles and organs with shiny cybernetic 
  prostheses that are absolutely, positively 
  guaranteed to improve performance with no 
  defects or ﬂ aws whatever!
  A patch job
  Poor lifestyle choices aren’t the only source 
  of ill health. Troubleshooting is a dangerous 
  profession that sometimes leads to on-the-job 
  injury. It’s not uncommon for team members 
  to lose a few gallons of blood or sever the 
  occasional limb. It falls to the medical ofﬁ cer 
  to put things right.
  To facilitate these duties, the medical 
  officer receives a Standard Medical Kit
  (SMK), a little black bag brimming with all 
  the exciting, shiny medical equipment that 
  anyone could possibly need! The SMK holds 
  basic tools of the trade, from stethoscopes 
  and hypodermics to synthﬂ esh bandages and 
  nanobot reconstructive paste—plus enough 
  sandallathon and visomorpain injections to 
  anesthetize a whale. (Troubleshooters can 
  be such crybabies when they get their arms 
  shot off.)
  If none of that is enough, the medical ofﬁ cer 
  may call upon the services of a docbot to 
  perform triage and surgery. Docbots always 
  recognize the authority of the medical ofﬁ cer, 
  giving his experienced, judicious requests 
  priority over the rest of the team. They never
  ignore the medical ofﬁ cer’s diagnoses and 
  perform surgery at their own discretion. Why, 
  the idea is ludicrous!
  
  13
  OPEN WIDE...
  1. NEW MBDS
  MEDICAL OFFICER
  Ten warning signs of Inadequate Health 
  Maintenance
  Does the citizen in question:
  1. Slouch, droop or otherwise exhibit poor posture?
  2. Lack a healthy appetite?
  3. Eat to excess?
  4. Have trouble breathing after strenuous physical activity?
  5. Avoid regular aerobic exercise?
  6. Need drugs to get through the day?
  7. Refuse to take drugs to get through the day?
  8. Exhibit an unhealthy fear of docbots?
  9. Act nervous or agitated in your presence?
  10. Express disinterest in routine health assessments?
  Any of these warning signs indicates a possible health problem. Make 
  sure your medical ofﬁ cer knows he has the right—nay, the obligation—to 
  run a full battery of invasive medical tests on a team member that 
  demonstrates these warning signs. Three or four biopsies and a pint 
  of blood usually sufﬁ ce, but stricter measures may need to be taken. 
  Being trapped inside the guts of an MRIbot for half a mission is certainly 
  unpleasant and can impair short-term team efﬁ ciency, but in the long run, 
  everyone beneﬁ ts from the assurance of maximal personal health!
  A typical medical ofﬁ cer conversation
  Medical ofﬁ cer: Oh, no, no, this doesn’t look good at all.
  Troubleshooter: What? What’s wrong, doc?
  Medical ofﬁ cer: Well, your T-cell count is almost 5% below normal.
  Troubleshooter: Is that bad?
  Medical ofﬁ cer: It could be, it could be. I just have to perform a few 
  more tests. [Pulls a huge, wickedly pointed contraption from 
  his medical kit.]
  Troubleshooter: What is that?!
  Medical ofﬁ cer: Oh, this? It’s just a core aspirator. I need to take a 
  biopsy of your liver. Could you hold still, please?
  Troubleshooter: What? No! Get that thing away from me!
  Medical ofﬁ cer
  Congratulations, citizen! You’ve have been selected 
  for the role of medical ofﬁ cer. The health of your fellow 
  Troubleshooters is vital to the success of every mission. 
  Surely the Computer must have great faith in your abilities 
  to place their fate in your hands!
  Your duties include administering regular Preventative 
  Health Tests to ensure your team is ready for action, and 
  supervising your teammates in a strict regimen of aerobic 
  exercise and ﬂ exibility training. You must also be ready 
  to tend to mission-acquired injuries at a moment’s notice, 
  patching up cuts, burns and severed limbs under battleﬁ eld 
  conditions.
  To help you in your task, the Computer has generously 
  supplied you with a Standard Medical Kit, which contains 
  all the basic medical equipment and painkillers you’ll need. 
  You are also authorized to call on and instruct docbots in 
  any serious medical emergency.
  Remember, a healthy team is a loyal team!
  
  14
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Public relations guy
  Your public relations ofﬁ cer handles all dealings with the public and 
  the press.
  It’s important not to share classiﬁ ed information or disturbing news 
  with the public. These things make people unhappy, and unhappiness 
  is treason. Your PR guy presents a perfectly prepared face to the press; 
  he manages and massages all information that your team gives out. He 
  also deals with questions from the INFRARED masses, calming their 
  fears in the face of danger.
  You can help out by making sure your other teammates don’t talk to 
  anyone outside the team. The more your PR guy can control information, 
  the stronger your team will be!
  The PR guy: Putting a good 
  face on things
  Troubleshooters are public ﬁ gures in Alpha 
  Complex. Everyone wants to know who they 
  are and what kind of trouble they’ve shot. Hey 
  there, Mr. Troubleshooter! Did you catch the 
  radiation readings in RON Sector? Are the 
  Commies really murdering everyone who 
  drinks Extra-Classic Bouncy Bubble Beverage? 
  Can you get me Teela-O’s autograph?!
  The problem with this combination of 
  unexpected celebrity and audience interest is 
  poor information control. How is The Computer 
  to keep classiﬁ ed information under wraps 
  if Troubleshooters blab about it to passing 
  crowds of INFRAREDs? What happens to 
  morale if Troubleshooters tell everyone on their 
  residential block they think the War on Treason 
  is failing? How do you keep team members 
  from accidentally blabbing about their mission 
  to Commies posing as talent scouts? And how 
  do you keep compromised Troubleshooters 
  from sneaking seditious coded messages into 
  live sector-wide AlphaNet News broadcasts?
  The Computer found a solution to these 
  problems. In its inﬁ nite wisdom, it allows only 
  one Troubleshooter to represent the team in 
  dealings with lower-clearance citizens and the 
  press. The public relations ofﬁ cer’s job is to 
  control all the information the team releases 
  to the public.
  Yeah, the PR guy is screwed. Obviously, 
  he can’t keep the team from talking to anyone 
  about anything—that sort of isolation might 
  make them unhappy, and we can’t have that! 
  Also, Troubleshooters sometimes need to 
  discuss important matters with informants. And 
  informants spread rumors; that’s pretty much 
  an informant’s job description.
  To forestall possible slips of the tongue, 
  the PR guy is empowered to listen in on his 
  teammates’ conversations with anyone of 
  a lower security clearance. Now, it’s okay 
  to talk to the peons and the press about 
  unimportant matters—the temperature and the 
  latest vidshows. But anything even remotely 
  clearance-sensitive is right out. If a fellow 
  Troubleshooter engages in an inappropriate 
  conversation, the PR guy is obliged to terminate 
  it—the conversation, and (if the conversation 
  was treasonous) possibly the Troubleshooter. 
  Violators usually get off with a ﬁ ne and a stern 
  talking-to, if only because most PR guys really 
  like to hear themselves talk.
  The ﬂ ip side of this authority comes when 
  team members split off from the team, or if the 
  whole team splits up to cover more ground (or 
  to talk to their secret society contacts, or just 
  to get away from the PR guy). Unless the PR 
  guy has a lot of surveillance devices, he can’t 
  cover everyone’s conversations. If he doesn’t 
  panic when everyone else wanders off, give 
  him something to really freak out about.
  The Computer: Citizen! Are you aware 
  your teammate Jane-R-UQQ-1 is 
  currently in GFR Sector?
  PR guy: Uh? I mean, uh, sure, Friend 
  Computer. I think she had an, 
  uh, a docbot appointment. Yeah, 
  that’s it.
  The Computer: An AlphaNet News studio 
  seems an unusual place for a 
  medical appointment.
  PR guy: What would she be doing—? Oh, 
  no...
  The Computer: She appears to be discussing 
  PURGE activity in relation to your 
  team’s current assignment. You 
  didn’t authorize her to discuss this 
  matter publicly, did you, public 
  relations ofﬁ cer?
  PR guy: [whimpers]
  Smile for the camera
  Everyone in Alpha Complex is happy. The 
  Computer doesn’t want to make people 
  unhappy by sharing bad news. But if they must 
  hear bad news (like, say, their apartment block 
  is being irradiated), it’s best they hear it from 
  a friendly face. So Alpha Complex broadcasts 
  news vidshows full of friendly, confident, 
  trustworthy faces.
  Every public relations ofﬁ cer has a friendly 
  face, not to mention a brilliant smile and great
  hair. Why else would the Computer choose 
  him? Because of this, journalists know to home 
  in on the guy wearing the PR badge. Public 
  relations guys can be swarmed by reporters 
  and camera drones at the most inopportune 
  times—when they’re in the shower, trying to 
  sneak up on a bunch of Commies or defusing 
  a tacnuke with an exceptionally sensitive 
  detonator.
  In the corridors, in the mess hall, in the 
  bathroom... the PR guy can never be sure 
  
  15
  I VIEW EVERY SECTOR-SHATTERING CALAMITY AS AN OPPORTUNITY!
  1. NEW MBDS
  PUBLIC RELATIONS OFFICER
  whether he’s about to be interviewed, or worse, if he’s being ﬁ lmed right 
  now. So he always has to look his best! That’s why every PR guy is 
  assigned his own Personal Cosmetics Kit. The PCK contains creams, 
  ointments, oils, mascaras, lipsticks, blushes, powders, shampoos, hair 
  tonics, hairsprays, hair gels, hair dyes, combs, brushes, lamps and 
  mirrors, speciﬁ cally to ensure the PR ofﬁ cer looks better-than-human. 
  (Unfortunately, some of this stuff is terribly unhygienic, so a team’s 
  hygiene and PR ofﬁ cers may come to blows.)
  If another Troubleshooter must appear on camera, he must submit to 
  the PR guy’s verbal coaching and cosmetic ministrations or face a hefty 
  ﬁ ne. Not that the PR guy would ever make a teammate look bad.... 
  Even worse than these conﬂ icts is the eternal territorial battle between 
  the PR ofﬁ cer and the communications & recording ofﬁ cer. C&R ofﬁ cers 
  love to get things on camera, and they don’t need some obnoxious PR 
  ﬂ ack interrupting their voiceovers. Even worse, the PR guy’s public 
  statements to the press can contradict the C&R ofﬁ cer’s carefully 
  constructed narrative. Cue the exploding multicorders!
  A typical public relations guy conversation
  [The public relations ofﬁ cer appears on a monitor, spotless and smiling, 
  standing jauntily in a RED corridor. Distant laser ﬁ re and screams.]
  Voiceover: Hi there, Troubleshooters! This is CameraBot 909081-BB, 
  reporting for AlphaNet News! So, what are you guys up to? 
  On an important mission?
  PR guy: Well, hello there, 909081-BB! You know us, always busy! 
  Ready to kick Commie butt and take Commie names!
  Voiceover: And who’s this? [The camera turns to take in another 
  Troubleshooter, this one laser-burned and bloodstained.]
  PR guy: This is Wesley-R, BB. Say hi to the cambot, Wesley-R!
  Wesley-R: [Twitching.] Oh hi, uh... listen, man, Jack-R and Brenda-R 
  are down, the PURGErs have some kind of sonic weapon, 
  and Linda-R says you have to—
  PR guy: That’s great, Wesley-R! You’d better get back there pronto, 
  so you can ﬁ nish off those nasty traitors! [Shoves Wesley-R 
  out of the picture.]
  Voiceover: Oh wow, that sounds interesting! What’s this about 
  PURGE?
  PR guy: [Brilliant smile.] Oh, I’m afraid that’s classiﬁ ed information, BB! 
  But I can tell you—let’s just head over here, away from all that 
  noise—I can tell you a few things about us Troubleshooters 
  and our interesting duties! For example, did you know every 
  mission team has a happiness ofﬁ cer...?
  Public relations guy
  Congratulations, Troubleshooter! Due to your superior awareness 
  of social niceties and your excellent hair, you have been chosen 
  public relations ofﬁ cer. Only the most congenial and best-
  groomed citizens attain this position.
  As PR guy, it’s your job to ensure the public holds the highest 
  possible opinion of your team and of Troubleshooters in general. 
  You oversee all discussions between team members and the 
  rest of Alpha Complex. Make sure your teammates comport 
  themselves as beﬁ ts The Computer’s elite, and correct them if 
  they appear likely to disclose classiﬁ ed information.
  In addition, always be ready to speak to the press, encouraging 
  all citizens with your achievements and righteous fervor without 
  ever revealing classiﬁ ed data. Appearing on Alpha Complex 
  news programs is a great honor. Your excellent performance and 
  impeccable hairstyle are sure to make the Computer proud.
  Remember to smile for the camera!
  
  16
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  2. The roller coaster
  Rising (and otherwise) 
  in clearance
  Gamemaster, attend! Extreme PARANOIA 
  offers rules for playing characters in Alpha 
  Complex at all security clearances from 
  ORANGE through VIOLET. Before you 
  are cleared to learn these rules, read and 
  internalize the following vital concepts.
  ■ Clearance is not 
  competence!
  Security clearance has nothing to do with 
  ability. Clearance in Alpha Complex is strictly 
  a measure of how much The Computer trusts 
  you, and nothing else.
  Citizens of higher security clearance have 
  no necessary or expected advantage in gifts or 
  knowledge over those of lower clearance. That 
  INDIGO giving you orders may be a dimwit, a 
  pointy-haired boss, a nonentity. The RED he 
  names as your target may be James Bond.
  Rising in clearance doesn’t require ability, 
  just trustworthiness. It’s like the marketing 
  department of any corporation. Many marketers 
  have no useful skills at all—only a great smile, 
  a ﬁ rm handshake, immaculate clothes, perfect 
  hair and a matchless ability to suck up to the 
  boss. Yet they exercise supreme, unquestioned 
  authority. So it is in Alpha Complex.
  One exercise always makes PARANOIA
  Gamemasters go ‘aha’: Think of your boss at 
  work. Is he smarter or more capable than you? 
  What about his boss?
  There you go. That’s security clearance.
  ■ Clearance is not
  (necessarily) power!
  Yes, The Computer trusts you, and you can 
  lord it over everyone of lower clearance. 
  But high clearance may mean you perform 
  menial duties in highly sensitive areas. High 
  Programmers need their ofﬁ ces cleaned like 
  anyone else, and if they use human labor 
  instead of bots as a status symbol, well, who 
  empties those purple wastebaskets? Some 
  VIOLET Clearance janitor. He earns a huge 
  salary, has huge living quarters and eats great 
  food—but he’s still a janitor. He’s just really 
  trustworthy.
  That’s right, a custodian may earn a hundred 
  times more than a lowly RED Clearance 
  Troubleshooter who risks his life hourly. 
  Does that sound unjust? Not at all! The 
  Computer rewards valor, but it greatly prizes 
  trustworthiness. Surrounded by enemies, it 
  extends itself to keep trusted citizens happy.
  ■ Clearance is not 
  longevity!
  There is no time-based seniority system or 
  tenure in Alpha Complex. The Computer may 
  never trust you after 20 years in the food vats, 
  or it may trust you implicitly after a month in 
  the Troubleshooters. As shown in the mission 
  ‘Hunger’ in the collection WMD, there is no 
  inherent setting-based reason not to promote a 
  PC through three or four clearances in a single 
  mission—or demote him just as fast.
  ■ Clearance rises and falls 
  unnervingly
  Rising in clearance doesn’t equate with ‘going 
  up a level’ or ‘gaining skill points’ in other 
  (non-fun) RPGs. Such benchmarks in those 
  games are more or less permanent, like 
  birthdays. Characters earn them and then go 
  on, building from that stable base of ability. In 
  contrast, security clearance can rise and fall 
  with vertiginous speed.
  By a certain limited deﬁ nition Alpha Complex 
  is a strict meritocracy. ‘Merit’ depends entirely 
  on The Computer’s current view of you, as of 
  this nanosecond. The higher your clearance, 
  the more trust The Computer grants you, and 
  the more willing it is to give you the beneﬁ t of 
  the doubt. But the instant you actually do lose 
  its trust, it demotes you. Theoretically you could 
  be INDIGO this morning, BLUE this afternoon, 
  RED tomorrow and YELLOW the day after 
  that. The high-clearance life can be eventful, 
  unfortunately.
  Achieving stability isn’t a matter of reaching 
  a given clearance, but of connecting with an 
  old-boy network of powerful individuals who 
  ‘And one man in his time plays many parts / The acts being seven clearances...’
  by Allen Varney
  
  17
  IT DOESN’T GET ANY BETTER FROM HERE.
  2. CHANGING CLEARANCE
  GETTING HIGH
  will protect you for their own purposes. If you 
  screw up, these trusted citizens go to bat for 
  you with The Computer. Opportunities for 
  such alliances are rare below GREEN. And 
  the old-boy network is choosy, too; they only 
  protect people with something to offer. They 
  regard, say, standard-issue IntSec GREEN 
  goons as disposable. And the PCs? What 
  can they offer? Right, uh-huh. Doesn’t sound 
  exactly vital, does it?
  An extended PARANOIA Straight series 
  could focus on the PCs’ efforts to hook up with 
  likely protectors and networks. They watch 
  NPC bunkmates rise above them—see the 
  need for a patron, and try to ﬁ nd one—enjoy 
  brief protection, until the patron himself goes 
  down in ﬂ ames and the PCs are tarred with 
  guilt by association. They earn another 
  patron’s protection, but it depends entirely on 
  the patron’s current view of them, as of this 
  nanosecond...
  Remember, the game’s atmosphere is most 
  interesting when the players feel anxious, 
  beset from all sides and fighting a losing 
  battle. If they’re snugly under some INDIGO’s 
  umbrella, that paranoid anxiety disappears.
  How to get promoted
  If we knew that, we wouldn’t be stuck writing 
  roleplaying supplements. (Joke! Joke!)
  ‘How do I get to higher clearance?’ is the same 
  question as ‘How do I make The Computer 
  trust me more?’ Your players might think this 
  works the same way as gaining the trust of any 
  other paranoid schizophrenic: corroborate and 
  extend the nutcase’s delusions, manufacture 
  evidence conﬁ rming every outlandish belief 
  and offer undying support in the titanic struggle 
  against Whatever.
  But in Alpha Complex, everybody’s already 
  doing this. Some of them started before your 
  PCs were decanted, and they know inside info 
  that makes their own delusional corroborations 
  more convincing to The Computer.
  The way to advancement lies elsewhere.
  ■ Completing 
  Troubleshooter missions
  This is the fast-track path, explained in 
  the PARANOIA rulebook. Each time you 
  successfully complete a mission without 
  getting betrayed, censured, terminated, 
  etc., and with due attention to good order 
  and minimal property damage (considering 
  prevalent situational circumstances), The 
  Computer may decide to promote you one 
  or more security clearances. Piece of cake, 
  obviously.
  The rest of this section discusses options 
  available to citizens in non-Troubleshooting 
  professions, and to Troubleshooters who ﬁ nd 
  clever ways to avoid going on missions.
  ■ Higher-clearance 
  vouching
  Some trusted high-clearance citizen testiﬁ es 
  to The Computer you’re a trustworthy person, 
  you have skills or abilities vital to security and 
  good order, and you will work earnestly for 
  the welfare of Alpha Complex. BLUE citizens 
  can promote you this way as far as ORANGE; 
  INDIGOs can promote you up to GREEN; 
  VIOLETs, to INDIGO.
  Those of a historical bent might call this 
  the Horatio Alger Method. Horatio Alger, Jr. 
  (1832–1899), the bestselling American novelist 
  of the Gilded Age, wrote about poor but honest 
  young boys who supposedly get rich through 
  hard work, prudence and pluck. In fact, if you 
  read Tattered Tom or Ragged Dick or Phil the 
  Fiddler or any of Alger’s 130 novels, each kid 
  actually gets rich because he rescues some 
  rich old guy’s runaway horse, or returns the 
  rich old guy’s lost wallet, or saves the rich old 
  guy’s daughter from rufﬁ ans. The rich old guy 
  takes a liking to Ragged Dick, makes him his 
  ward, hands over his daughter and leaves him 
  the family business.
  In Alpha Complex that idea would work 
  more like this:
  Tom-SVH-1, a plucky young INFRARED 
  Tech Services janitor, happens to find in 
  an HPD wastebasket a discarded memo, 
  mistakenly left unshredded. Through his 
  drugged haze he discerns a script page from 
  the vidshow Traitor Hunt. The scene involves a 
  corrupt bureaucrat spouting PURGE doctrines. 
  An unidentiﬁ ed editor has scribbled insightful 
  corrections over the dialogue. Tom believes 
  the corrections suspiciously accurate.
  Tom skips his next dose of HappyTime 
  medicine. With a clear head and Alger-esque 
  pluck, he traces the exec who wrote the 
  comments. He confronts the exec, who denies 
  everything and threatens Tom with termination. 
  Tom loudly persists, catching the attention of 
  IntSec, which had bugged the exec’s ofﬁ ce. 
  Tom’s ﬁ nding is just what IntSec needs to 
  convict the traitor, and they rush in as the 
  exec pulls a laser on the plucky lad. The exec 
  is terminated and Tom is saved.
  An INDIGO IntSec director quickly promotes 
  Tom to GREEN, hoping to have a GREEN 
  citizen who’s truly honest, hard-working and 
  full of all that pluck business. At that clearance, 
  it’s much easier for Tom-G to ﬁ nd other cases 
  of treason. Tom-G quickly becomes IntSec’s 
  star investigator, and while his colleagues are 
  busy playing politics, Tom-G is making Alpha 
  Complex a more loyal place to live.
  All this makes Tom-G a lot of enemies. Who 
  could rise that high, that fast, without the aid of 
  treason? A quick interview with Tom-G’s old 
  INFRARED roommate reveals Tom didn’t take 
  his HappyTime medicine the day he turned 
  in the entertainment exec. Powerful people 
  persuade The Computer to nullify Tom-G’s 
  commendation and bust him back down to 
  INFRARED. Because he knows so much 
  thanks to his meteoric rise in clearance, he 
  gets brainscrubbed as well. Tom is given a 
  new name, Greg-SVH-1, and plopped in the 
  INFRARED barracks.
  A few weeks later, Greg ﬁ nds a unshredded 
  memo from a CPU manager with a lot of 
  treasonous writing....
  (By the way, Horatio Alger himself lived 
  a rags-to-riches-to-rags story. His literary 
  success subsided as others imitated him, and 
  he died in a rundown boarding house, nearly 
  penniless and forgotten. Not that this should 
  in any way indicate the likely success of the 
  Horatio Alger Method in Alpha Complex. 
  Nonono.)
  ■ Service ﬁ rm assistance
  Some citizens advance not through pull but 
  through public politics. Make the right friends in 
  your service ﬁ rm, get your co-workers involved 
  in your Elective Activity or Pursuit club, offer 
  to handle your boss’s catering arrangements 
  and dry cleaning, take the minutes for your 
  trade association’s monthly meetings, and 
  make yourself so generally useful it serves 
  your ﬁ rm’s interests to get you greater access. 
  And don’t forget plenty of ‘gifts’ to people in 
  high places.
  Yes, sometimes goody-two-shoes behavior 
  really does earn status—though not for your 
  PCs, of course, because this method is time-
  consuming and insanely boring. Still, it might 
  keep your players guessing about the high-
  clearance NPCs they meet. Does that GREEN 
  PLC manager have connections in Psion, or 
  does he just take good meeting minutes?
  One point about this service-ﬁ rm method: 
  Though you don’t need your secret society 
  working for you, you absolutely can’t get 
  anywhere if anyone powerful is against you. If 
  you’re (say) a registered mutant, and it turns 
  out your boss is Anti-Mutant, you’ll never gain 
  
  18
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  promotion no matter how many hors d’oeuvres 
  you make for his party.
  ■ Secret society assistance
  This is usually the best path. In Alpha Complex 
  as in our world, it’s not what you know, it’s 
  whom. When The Computer promotes to 
  RED an INFRARED citizen who isn’t already 
  neck-deep in conspiratorial obligations, the 
  secret societies make an unseemly rush to 
  recruit the new rising star. A new RED can 
  hardly step out the door of the barracks without 
  being bombarded by pamphlets and cryptic 
  messages from shadowy ﬁ gures.
  However, much depends on your chosen 
  society. Gareth Hanrahan, designer of the 
  fine PARANOIA supplement The Traitor’s 
  Manual, explains:
  ‘A surprising (to IntSec, anyway) percentage 
  of the true movers, shakers and breakers 
  of Alpha Complex never even rise as high 
  as ORANGE. Dangerous conspirators hide 
  anonymously among the INFRARED masses, 
  plotting from the comparative safety of crowded 
  barracks and vanishing from the system as 
  just another Computer-maintained ME ﬁ le. 
  (Of course, if the dastardly conspirator hasn’t 
  escaped the regular drugging of the INFRARED 
  drones, his conspiracies consist mainly of 
  drooling and faintly seditious grunts).
  ‘Violent society agents such as PURGErs 
  or Death Leopards rarely climb the clearance 
  levels, except in the Armed Forces, R&D or 
  Troubleshooters, where they can get access 
  to bigger guns. Other societies do try to pull 
  their members out of INFRARED; ambitious 
  (Humanist, Illuminati, Psion) or acceptable 
  (First Church of Christ Computer-Programmer, 
  ProTech) societies stampede toward INDIGO 
  and VIOLET, but most are content to get a few 
  members to GREEN and BLUE.’
  How to get demoted
  We have never heard of a PARANOIA
  Gamemaster who needs advice on this.
  ■ Clothing: Two PARANOIA GMs speak
  Welcome to my Complex. From INFRARED to GREEN 
  Clearance the primary color of your clothing is that of your 
  security clearance. Accessories are usually kept to a minimum 
  (more by custom rather than through a legal requirement), but 
  can be whatever color you like. (INFRAREDs tend to be too 
  drug-addled to accessorize at all.)
  Almost all higher-clearance citizens wear their security 
  clearance color as their primary color, because it’s a major 
  status symbol. Technically, though, BLUEs and higher can wear 
  any colors they please—except white! By law their clothing 
  must prominently display a ‘clearance patch’—often an Eye-
  of-the-Computer logo in the appropriate color. An armband or 
  patch over the heart is most common. In practice, anyone who 
  wears a lot of ornaments colored above his clearance would 
  draw suspicion.
  It is illegal for any security clearance below ULTRAVIOLET 
  to wear a lot of white. UVs can wear anything they want, but 
  they tend to wear all white, as a show of power.
   —Wesley Williams (‘Moto42’ on Paranoia-Live.net)
  In my Complex, visibly wearing clothes above your security 
  clearance is illegal, in order to promote efﬁ ciency and remove 
  confusion. Being caught doing so results in immediate removal 
  of the item and a stiff ﬁ ne.
  You are allowed to wear things of lower security clearance, 
  or colors that aren’t a security clearance, such as metallics, or indeterminates like cyan and brown, so there’s still a reasonable range of 
  choice. But the fashion runs to mainly wearing your clearance and accessorizing with the clearance one level below: red jumpsuits with 
  a black T-shirt underneath, or orange jumpsuits with a red shirt, etc. Also, colors tend to run the full range of saturation, so you can get 
  very light reds, very dark reds, etc.
  —Karl Low (‘Kwil’ on Paranoia-Live.net)
  Details of changing 
  clearance
  The Computer itself typically informs a citizen 
  of his promotion or demotion. (Exceptions: 
  Troubleshooters at briefings often learn 
  the news from brieﬁ ng ofﬁ cers.) Often The 
  Computer makes a public announcement 
  in the lucky citizen’s workplace, cafeteria or 
  living quarters, so all his fellow workers can 
  express congratulations or consolation as 
  appropriate. The Computer orders the citizen 
  to drop everything, on the instant, and report 
  to (1) CPU for a new ME Card and completion 
  of appropriate forms, (2) PLC for clothing of 
  the appropriate clearance and completion of 
  the appropriate forms, and (3) HPD&MC for 
  assignment of new living quarters and dining 
  facilities. And some forms.
  The entire process, absent secret society 
  influence or bribes, usually takes three or 
  four sleepless days. (Smart citizens heading 
  
  19
  HEY, BABE, MY CLEARANCE IS SO HIGH I’M GETTING NOSEBLEEDS.
  THE HIGH LIFE
  In a hierarchy every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence. In time, every post 
  tends to be occupied by an employee who is incompetent to carry out its duties.
  —Dr. Laurence J. Peter and Raymond Hull, The Peter Principle: 
  Why things always go wrong (1969)
  The most ineffective workers are systematically moved to the place where they can do the 
  least damage: management.
  —Scott Adams, The Dilbert Principle: A Cubicle’s-Eye View of Bosses, Meetings, Management 
  Fads & Other Workplace Afﬂ ictions (1996)
  into CPU stock up on WakeyWakey pills 
  and Emergency Bathroom Break vouchers.) 
  With bribes (say, a month’s salary at the new 
  clearance), insider pull, or a successful Access 
  roll, a character can condense the process to 
  a single eight-hour shift.
  The citizen technically doesn’t have to 
  interact with Power Services or Tech Services 
  to set up utilities in his new quarters; HPD 
  technically handles that, and they have the 
  waiting lists to prove it. There’s technically 
  no need at all to track down and bribe some 
  low-clearance ﬂ unky to covertly pipe in power 
  and water. Once the citizen’s name rises to 
  the top of the waiting list, Power and Tech will 
  install his utilities efﬁ ciently and courteously, 
  assuming the Sun hasn’t yet swollen to a red 
  giant and consumed the Earth.
  Non-player characters usually go back to 
  their selfsame service ﬁ rm, where they take 
  up new duties based on their new clearance. 
  It makes for a more interesting game if player 
  characters get reassigned to a completely new 
  ﬁ rm in (they hope) the same service group. The 
  Computer orders these lucky PCs to report 
  to the Happy Fun Job Placement Center for 
  reassignment; see Chapter 4.
  Characteristics of 
  high-clearance life
  The lower clearances are qualitatively identical. 
  Sure, YELLOWs live in their own rooms and 
  eat tastier food than do REDs, but their daily 
  lives are broadly similar. The real change in 
  circumstances comes only when the character 
  crosses the wide social gulf from YELLOW 
  and lower (98% of the population) to GREEN 
  and higher (2% of the population). This is the 
  Alpha Complex equivalent of getting your 
  Oxford degree, your Harvard MBA, your 
  membership in the elite country club and keys 
  to the executive washroom.
  So what’s it like up there?
  ■ Efﬁ ciency?
  Once they reach GREEN Clearance or higher, 
  make your players think, ‘Wow, things are 
  working better!’ Then make them think, ‘Oh 
  no. Things are working better.’
  Clearance, to repeat, isn’t competence. 
  However, at higher clearances you can 
  locate and employ citizens who actually are 
  competent—assuming there are any.
  Classic-style PARANOIA presents 
  Alpha Complex as a ramshackle, trembling 
  bureaucracy suffocating in paperwork and 
  corruption. RED Clearance Troubleshooters 
  suspiciously open every assigned crate of 
  concussion grenades, expecting it instead to 
  hold 50 gross of lip gloss. This is part of the 
  quintessential PARANOIA atmosphere. In 
  Classic style, that is. At RED Clearance.
  But totalitarian governments are scary 
  partly because they can be brutally efﬁ cient. 
  As your PCs rise in clearance and draw 
  closer to the workings of power, you can 
  maintain their fear and ignorance by steadily 
  increasing, or rather highlighting, the system’s 
  efﬁ ciency. IntSec becomes bracingly efﬁ cient 
  at placing them under protective surveillance. 
  Underlings are startlingly alert in apprehending 
  any ‘intruder’ (actually a PC’s secret society 
  superior) and conﬁ scating his ‘contraband’ 
  (the package he was dropping off for the PC). 
  The Computer may track a PC’s whereabouts 
  with frightening accuracy and record it with 
  frustrating permanence.
  The spotlight: One way to simulate this—only 
  occasionally!—is to place each PC at the 
  center of his own personal mobile zone of high 
  Tension. Increase the current scene’s speciﬁ ed 
  Tension number up to a ‘spotlight’ level based 
  on the highest-clearance PC: GREEN, 10; 
  BLUE, 12; INDIGO, 14; VIOLET, 16. Won’t the 
  Free Enterprise thugs love that when the PCs 
  duck down the sewer to the IR Market!
  Do this only rarely, when you want to keep 
  the players in line for a while. If you keep them 
  under this spotlight constantly, they’ll feel too 
  constrained to do anything treasonous.
  ■ Glamour?
  Vidshows that cater to the lower clearances 
  show ravenous interest in the doings of the 
  powerful. If you’re INDIGO and in some 
  interesting public position, like commander of 
  a Vulture Squadron, or if you’re VIOLET in any 
  case, vidshows want to know about you, your 
  quarters, what you eat, hobbies, gossip and so 
  on. Often they seek hints about how ordinary 
  citizens can rise to your lofty level.
  Each high-clearance citizen can pretty much 
  decide what media attention he receives. There 
  are no intrusive paparazzi in Alpha Complex, 
  for unwanted hounding or stalking is suicidal.
  Citizens who go for glamour ﬁ nd a whole 
  new world of parties, dinners, interviews, 
  panel discussions, premieres, award shows, 
  commemorative presentations, roasts, 
  community singalongs and launch ceremonies 
  for new warbots. Gloryhounds can go into 
  overdrive. The cycle from rising-new-sensation 
  to ﬂ avor-of-the-minute to legend-in-his-own-
  time to overexposed-sellout to checking-into-
  rehab ﬁ lls only a couple of wild months.
  Though TV vidstars are typically only 
  ORANGE Clearance, you can get a sense 
  of the life of high-clearance glamour from 
  the vidstar rules in the ORANGE section of 
  Chapter 4.
  ■ Love and childbirth?
  At GREEN Clearance you can stop taking 
  hormone suppressants. This requires ofﬁ cial 
  approval from HPD&MC; IntSec promptly 
  2. CHANGING CLEARANCE
  
  20
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  puts you under closer observation, and The 
  Computer informs your supervisor you may 
  start ﬂ ipping out. But experimenting with your 
  primal urges is, technically, legal. Love and 
  romance are not in themselves treasonous, 
  but obviously anything that interferes with 
  total loyalty to The Computer draws IntSec’s 
  strong suspicion.
  Actual childbirth and parenting are treasonous 
  at all clearances. If you get pregnant and 
  IntSec ﬁ nds out, ofﬁ cers administer a harmless 
  abortifacient—forcefully, if necessary. If the 
  baby is born before anyone ﬁ nds out, IntSec 
  conﬁ scates the infant and assigns it to be 
  raised in a random creche. In either case, the 
  parents are brainscrubbed. This threat offers 
  the same rich possibilities as does love for 
  soap-opera melodrama. And if you’re looking 
  for a strong character motivation, a High 
  Programmer who maintains an illicit harem and 
  family in the Underplex will obviously do most 
  anything to conceal and protect them.
  From our perspective, the number of Alpha 
  Complex citizens who decide to let Nature take 
  its course is surprisingly low. Social pressure, 
  IntSec suspicion, lack of cooperative partners, 
  distaste for the inherent poor hygiene and 
  pervasive ignorance of ﬂ eshly pleasures—all 
  these make most citizens say, ‘Why bother?’
  Still more surprising, some who try it 
  subsequently resume taking suppressants 
  so they can think clearly again. Testosterone 
  and estrogen are such sledgehammer drugs, 
  you know?
  ■ Ambition!
  Most citizens between ORANGE and VIOLET 
  share a deeply felt goal: Get ahead. When they 
  hit GREEN, some of them relax. Others seem 
  to say, ‘I can almost see white from here.’ 
  These latter ambitious folks, if they’re shrewd, 
  plan ahead for the rise to ULTRAVIOLET. They 
  line up their own personal surveillance network, 
  they go on no-sleep drugs for weeks at a time 
  and they make connections in a dozen secret 
  societies.
  The most ambitious climbers start their own 
  program group.
  The PARANOIA rulebook describes program 
  groups as secret societies centered around 
  and supporting a single High Programmer. But 
  many of these groups started well before their 
  headman ever donned white robes. A program 
  group is just another conspiracy, as few as 
  half a dozen like-minded individuals—say, 
  a group of player characters—who agree to 
  advance their common interest. They need 
  neither charter nor manifesto, no passwords 
  or recognition signals. They all just corroborate 
  each other’s stories, recommend one another 
  for promotion and share interesting tidbits 
  of blackmail material. Often one charismatic 
  individual unites them, a pack alpha who will 
  become patron to the rest. In other cases there 
  is continual tension over which one of the 
  group will win through to UV. (And it’s only one, 
  always. Whoever reaches ULTRAVIOLET ﬁ rst 
  takes steps to ensure no one else joins him.)
  Rising exposes your 
  soft underbelly
  Low-clearance citizens (and players) nurture 
  the fond illusion, promulgated incessantly by 
  HPD&MC’s glamorous vidshow proﬁ les of the 
  rich and famous, that high-clearance citizens 
  enjoy a safer and more secure life, where 
  paranoia is lessened and life is more stable. Let 
  your players ﬁ nd out the truth for themselves, 
  the hard way.
  High-clearance characters might get Access 
  increases (see page 23) and learn their way 
  around the bureaucracy. In that sense, life at 
  high clearances really is better. But they don’t 
  get more skills. They get more and better 
  equipment, but they don’t necessarily know 
  how to use it better. Sure, they can get the 
  training manuals—but who has time to read 
  them, let alone practice?
  Either in a series or a set of one-shots using 
  the alternate professions in this book, show 
  the players how high clearance brings with it a 
  range of issues they never knew as REDs....
  ■ Responsibility
  As citizens rise in clearance, they get more and 
  more responsibility. Think what this means for 
  Troubleshooters in particular. The Computer 
  dispatches low-clearance RED teams to take 
  out a nest of Commies in some remote sector, 
  or track down traitorous messages written on 
  cafeteria napkins. The Computer sends high-
  clearance teams to protect a CompNode from 
  assault by a squad of armed PURGE Machine 
  Empaths.
  Sure, these Troubleshooters face the threat 
  with better equipment than the REDs, and 
  probably higher Access. But skills?
  Troubleshooters at higher clearances 
  sometimes really are genuinely more 
  competent than their underlings. After all, they 
  have completed many missions successfully 
  to rise to their current lofty station. But more 
  likely, they’re simply best at backstabbing, 
  bootlicking and shuffling blame onto their 
  teammates. This can be self-perpetuating: 
  As the Troubleshooter rises, he may work 
  more often with lower-clearance teammates, 
  whom he can more easily (in theory) frame 
  or terminate. So the higher he is, the higher 
  he can go...
  ...Until he’s on an INDIGO team consisting 
  entirely of singleminded backstabbers and 
  bootlickers, and they have to defeat the 
  PURGE squad. Uh-oh.
  ■ Data burn
  The Troubleshooters are ﬁ nally cleared to read 
  the 160-page operating manual, but...
  The Computer: Team leader, you are 56 
  seconds late for your assigned 
  engagement with the Communist 
  saboteurs. My records show you 
  have already received the plasma 
  generator you requested, as well 
  as the proper instruction manual. 
  Please report.
  Team leader: Sorry, Friend Computer! Our 
  equipment ofﬁ cer is still trying to 
  ﬁ gure out the weapon’s, uh— what 
  is it—?
  Equipment guy: [absently, while leaﬁ ng 
  frantically through index] Ion 
  Resonance Potential control.
  Team leader: Apparently if we adjust it 
  properly, we enhance the range by 
  20 percent. But if we do it wrong—
  uh, I mean, we want to make 
  sure we’re treating our assigned 
  equipment properly!
  The Computer: That is commendable, 
  team leader. To expedite your 
  assault, which is now one minute 
  and 14 seconds behind schedule, I 
  suggest you bring the manual along 
  and follow its instructions onsite. 
  If circumstances force you to the 
  ultimate sacriﬁ ce in combat with 
  the Communist menace, please 
  ensure the manual is destroyed 
  before falling into enemy hands. 
  Step lively, now!
  ■ Unreliable data checking
  If competent people remain at lower clearance, 
  they can’t oversee the important high-clearance 
  stuff. Who does that leave for fact-checking?
  Say the Troubleshooters really do read the 
  160-page manual. They quickly realize the 
  people who assembled it were R&D techs 
  who can’t express their abstruse ideas in plain 
  language for non-techie ordinary folks. The 
  scientists could have used good editors—but 
  the editors were overworked ORANGE tech 
  
  21
  I NEED TO KNOW WHETHER YOU NEED TO KNOW WHETHER I KNOW.
  OPTIONAL RULES
  writers who didn’t understand the material and 
  never had good access to the relevant Subject 
  Matter Experts. No one noticed the inadequacy 
  of the manual, because no one before the PCs 
  was sufﬁ ciently high-clearance to see it.
  Customer support? We’re sorry, that’s 
  been outsourced to a call center manned by 
  reprogrammed scrubots.
  ■ Feckless, duplicitous 
  underlings (FDUs)
  This is the killer. When the PCs ﬁ nally reach 
  the higher clearances and expect action 
  from their contemptible underlings, remind 
  the players constantly how they themselves 
  acted back when they were REDs. Delight in 
  their shudders!
  To illustrate high-clearance life in the future 
  underground city, look to the past. Humorist 
  P. J. O’Rourke’s essay collection Holidays 
  in Hell (New York: Atlantic Monthly Press, 
  1988) includes ‘In Whitest Africa’, about his 
  1986 encounter with the white-supremacist 
  apartheid regime. ‘I was pretty drunk myself 
  by the time I’d been in South Africa for three 
  or four weeks. [...] I was fuddled. My head 
  boiled with cliches. I was getting used to 
  being confused. [...] I was becoming South 
  African—used to having people all around me 
  all the time doing everything for me and not 
  doing it well.’
  O’Rourke visits a toney whites-only restaurant 
  on the Garden Route: ‘[W]hen I sat down at my 
  table there were three teaspoons, two water 
  glasses, one dirty wine glass, no forks, no 
  knives and no napkin. “I need a dinner fork, 
  a salad fork, a knife and a napkin,” I said to 
  the [black] waiter, who stared at me and then 
  headed out across the dining room at the 
  speed of a change in seasons. [...] He returned 
  with another spoon.
  ‘”I need a knife, a fork and a napkin!” I 
  said. He came back 20 minutes later with the 
  water pitcher and ﬁ lled my wine glass. “LOOK 
  HERE,” I said, “DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?” 
  He thought about that for a long time. “Oh, 
  yes.” He disappeared and came back in half an 
  hour with one more water glass. “Is the master 
  ready to order?”’
  ‘He was without recourse, voteless, 
  impoverished, unpropertied, not a legal citizen 
  in his own nation, yet he had reduced me to a 
  paroxysm of impotent drunken rage. I left him a 
  huge tip and ate my chicken with a spoon.’
  Optional clearance rules
  ■ Mission clearances
  Most published PARANOIA missions work 
  for basically any clearance. Even the group 
  in The YELLOW Clearance Black Box Blues, 
  or the mixed-clearance groups in Send 
  in the Clones and Alpha Complexities (all 
  collected in PARANOIA Flashbacks), take 
  few actions speciﬁ c to their clearances. In 
  some missions The Computer dispatches 
  RED Troubleshooters to change a light bulb; 
  in others they must save Alpha Complex from 
  imminent destruction. The clearance of the 
  player group is irrelevant.
  Now that your PCs can be any clearance, 
  you may ﬁ nd it fun to designate a given mission 
  as requiring a particular clearance or higher. 
  This indicates the mission’s importance to The 
  Computer. A bulb replacement errand is still 
  RED; forestalling complex-wide catastrophe is 
  BLUE or INDIGO; removing a body from a High 
  Programmer’s mansion is VIOLET.
  This concept can lead to all kinds of ﬁ ddly 
  corner cases—what happens if their clearances 
  fall in the middle of a mission, blah blah—that 
  are completely boring. Skip these. If they keep 
  arising, drop this rule. We may mention likely 
  clearances for future published PARANOIA 
  missions, if we remember, but it doesn’t really 
  matter, you know?
  ■ Need to know
  If you’re a BLUE Clearance service firm 
  executive in Tech Services, does that give 
  you the right to wander into a BLUE Clearance 
  2. CHANGING CLEARANCE
  Internal Security station and browse their 
  records? Try it and see. We’ll wait.
  Didn’t work, did it? Good thing they didn’t lock 
  you up. Don’t worry, you have your own docbot 
  now, so your bruises will heal fast.
  When all the PCs were low-clearance 
  nobodies, you could briskly assign unreachably 
  high clearance to anything you wanted, as part 
  of your essential duty to ration information. Now 
  that PCs can be anything up to VIOLET, you 
  need another tool to keep them from learning 
  too much. That tool is ‘need to know’.
  The Computer or an authorized ofﬁ cial—
  which is to say, any NPC you want—may 
  designate specified information as need-
  to-know. This means those who seek this 
  information must demonstrate a clear, urgent, 
  compelling purpose in—note this vital point—in 
  the authorized ofﬁ cial’s judgment.
  ‘Need to know’ means, not the need of the 
  requesting player, but the ofﬁ cial’s need—the 
  information’s need, if you will. Suppose a team 
  of BLUE Troubleshooters becomes annoyed 
  with a YELLOW Tech Services manager who 
  can’t tell them why their assigned equipment, 
  freshly ofﬂ oaded from a transbot, has arrived 
  in a radioactive condition. They decide to 
  access the transbot routes themselves, and 
  cross-index them with locations of local nuclear 
  plants. The Troubleshooters are BLUE; the 
  information they seek is YELLOW; no problem, 
  right?
  Problem! The Computer interrupts the PCs’ 
  data search to inform them the location of 
  nuclear power plants is sensitive information, 
  restricted on a need-to-know basis to authorized 
  Tech Services technicians and repair crews. 
  Transbots are ordered to avoid all power plants, 
  but because they can’t be told where the plants 
  are, mistakes happen. Unfortunately, the log 
  of mistakes, though cleared GREEN, is also 
  need-to-know, Tech Services Internal Affairs 
  investigators only.
  Science ﬁ ction writer William Gibson said, 
  ‘Information wants to be free.’ In Alpha 
  Complex information wants to serve The 
  Computer’s idea of public good. If it doesn’t, 
  only a traitor would need to know it.
  Typical mission types by clearance
  RED
  Mineﬁ eld sweeping, terminating berserk scrubots, vehicular crash safety testing, cleanup at biohazard sites, target practice for UVs who shoot fruit off people’s heads.
  ORANGE
  Terminating traitors, terminating berserk docbots, terminating escaped R&D lab creations, terminating Death Leopards, terminating RED Clearance Troubleshooters.
  YELLOW
  Bodyguards for a vidstar, terminating berserk warbots, breaking up Sierra Club meetings, ﬁ eld-testing especially cool weapons (that actually work at times).
  GREEN
  Stopping a plot to poison a sector’s B3 supply, disposing of Commie leaﬂ ets, foiling PURGE, terminating Psion agents, don’t let that reactor melt down.
  BLUE
  Extended Outdoors missions, taking out important Free Enterprise or FCCC-P agents who aren’t ‘cooperative’, disarming 50-megaton warheads.
  INDIGO
  Inﬁ ltrating a Frankenstein Destroyer cabal or enemy complex bent on crashing The Computer, preventing the Moon from hitting the Earth, terminating extraterrestrials.
  VIOLET
  They could tell you, but then they’d have to kill you.
  Thanks to David Boyle for this list.
  
  22
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  High-clearance PC creation checklist
  7. Security clearance: You decide.
  For the most part, creating a player character who starts out at a high clearance is much like creating an ordinary RED Clearance Troubleshooter 
  character, as described in the PARANOIA rulebook. This ﬂ owchart shows the mandatory deviations from that standard.
  Page numbers in the center line of boxes refer to the original PARANOIA rulebook.
  1. NAME/ 
  GENDER
  PG.16
  2. SKILLS/
  SPECIALTIES
  PG.18
  3. SERVICE
  FIRM
  PG.21
  5. SECRET 
  SOCIETY
  PG.23
  4. MUTANT 
  POWER
  PG.23
  8. ATTRIBUTES
  PG.27
  6. PERVERSITY/ 
  TICS
  PG.26
  7. SECURITY 
  CLEARANCE
  PG.26
  9. EQUIPMENT
  PG.28
  1. Name and gender: As in the PARANOIA rulebook.
  2. Skills: As in the rulebook, with the exception of the 
  vital specialty. All Troubleshooter characters still have 
  the vital specialty Energy Weapons, equal to Violence 
  rating plus 4. They retain this specialty even if they later 
  leave the Troubleshooters for a non-Troubleshooter 
  job.
  Characters created fresh for a non-Troubleshooter 
  position start with a different vital specialty, determined 
  by the position (see below). Like Energy Weapons for 
  Troubleshooter characters, the PC’s vital specialty is 
  mandatory, doesn’t count against  his six common 
  specialties and doesn’t require a corresponding 
  weakness. The starting rating equals the governing 
  skill rating plus 4. (These characters can still take 
  Energy Weapons in addition to their vital specialty, if 
  you allow it.)
  The vital specialty for vidshow stars: Disguise. For 
  assistant retail sales managers: Moxie. For EDRT 
  members: varies by character’s assigned team role. 
  For IntSec BLUE troopers: Intimidation. For VIOLET 
  executives: High Alert (which, to clarify, isn’t ‘danger 
  sense’, but rather knowledge of common schemes, 
  traps, con games, ambushes, etc.).
  3–4. Service ﬁ rm, mutant power: As in the rulebook.
  5. Secret society: Determine secret society and 
  Secret skills normally. Society degree isn’t the same as 
  clearance rank, but high clearance usually does bring 
  more inﬂ uence in one’s society, with a few exceptions. 
  Straight: Increase the PC’s degree by 3 for each 
  clearance above RED (maximum 19). For instance, a 
  GREEN character would have degree 10 [starting degree 
  of 1 + (3 clearance ranks above RED x 3) = 10].
  Classic: As Straight, but each clearance rank is worth 
  2 degrees, not 3. Or it’s worth 1. Really, whatever you 
  like.
  Zap: Roll 1d20 to determine degree.
  8. Attributes: Determine Power as in the rulebook. 
  The easiest way to handle Access is to set it equal to 
  secret society degree. It’s not that all Access springs 
  from one’s secret society; rather, it’s just a convenient 
  coincidence that makes your life easier.
  6. Perversity points: As in the rulebook.
  9. Equipment: The PC’s starting personal equipment 
  includes the appropriate color of jumpsuit and boots, 
  Personal Digital Companion with built-in camera and 
  stylus, and ME Card (identity/credit card). Troubleshooter 
  characters start with the properly colored laser pistol 
  (without barrel) and reﬂ ec overalls. They start with credits 
  equal to a month’s salary (see Chapter 4 of the rulebook). 
  Encourage players to buy lots more stuff on the various 
  Equipment Charts in the rulebook (pp. 48, 229–30, 247), 
  in this book and from the ﬁ ne supplement STUFF.
  
  23
  THE VULTURE WARRIOR BEATING YOU IS PROVIDED FOR YOUR PROTECTION.
  CHECKLIST/ACCESS
  2. CHANGING CLEARANCE
  About Access
  The Access attribute isn’t security clearance. Access represents a character’s insider info, powerful contacts and hard-won experience. 
  High security clearance doesn’t, in itself, get you that stuff—but it sure helps. With this supplement, your players may now plausibly gain 
  Access that forces us Famous Game Designers to ﬁ nally ﬁ gure out what it means.
  In general, a promotion in clearance will improve a character’s Access so long as he (a) has sufﬁ cient time in the new clearance to learn 
  the ways and means of getting by—call it a week or two, barring odd circumstances—and (b) knows someone with good Access who is 
  willing to teach the secret handshakes, who to talk to when the ofﬁ ce CoffeeLike machine breaks, etc.
  This kind of samizdat data changes by the week, so if the character drops to a lower clearance, feel free to cut Access back down to a 
  rating more in keeping with the lower rank.
  So what kind of things can Access help with? Here are some representative tasks by Access rating. Some of them may sound more like 
  Hardware or Management rolls than Access rolls. Those still work, if you want them to, but Access represents a different way of accomplishing 
  the same task—not using a screwdriver or fast-talk, but a mutual acquaintance’s name, an obscure regulation or a completed form.
  Access rating
  Tasks within reach
  1–2
  Operating a confession booth. (1)
  Knowing a guy who knows a guy who can ﬁ nd the IR Market this week. (2)
  One-time access to a particular Gray Subnet (a covert, independent, highly illegal data network). (2)
  3–4
  Knowing an IR Marketeer slightly less corrupt than usual. (3)
  Getting a hack (autocar taxi) late in a shift. (4)
  Halfway-reliable access to a particular Gray Subnet at some particular place and time of day. (4)
  5–6
  Getting a broken showerhead replaced without undue stress. (5)
  De-activating a confession booth’s lie detector. (6)
  Getting the WAKEYTYME airhorn in your quarters ‘repaired’ (disabled). (6)
  7–8
  Getting your own booth at the IR Market and knowing which IntSec guards to bribe. (7)
  Safely de-activating the surveillance equipment in your quarters for a speciﬁ ed interval. (8)
  Reliable access to a particular Gray Subnet, anywhere and any time. (8)
  9–10
  Hearing ahead of time when IntSec will be doing a purge or a surprise inspection in your area. (9)
  De-activating a confession booth’s sedation and conﬁ nement mechanisms. (10)
  11–12
  Tapping into the surveillance feed from quarters of the same or lower clearance for a speciﬁ ed interval. (11)
  Having good blackmail material on an IR Marketeer and not getting killed. (12)
  Reliable access to a wide range of Gray Subnets, or to the customer records of C-Bay or another auction site. (12)
  13–14
  Getting past the front desk guards at the Bright Vision Re-education Center. (13)
  Tapping the surveillance feed from quarters of higher clearance for a speciﬁ ed (very short) interval. (14)
  15–16
  De-activating a confession booth’s IntSec alert and termination mechanisms. (15)
  Getting past the front troops at Internal Security HQ. (16)
  Running your own Gray Subnet or aucton site. (16)
  17–18
  Having Teela-O’s number on your PDC’s speed-dial. (17)
  A High Programmer might owe you a favor or be your poker buddy. (18)
  Easy access to the inner workings of any given Gray Subnet or auction site. (18)
  19–20
  Learning the current passphrase (changes once every ten minutes), recognition code (changes once per minute) 
  and required bribe (changes based on your perceived wealth) to enter this sector’s Central CompNode. (19)
  Knowing the formula for Bouncy Bubble Beverage. (20)
  Thanks to David Boyle and Jas Strong for help with this list.
  
  24
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  3. Real estate
  In a closed underground society carved from 
  thick rock, real estate is understandably at a 
  premium. Citizens squabble bitterly over the 
  best housing available at their clearance. At 
  lower clearances choice housing rarely meets 
  roach motel standards, despite (or because of) 
  all the talk about hygiene. Cramped quarters, 
  punitive roommates and shabby appliances 
  make citizens prize privacy and quality all 
  the more.
  RED Clearance housing
  Tension level 4
  WANTED: Roommate to share modest room in FDS 
  Sector with four other clones. AC works, transtube 
  station just around corner. Includes bed, sheets and 
  lower bunk. Close to cafeteria and entertainment 
  lounge. C-mail derick@RED.nng.plc.
  RED housing beats INFRARED dorms, but 
  not by much. The communal barracks for 
  INFRARED citizens have given way to a large 
  room ﬁ lled with ﬁ ve beds: two bunk beds and 
  one single bed. REDs see the single bed as 
  more prestigious than the bunks. Fights have 
  broken out over who gets the single bed, but 
  usually the citizen with the most strength or 
  blackmail takes the prize. Each bed comes with 
  one footlocker with a digital lock that opens to a 
  citizen’s tongueprint. These locks are as easy 
  to pick as your own nose, and they’re designed 
  that way because The Computer doesn’t trust 
  the RED citizens with places to hide stuff.
  Besides the beds and footlockers, RED 
  rooms have one rickety chair, a battered plastic 
  shelving unit, an inspirational wall poster, a 
  single exposed light bulb and several security 
  cameras and hidden microphones. 
  HPD&MC tries to locate RED housing 
  near transtubes, elevators and escalators 
  to shorten the distance between home 
  and work. However, they must balance 
  commute time distances with proximity to 
  cafeterias, entertainment lounges and other 
  RED Clearance areas. The end result: RED 
  quarters can be found almost anywhere, but 
  they are usually next door to one of the above. 
  RED citizens often complain about the noise 
  from transbots, the smell from cooking soylent 
  or the bass from entertainment lounge videos. 
  (But not for long—The Computer quickly busts 
  anyone who complains about being a RED 
  back down to INFRARED.)
  Within the habitat hierarchy, RED citizens 
  rank even below INFRAREDs in repair and 
  maintenance priorities. This is because 
  there are so many more INFRAREDs; it’s 
  not a slight so much as a nod to the sheer 
  numbers of INFRARED drones. Some REDs 
  deal with this inequality by adopting a high-
  handed, magnanimous attitude that mirrors 
  their superiors’ stance towards them: ‘Of 
  course INFRAREDs must be prioritized in 
  these instances; those poor people are the 
  backbone of our society. I say let them get the 
  assistance they so dearly need!’ RED citizens 
  are expected to deal with minor problems 
  better than INFRARED citizens. So when the 
  air cycling unit breaks and the room starts to 
  smell like a damp sock...get used to it, RED.
  Still, RED housing lends itself to treason: 
  Being on the back end of the repair schedule 
  means that broken cameras stay broken for a 
  long time. The Tension level hovers around 
  4, so as long as the roommates are gone, 
  it’s time to break out those comic books for 
  a quick read. 
  Where would a RED citizen hide those comic 
  books from his roommates? Traditionally, in 
  the mattress. RED mattresses are recycled 
  plastic foam packing materials wrapped in a 
  polyurethane bag, and a quick slice with a knife 
  allows lots of stuff to be put inside safely and 
  without noticeable bulges. 
  ORANGE Clearance  
  housing
  Tension level 6
  WANTED: Looking for clone to share room. You 
  pick which bed and dresser is yours. Elevator and 
  shopping nearby. Vents clear of blockage and room 
  stays warm. Bathroom only shared by 15! C-mail 
  joanna@ORANGE.itr.armf with offers.
  Things start to improve. ORANGE citizens 
  share a moderately-sized room with only one 
  other ORANGE citizen: the dreaded roommate. 
  When only two people share a bedroom, they 
  focus much more on each other’s faults and 
  annoying habits. Ask any ORANGE citizen 
  whom they secretly hate the most, and most 
  will name their roommate. 
  Yet because utopias frown upon strife, 
  citizens cannot openly hate their roommates 
  — plus there’s still plenty of surveillance in that 
  room. Soon enough, the two roomies settle into 
  by Bill O’Dea
  ■ Tension levels in your 
  quarters
  Your room’s Tension level increases as 
  you rise in clearance. The Computer 
  trusts you more, and wants to protect 
  its reliable citizens from the traitorous 
  rabble outside your door. Clearly, 
  quality surveillance provides the best 
  protection. 
  Consequently, most perspicacious 
  high-clearance citizens learn the ins and 
  outs of room surveillance. The ﬁ rst thing 
  they do—and you should do—when 
  moving into new quarters is rewire the 
  cameras and install non-treasonous 
  vidloops.
  Alternately, you can go the official 
  route. Try convincing The Computer you 
  don’t need the video protection, or the 
  surveillance is compromising your work 
  on The Computer’s behalf. You may be 
  allowed to shut off the cameras.
  But make such requests prudently: 
  Sometimes The Computer makes it 
  its mission to protect you all the more. 
  It may ask PLC to install additional 
  cameras in your room, just to watch 
  the other, suspect cameras. It may bug 
  your appliances and clothing. It may 
  send a scrubot escort decked out with 
  industrial cleaning ordnance. It may set a 
  grumbling, 24-hour Vulture Guard watch 
  just inside your door.
  Alternately, The Computer may 
  completely withdraw protection, leaving 
  you without resources should you 
  actually need them:
  Dave-B: Computer, please send 
  immediate backup; our forces 
  are being overwhelmed by 
  the mutant insurrection in 
  Sector GHL.
  Computer: I’m sorry, Dave-B. I can’t do 
  that. The real Dave-B warned 
  me that all protective measures 
  may be compromised. Please 
  optimize the forces currently 
  at your disposal. Out.
  — Beth Fischi
  
  25
  SEARCH FOR ‘TREASON’ GENERATED 9,324,656,454 RESULTS. DISPLAYING 1–10:
  3. LIVING CONDITIONS
  a cold war of passive aggressive battles. Does 
  he hate the smell of Hot Fun? Hot Fun Party in 
  my room! Does she fold her spare jumpsuit with 
  meticulous care? Oops—accidentally knocked 
  it off the shelf and onto the dirty ﬂ oor!
  Rooms come equipped with a pair of single 
  beds, a small closet, a cheap dresser for 
  each citizen and an audio feed for Computer-
  approved music and advertising jingles. A 
  scorched plastic, mildly decorative shade 
  usually covers the light ﬁ xture, and a folding 
  chair may sit in the corner. A bathroom is 
  never more than a few minutes’ walk away. 
  Ah, luxe!
  In general, environmental conditions 
  compare favorably to RED rooms, but are still 
  suboptimal. Temperature is set by averaging 
  a block of rooms together. Newly promoted 
  ORANGE citizens ﬁ nd themselves assigned 
  to the ‘cold room’ or the ‘hothouse’. The 
  transtube is closer than with RED rooms, and 
  the occasional autohack swings by. 
  Treason is harder to commit in an ORANGE 
  room, but not unheard of. Cameras are still 
  broken or unpowered, but roommates always 
  look for something to call The Computer about. 
  Rooms have no footlockers or other storage 
  with locks, so ORANGE citizens hide illegal 
  items under their clean socks in their dresser. 
  Why not the dirty ones? They used to do 
  that, but it became so commonplace IntSec 
  started snifﬁ ng for dirty socks when conducting 
  Surprise Joyful Inspections.
  YELLOW Clearance housing
  Tension level 8
  JUST PROMOTED! Take advantage of this offer! 
  Clean & maintained single-room unit with bed, 
  closet and private terminal. Shared washroom two 
  doors down. Autohacks on-wait one level below! 
  INFRARED cleaners each month! tanya@YELLOW.
  wss.tech
  Finally, a clone can be by himself! Well, himself 
  and the hidden cameras. A citizen at YELLOW 
  Clearance gets a room that’s slightly smaller 
  than his ORANGE room, but at least he’s the 
  only one authorized to live there. The typical 
  YELLOW room has a bed with a mattress 
  and pillow made from real synthetic foam, a 
  relatively comfortable chair, a desk, a dresser, 
  a table lamp and a closet big enough for a 
  clone to stand in. 
  Wall posters have given way to framed 
  pictures of famous FunBall stars or dramatic 
  sector landscapes. While there’s no thermostat 
  in the room, temperatures remain relatively 
  comfortable. But perhaps the biggest glory, 
  the one item most prized by YELLOW citizens, 
  is the light switch. At lower clearances, the 
  ceiling lights turn on and off according to 
  curfew mandates. Having a glow coming from 
  an ORANGE room after hours draws IntSec 
  agents like scrubots to dirt. Not so for YELLOW 
  rooms, where a citizen can switch the lights on 
  and off as he sees ﬁ t. The ﬁ rst Tech Services 
  repair call for a new YELLOW citizen’s room 
  is inevitably wear-and-tear on the light switch. 
  Hence Tech Services’ most dreaded job 
  assignment: the Light Switch Division.
  One big perk at this level is a private 
  terminal. Because YELLOW citizens have 
  greater need to access AlphaNet and The 
  Computer, they are allowed one monitor, one 
  keyboard, one connection to AlphaNet and 
  27 pieces of spyware to monitor their every 
  digital move. Speaking of being monitored, 
  these rooms are where smart traitors are 
  separated from stupid ones. Having a room 
  of one’s own entices the obtuse to more 
  open treason, despite the working, upgraded 
  hidden cameras in the ceiling and walls. 
  Some citizens crumble to temptation and start 
  composing their Communist Party leaﬂ ets at 
  the provided woodlike desk. These clones 
  don’t stay YELLOW without some terriﬁ c dirt 
  on a supervisor. 
  The bathroom is still shared, but this 
  time between only four YELLOW citizens. 
  Rooms are laid out in mini cul-de-sacs: the 
  corridor ends at the door to the bathroom, 
  and two doors line either wall away from the 
  bathroom. These clusters are always placed 
  near transtube stations and autohack stands; 
  sometimes close enough to feel the bots pick 
  up and drop off citizens. The four YELLOW 
  neighbors are usually called Fellow YELLOWs 
  and they often spend time together after work 
  in Activity Clubs and FunBall matches.
  For YELLOW citizens who have risen above 
  their peers through hard work, loyalty and 
  well-placed bribes, a single INFRARED citizen 
  is sent by to clean the room once per week. 
  These maids are heavily drugged and almost 
  never bribed by jealous Fellow YELLOWs to 
  plant evidence of treason inside the room.
  GREEN Clearance housing
  Tension level 10
  UPPER CVN SECTOR 1-bedroom avail. immed. 
  in 40-unit bldg. Includes bath, lvg room & w-2-w 
  carpeting. Mark 7 housebot in-unit. Four autocars 
  for owner use, private laundry. http://GREEN.
  cvnrealty.hpd.cvn/vacancies.
  Now we can stop referring to housing as a 
  room. At GREEN Clearance, a citizen gets 
  an honest-to-goodness apartment, complete 
  with bedroom, bathroom, eat-in kitchen, even 
  a small living room. Assigned furnishings have 
  improved as well: comfortable beds, indirect 
  lighting, a private vidscreen and terminal, a 
  Hot Beverage Dispenser (featuring CoffeeLike, 
  TeaSir or HappyKaff) and even a comfy sofa 
  with matching chair. 
  For the ﬁ rst time, a citizen will feel something 
  beneath his feet besides plasticrete; wall-to-
  wall carpeting in subdued earth-tones is in 
  every room, even the kitchen. (Which means 
  that GREEN citizen had better be careful when 
  getting his morning cup of TeaSir, or he’ll 
  pay for damages.) There’s even a washing 
  machine and clothes dryer in the apartment. 
  GREENs are housed in apartment blocks 
  located near entertainment and shopping. 
  These blocks range in size from small 
  three-unit ‘greenstones’ to monolithic 80-unit 
  structures that pierce through so many levels 
  that the bottom and top units may be in 
  different sectors. Larger buildings have private 
  autocars for residents’ use, but all have a ﬂ eet 
  of autohacks waiting in line outside.
  But all is not perfect in the GREEN 
  apartments. The walls between apartments 
  can be very thin, especially in the larger 
  buildings. Sometimes you don’t need to bug 
  your neighbor’s apartment; just put a glass 
  against the wall and listen. And while many 
  flats have private autocars that residents 
  can sign out and use individually, citizens 
  always risk bearing responsibility for the 
  previous user’s misdemeanors. Borrowers are 
  supposed to log what the autocar was used for, 
  but the chances of a GREEN citizen writing, 
  But perhaps the biggest glory, the one item most 
  prized by YELLOW citizens, is the light switch.
  
  26
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  ‘Borrowed the silver R-Type EX to make my 
  Sierra Club meeting on time’ are, uh, slim. 
  Lastly, there’s the housebot. As a reward 
  for such loyal and industrious behavior, The 
  Computer assigns a housebot to every GREEN 
  apartment. This is a modiﬁ ed scrubot that 
  cleans, microwaves meals, does the laundry 
  and other simple household tasks. It also 
  records everything it sees and hears using a 
  bewildering array of sensors. Ostensibly, this 
  is to protect the GREEN citizen from crime. In 
  reality, it’s so his BLUE superiors can keep a 
  good eye on him. 
  BLUE citizens use any treason committed 
  in front of the housebot—or at least within 
  the scope of the housebot’s infrared and 
  subsonic sensors—to blackmail the GREEN 
  into compliance or to bust him back down if 
  he gets too pushy. Funny how Tech Services’ 
  Bot Retrieval Division gets lots of calls to repair 
  housebots that have accidentally fallen down 
  elevator shafts. The sheer number of calls 
  causes complex-wide bot replacement delays. 
  Generously, GREEN citizens rarely inveigh 
  against these service delays.
  BLUE Clearance housing
  Tension level 12
  LUXURY penthouse avail. in exclusive NNG 
  subsector. 2-bed, 2-bath, formal dining rm, 
  stainless steel appliances. J-Type autocar, bot 
  staff & YELLOW programmer included. Private 
  entry/exit, ﬂ ybot landing, restaurant. Visit http://
  BLUE.bluerooms.hpd.nng/luxury for pictures and 
  community rules.
  You can’t call anything this nice an apartment; 
  only the word ‘suite’ will do. The Computer 
  assigns BLUE citizens luxury suites in a 
  subsector renowned for being safe, clean and 
  home to the Alpha Complex élite. Though 
  unnecessary, these suites usually have two 
  bedrooms and two bathrooms. They also 
  have a spacious living room with a decent 
  entertainment center, a dining room with a 
  table made from mostlywood, walk-in closets, 
  a full kitchen with stainless steel appliances 
  and, most importantly, a thermostat. BLUE 
  citizens can make their homes as hot or as 
  cold as they want.
  BLUE suites are located near each other, 
  with a central BLUE Clearance area as a hub. 
  This hub can be anything not directly related 
  to service ﬁ rm work, such as a restaurant, 
  vidscreen theater or ﬁ tness center. Carpeting, 
  hand-laid tile and marble fountains, along 
  with framed art and sculptures, compete for 
  the attention of style-conscious citizens. An 
  elegant spiral staircase connects the two or 
  three ﬂ oors that comprise the suite. This is 
  the life.
  Except for the suspicious bots zipping 
  around everywhere. 
  Each BLUE citizen is assigned one YELLOW 
  bot programmer and several bots to serve his 
  needs. His experience as a GREEN citizen 
  installed a fear of household bots, and now 
  he’s got several of the things clanking about. A 
  BLUE citizen feels a prisoner in his own home, 
  hiding in the downstairs bedroom because the 
  bots are mucking about in the kitchen. At least 
  the YELLOW programmer lives separately 
  some distance away and can be sent on 
  errands all the time.
  By this clearance, a citizen has a solid 
  understanding of the hidden camera situation 
  in Alpha Complex housing. Although there are 
  still many working cameras and microphones 
  in a BLUE residence, the occupant has 
  rewired them into prerecorded loops featuring 
  treason-free behavior. BLUE suites would be 
  hotbeds of treason were it not for the bots and 
  YELLOW programmer lurking about. So while 
  the suite’s Tension level is high, this applies 
  only to visitors or burglars. 
  Each suite comes with its own high-end 
  autocar, and many have a hoverbot or ﬂ ybot 
  landing on the roof. However, these are 
  technically bots, so a lot of BLUE citizens 
  walk to work—with a heavy security detail, 
  of course.
  INDIGO Clearance housing
  Tension level 14
  HEART OF AAA SECTOR residence. 20-room 
  corridor with labs, exercise room, pvt PLC store, 
  guardbots, human servants. Bay windows & 
  balcony w/view of picturesque Hall of Records 
  and Files. Chauffeur & limobot, chef, security detail 
  on-call 24/7. Visit http://INDIGO.inresidences.hpd.
  aaa/residences for video of unit. 
  At this level, the difference between home 
  and Alpha Complex begins to blur. INDIGO 
  citizens are assigned an entire corridor of 
  rooms, sometimes up to 30 of them. With all 
  this space, an INDIGO often converts some 
  rooms to private work spaces; a bedroom might 
  be next door to a research lab, ﬁ ring range 
  or interrogation chamber. These residences 
  also include private stores, top-notch security 
  systems and a garage with several limobots 
  and human chauffeurs. 
  If the decor of a BLUE suite was opulent, this 
  is positively decadent. Marble ﬂ oors, Jacuzzis 
  and walk-in freezers are considered standard. 
  For the ﬁ rst time, a residence will have a view 
  of something inspiring and beautiful. (Heck, 
  just having a view is an upgrade.) To gain this 
  view, INDIGO corridors are located on the 
  edge of large, open areas in a sector. Given 
  the unique three-dimensional nature of Alpha 
  Complex construction, sometimes good views 
  require bay windows in the ﬂ oors. 
  One other decoration is notable: plants. For 
  the ﬁ rst time, a citizen can have plants from 
  the Outdoors in his residence. These need 
  to be well watered, fertilized and lit, but that’s 
  why the INDIGO has a staff. Some are bots, 
  specially designed and made for the INDIGO to 
  calm his fears of household bots, while others 
  are humans, usually ORANGE or YELLOW. If 
  a BLUE citizen has gotten around the hidden 
  camera issue, an INDIGO citizen has gotten 
  around the bot issue. Tension levels may vary 
  when the INDIGO is not there or has lower-
  clearance guests.
  Which is not often. In fact, the INDIGO lives 
  a lonely life. Despite such spacious living 
  quarters, even with the bot and human staff 
  around, he often lacks social partners. Other 
  INDIGOs feel the same way, so they spend 
  most of their time in exclusive, members-only 
  social clubs where they can enjoy a drink and 
  maybe a few rounds of Power Golf. INDIGOs 
  rarely stay home to enjoy their sizable 
  estates.
  When home, INDIGOs plot against BLUE 
  underlings and VIOLET supervisors. Resulting 
  run-ins with staff end in brainscrubs; INDIGOs 
  run through household staff like INFRAREDs 
  run through Cold Fun. Consequently, enemies 
  find ample opportunities to send in secret 
  agents disguised as new staff members. This is 
  the real reason the Tension level is so high—so 
  the INDIGO can monitor his own staff.
  VIOLET Clearance housing
  Tension level 16
  NO BOTS! Subsector N-12 rezoned for private 
  residence. Gardens with real plants, video theater, 
  rubber-ball courts, sub pen. Will redesign room 
  layout to suit. Current residents convert to staff 
  upon selection. Select now and receive one free 
  A perfect life…except 
  for the suspicious 
  bots zipping around 
  everywhere.
  
  27
  HOT FUN TO THE PEOPLE!
  3. LIVING CONDITIONS
  year of Vulture Squadron guards. http://VIOLET.
  acrealty.hpd.nct/subsectors. Serious inquiries 
  only.
  From rooms to apartments, from suites to 
  entire corridors, and now to something even 
  larger: an entire subsector, sometimes two 
  if they’re deemed too small for a VIOLET’s 
  needs. 
  A sector is divided into any number of 
  subsectors, depending on the size and 
  main business of the sector in question. The 
  Computer assigns a VIOLET a subsector 
  as his residence. It would be pointless to 
  count this residence by number of rooms or 
  even corridors, and many VIOLETs aren’t 
  even sure how many they have. Ironically, a 
  VIOLET residence is often less opulent than 
  even a BLUE citizen’s suite. There are just too 
  many rooms to decorate with statues, gurgling 
  fountains and exotic plants. 
  These residences are sectors unto 
  themselves, with private shopping malls, 
  factories, hydroponic gardens, submarine pens 
  ... if it exists, then chances are a VIOLET has a 
  private version. Transportation is notable only 
  for getting around the estate; when a VIOLET 
  sits down to work for the day, he makes the 
  work come to him. The only exception to 
  having it all lies in bots, which VIOLETs view 
  as being too low-clearance for them. GREEN 
  citizens may have bots zooming around their 
  residence, but a VIOLET is expected to show 
  a little more class.
  The Tension level in a VIOLET subsector 
  residence is unique. By virtue of being VIOLET, 
  the occupant can say and do almost anything 
  and not get in trouble. It’s assumed that they 
  have a very good reason for whatever they 
  happen to be saying or doing. But anyone of 
  a lower clearance, even INDIGO citizens, are 
  watched like hawkbots. Every move, phrase 
  and sometimes thought is recorded. This is to 
  protect the VIOLET from jealous citizens out 
  for their position. 
  In other words, VIOLET residences have 
  it all—and yet, many VIOLET citizens are 
  unhappy in their homes. Growing up in Alpha 
  Complex means living in close quarters with lots 
  of fellow citizens. There’s always someone to 
  talk to, eat with or accompany to the vidscreen 
  theater. Late at night, as the VIOLET citizen 
  walks through an empty FunBall stadium on his 
  way to a bedroom somewhere in the subsector, 
  he can feel very alone.
  That’s usually when the assassination 
  team strikes. VIOLET citizens are extremely 
  competitive and always scheme to knock out 
  the competition for High Programmer. Hacking 
  into security feeds is child’s play for a VIOLET 
  citizen to arrange, so they often keep tabs on 
  each other. If a VIOLET shows signs of being 
  too maudlin and depressed, the others worry 
  he’ll do something rash like treat the lower-
  clearance citizens with respect or question 
   Late at night, as the VIOLET citizen walks through 
  an empty FunBall stadium on his way to a bedroom 
  somewhere in the subsector, he can feel very alone.
  whether this whole Alpha Complex system is 
  unfair and needs drastic changes. And when 
  VIOLETs worry, someone gets terminated.
  Illustration by Beth Fischi, with elements from a Jim Holloway illustration
  
  28
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  4. Happy Fun Job Placement Center
  GREETINGS, CITIZEN! JOYOUS NEWS! IN 
  RECOGNITION OF YOUR SERVICE TO ALPHA 
  COMPLEX, YOUR FRIEND THE COMPUTER 
  HAS PROMOTED YOU TO A HIGHER SECURITY 
  CLEARANCE.
  YOU’RE WELCOME.
  AT YOUR NEW SECURITY CLEARANCE YOU WILL 
  PERFORM NEW DUTIES. TO DETERMINE YOUR 
  OPTIMAL CAREER OPPORTUNITY, PROCEED 
  IMMEDIATELY TO THE HAPPY FUN JOB PLACEMENT CENTER, CONVENIENTLY LOCATED 
  BETWEEN THE NEW BIOCHEMICAL RECLAMATION CENTER AND FOOD VAT SPECIAL SECTION 
  206. AFTER YOU ARRIVE, YOU WILL UNDERGO A PLEASANT BATTERY OF MARGINALLY INVASIVE 
  EXAMINATIONS DESIGNED BY HPD & MIND CONTROL TO DETERMINE HOW YOU CAN BEST SERVE 
  ALPHA COMPLEX AND CONTRIBUTE TO THE PUBLIC GOOD.
  YOU DO WANT TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE PUBLIC GOOD, DON’T YOU? EXCELLENT.
  REMEMBER, THE HIGHER YOU SCORE, THE MORE CHALLENGING YOUR NEW DUTIES. BECAUSE 
  I HAVE APPROVED ALL TESTING, REST ASSURED YOU WILL NEVER BE PLACED IN A POSITION 
  BEYOND YOUR CAPACITY OR YOUR TRAINING. NATURALLY, INCREASED RESPONSIBILITY WILL 
  BE REWARDED WITH COMMENSURATE COMPENSATION.
  HAVE A NICE DAY!
  Job placement: Ideal world
  Until that bright and shiny day when all citizens 
  are equally interchangeable, perpetually loyal 
  cogs, Citizen Placement Ofﬁ cers in HFJPC 
  match a job seeker’s abilities with the plethora 
  of career opportunities in Alpha Complex.
  Job candidates at the HFJPC are assigned a 
  Citizen Placement Ofﬁ cer (CPO). This case 
  worker does an intake interview with the ‘client’, 
  identiﬁ es his interests, then sends him out for 
  aptitude testing to verify his skill set. Upon his 
  return the CPO evaluates the test results and 
  matches the client with a suitable job. After 
  the newly employed citizen leaves, the CPO 
  neatly ﬁ les all interview notes and test results 
  under the client’s name. A candidate returning 
  to HFJPC goes back to the same CPO to take 
  advantage of their pre-established personal 
  relationship and procedural continuity, thus 
  increasing efﬁ ciency by minimizing the need 
  for knowledge transfer.
  That’s the way it’s supposed to work.
  Job placement: Real world
  When a player character approaches the 
  HFJPC for the ﬁ rst time, read this aloud:
  You enter the Happy Fun Job Placement 
  Center’s large crowded foyer. 20 
  meters in front of you is a shoulder-
  high counter with 16 windows, 15 of 
  which are sealed shut and covered in 
  dust. Overhead, a digital display reads 
  ‘Now Serving Number 2,231,428’. 
  Dozens of job candidates, both people 
  and bots, mill around listlessly.
  The PCs join a waiting line before an 
  enormous cubicle area. Beyond the cubicles 
  are corridors leading to specialized testing 
  areas. Winding rope handrails funnel the 
  job candidates in a snakelike line, near 
  the cubes... away from the cubes... near 
  employment... away from employment... it’s 
  like a ride. Occasionally one of the HFJPC 
  Citizen Placement Ofﬁ cers leaves his cube 
  and walks up the aisle with a small group of 
  job candidates he just found work for. Some 
  by Steve Gilbert
  
  29
  4. JOB CENTER
  ORIENTATION
  candidates look terriﬁ ed, pale, muttering ‘The Computer believes in 
  me’ over and over while clutching an appropriately colored Mandatory 
  Employment Form; others don’t take it so well. Fortunately, plenty of 
  Job Acceptance Bots (JABs) can escort unwillingly successful job 
  candidates to the exit door. JABs look a lot like combots, but with 
  painted smiley faces.
  Eventually the PCs make it to the front of the line. After ﬁ ve minutes an 
  ORANGE Citizen Placement Ofﬁ cer strolls up and asks the entire group 
  of PCs to come back with him for a little ‘get-to-know-you’ chat.
  Those who can’t work... give others work
  The turnover of Citizen Placement Officers almost rivals that of 
  Troubleshooters. The nice thing about working in HFJPC is, if a 
  really good job comes along you can take it for yourself. Because of 
  the rapid turnover your PCs are guaranteed never to see the same 
  Citizen Placement Ofﬁ cer twice... unless he is their boss at their next 
  assignment.
  But this doesn’t mean CPOs have it easy. CPOs are supposed to make 
  about 24 job placements per 12-hour work shift. That doesn’t sound too 
  bad – until you consider testing sometimes takes up to an hour. Tack on 
  an intake interview, biobreaks, snacky time, mandatory departmental 
  meetings, and, most important, time for his own personal job search (at 
  least 60% of each work shift), and a CPO has about 52 hours of work 
  to ﬁ t into a 12-hour shift. The solution: multitasking.
  Rather than see one client at a time, CPOs work with groups. For the 
  ‘get-to-know-you chat’ (intake interview), the CPO herds all PCs into 
  one tiny cubicle with two extra chairs. There the harried and perpetually 
  distracted CPO explains the function of the HFJPC and tells the players 
  he receives dozens of exciting job opportunities every day. The intake 
  interview can either be informal and conversational, or a series of rote 
  questions designed to size up the job candidates and judge how well 
  they’ll survive in the cut-and-slash world of middle management. As 
  the players speak, make them aware the CPO is recording all their 
  answers in their permanent record ﬁ le.
  Here’s a few easy sample questions, but feel free to make up 
  your own:
  � Tell me about yourself.
  � What’s your ideal job? Are you aware that the job you just named 
  is normally X security clearance? Would you be willing to do 
  that job if we did not give you a corresponding bump in security 
  clearance? How about if we demoted you? So when you said 
  this was ideal, what did you really mean? Is The Computer ideal? 
  Would you describe Commies as the ‘ideal’ menace? Why or 
  why not? If not, who do you think is the ideal menace? Have 
  you told Internal Security about this yet?
  � What do you think is your greatest asset that differentiates 
  you from the other job candidates? Have you always been 
  different? How does that make you feel? What other ways are 
  you different? Are all differences bad? Give me an example 
  of a good and a bad difference in yourself... how about in the 
  clone to your left... what about me... The Computer? Interesting 
  answers, I may have some different testing for you. 
  � What is your biggest ﬂ aw? I’m sorry, saying you work ‘too hard’ 
  is simply rephrasing an asset; please do not avoid questions... 
  What is your biggest ﬂ aw? What is your second-biggest ﬂ aw? 
  What is your fourth-biggest ﬂ aw? And your third?... No, I’m sorry 
  I can’t accept that answer; I think your fourth biggest is worse 
  than that, but I will note that one also. Please try again: What is 
  your third-biggest ﬂ aw? Wrong. Trust me, citizen, when I say I 
  have full and complete records on the screen in front of me now... 
  Once again, what is your third-biggest ﬂ aw?
  � How many secret societies can you name? Don’t you pay attention 
  to The Computer’s frequent bulletins warning you about speciﬁ c 
  secret societies? Do you think a citizen who fails to note important 
  bulletins deserves a position of greater responsibility? What other 
  important messages have you ignored?
  � Think about this very carefully. In one word or less: Do you 
  consider yourself decisive? Why did you hesitate?
  � How successful has Alpha Complex been in adapting to the ever-
  changing Commie threat? Do you think citizens who encounter 
  new types of treason should report them to The Computer? 
  Would you? How would you know it was new? If you only had 
  one second to live, would you report an old form of treason or 
  a new form of treason? Again, citizen, how did you know which 
  one was the new one?
  � How many of your 14 mandatory Light Grey Fuzzy Treats have 
  you eaten in the last month? Did you notice anything different 
  about the last batch of Light Grey Fuzzy Treats? Did the last one 
  you ate taste... especially fuzzy? At what point is ‘more fuzzy’ 
  too fuzzy?
  � What is the most treasonous activity you can think of that 
  should result in re-education but not termination? What is the 
  least treasonous activity you can think of that should result in 
  FAILURE TO USE A #2 PENCIL IS PROOF OF TREASON.
  
  30
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  HFJPC JOB CANDIDATE OPPORTUNITY BULLETIN
  Job title: Citizen Placement Ofﬁ cer
  Location: Happy Fun Job Placement Center
  Sector: ZRN
  Service group: HPD & Mind Control
  Minimum security clearance: ORANGE
  Prior work experience: None required
  Education/special training needed: None required
  Recommended skills: None required
  Job description: Have no skills? Enjoy telling 
  other citizens how to live their life? Then 
  the Happy Fun Job Placement Center is for 
  you. Match up job candidates with their ideal 
  mandatory work assignment, bringing them 
  immediate employment and making Alpha 
  Complex an even more perfect utopian society. 
  No prior work history? Don’t worry—HFJPC has 
  one of the most advanced on-the-job training 
  programs in HPD & Mind Control, thanks to our 
  plug-and-play epidermal memory enhancement 
  modules. Within minutes you’ll be an expert on 
  every type of employment imaginable. In addition, 
  our recruiters enjoy excellent beneﬁ ts, including 
  our daily Happy Time Singalong led by our own 
  HFJPC Singers, not to mention an industry-low 
  14-hour work shift. HFJPC and You!!! A team only 
  The Computer could dream up.
  Start date: Immediate
  Job code: 68D0-IUIF380Oi11lI
  immediate termination? Why do you 
  feel that action in particular should lead 
  to termination? Are you aware the loyal 
  workers in HPD & Mind Control are 
  coming up with better and better ways 
  every day to turn once disloyal citizens 
  into productive loyal citizens? What do 
  you have against HPD & Mind Control? 
  Who are you to judge?
  Make sure to ask each player a couple of 
  questions, just enough to get them squirmy. 
  Feel free to ask different players the same 
  questions. Praise one of them for their 
  answers; frown and type furiously whenever 
  the other players answer, roll some dice where 
  they can’t see it. Ask them to repeat their 
  answers. Torment.
  Should a question lead to two or more players 
  trying to cap each other, kindly explain to them 
  HFJPC has a wireless weapons suppression 
  system, which turns off all laser and projectile 
  ﬁ re control systems as well as all explosive 
  electronics. In short... no guns or grenades. Of 
  course, this can’t stop them from bludgeoning 
  each other with chairs and ﬁ sts. If a ﬁ ght does 
  break out, two or three Job Acceptance Bots 
  step in to pacify the situation.
  What color is your security 
  badge?
  To assist Citizen Placement Ofﬁ cers, HPD & 
  Mind Control has created a variety of aptitude 
  tests. As GM, feel free to use these procedures 
  at your discretion. As PCs complete job 
  assignments, you may want to bring them back 
  to the HFJPC for supplemental testing, sort of 
  like a Troubleshooter debrieﬁ ng. It’s easy to 
  ﬁ t a visit to the HFJPC between each of your 
  players’ career achievements.
  After the intake interview, the CPO asks our 
  increasingly nervous job candidates to take 
  a few simple Placement Aid tests. He also 
  tells them not to worry, because ‘Placement 
  Aid fatalities have declined .03% this year’. 
  Before the players can digest this last bit 
  of information, up scoots a bot wearing a 
  brown lab coat -- a Test Prompter Bot Model 
  M.A.X. 843 (AKA ‘Max’). Max escorts the job 
  candidates back to the testing area -- rooms 
  of various sizes beyond the bullpen area. The 
  bot eyes the players cautiously, like they’re 
  accused of treason and apt to bolt.
  Where you go from here is up to you. If you 
  think your players will revisit HFJPC frequently, 
  give them one or two tests, then have Max 
  return them to their CPO’s cubicle to receive 
  
  31
  4. JOB CENTER
  APTITUDE TESTS
  their new job assignment. On the other hand, 
  if playing a non-Troubleshooter is a one-time 
  gag, feel free to bury the PCs alive in test after 
  test after test. Have The Computer interrupt 
  occasionally to ask the player why they 
  haven’t reported to their next assignment yet. 
  Encourage them to take tests faster. Ask them 
  if they really ‘want’ to work.
  ■ Sample aptitude tests
  Here are a few typical HFJPC tests. Use these 
  or make up your own.
  ■ Emotional volatility testing
  This test was developed by Internal Security 
  to measure a citizen’s investigative skills and 
  stress reaction. It’s based on the old Telephone 
  game. Max whispers a message into character 
  A’s ear, who whispers the message to character 
  B, and so forth until the last PC whispers the 
  message back to Max. The initial message Max 
  whispers to A: ‘Three citizens go into a room. 
  A and B see C destroying Computer property. 
  They report him to the nearest Internal Security 
  agent, and C is arrested. A and B are rewarded. 
  Pass this on.’
  Normally you would expect Max to repeat the 
  last message aloud, giving everyone a good 
  laugh and an important life lesson about the 
  unreliability and volatility of rumors. Great, ﬁ ne, 
  shut up. This is PARANOIA.
  The final message Max says aloud: 
  ‘Unfortunately, the ﬁ nal message relayed to 
  me has an unacceptable variance from the 
  original. Please ﬁ nd the source of the deviation. 
  The message I just received is: “Act normal... 
  I am a member of a rebel group battling The 
  Computer. My secret mutant power informs me 
  you may be sympathetic to our cause. Would 
  you like to attend a secret society fundraiser 
  and new member mixer? Think about it.”’
  So how enthusiastic do your super-sleuth 
  players get in their investigation? Once the 
  players identify the traitor responsible for the 
  communications failure, Max blows its whistle. 
  Six Job Acceptance Bots zip in, grab the guilty 
  party and whisk him out the door. If the ‘guilty’ 
  citizen doesn’t do anything too stupid, they 
  bring him back after a couple of minutes. This 
  was, after all, just a test.
  ■ Obedience training
  Ever play ‘Simon Says’ when you were little? 
  You remember—if the leader says ‘Simon 
  says, “Sit down”, then all players must sit down 
  ■ A couple more things that never happen at HFJPC
  � No need to limit the intake interview to just your players. Include an NPC job applicant 
  in the group. Do not, of course, make him an irritating higher security clearance 
  smooth talker. Do not have the CPO favor this job candidate. Do not have them 
  share in-jokes or common acquaintances. Do not have the job candidate deliberately 
  ﬂ unk tests and then overtly switch results with the players. Do not have him pull 
  rank and claim both chairs, one to sit in and one for his feet. Most important, do not 
  have the CPO give this interloper the players’ dream job while patting him on the 
  back and saying ‘I think we can leave the rest of that testing stuff for the menials.’ 
  Do not... well you see where we’re going with this.
  � At some point during the intake or job assignment interview the CPO sees a new 
  job come in that he himself wants. ‘Well, I must say, you all did really great on your 
  tests. These are some of the best scores I’ve seen this week.... Hey, look at this. A 
  brand new position just opened up—good pay—nice promotion—low risk... Wow, 
  this is...’ The CPO stops speaking, looks furtively at the players and says, ‘I’ll be 
  right back.’ That’s the last they see of him.
  Sit quietly. Stare at your players. See how long they’re willing to wait. If they ask 
  someone about their CPO, they are informed the lucky bastard took a great new 
  position in the Extended Rest and Relaxation Development Center. Eventually the 
  players ﬁ gure out they must start all over.
  right away; if they hesitate, they are out. But if 
  the leader says ‘sit down’ without ﬁ rst saying 
  ‘Simon says’, and you do it, then you’re out. It’s 
  a great way to help kids develop their listening 
  skills. It’s also a great way to ﬁ nd out whether 
  a PC is mindless enough to do practically 
  anything without question.
  Max: The Computer says: ‘Sit down’... very 
  good... stand up... excellent, I tried 
  to trick you there. The Computer 
  says: ‘Stand up’. Okay, everyone 
  know how to play now? Great, 
  let’s get started—The Computer 
  says: ‘Which of your fellow job 
  candidates is most likely to be a 
  traitor?’ [After they shout out a few 
  names:] Why?... Excellent reasons, 
  but I didn’t say ‘The Computer says: 
  Why?’ Still, those are good reasons. 
  [Jots down notes.] Let’s play again 
  ... The Computer says: ‘Hit Job 
  Acceptance Bot #275 with a chair’. 
  [Pause.] Yes, citizens, you are still 
  in the game; please proceed with 
  the last directive. It’s that big dumb-
  looking bot over there. Also, right 
  before you hit it, The Computer says 
  to yell: ‘Hey! Scrubot wannabe, the 
  next time you pick on Max, you and 
  I are gonna tango.’
  So how obedient were your players?
  ■ Paranoia test
  Loyal citizens stay alert for potential treason. 
  Are your players alert? Let’s ﬁ nd out. Each 
  round of this test Max thinks of something 
  a number between one and ten. Whoever 
  guesses closest wins a voucher for a bonus 
  Bouncy Bubble Beverage ration. The trick is, 
  the same citizen will be ‘correct’ each round. 
  How many times in a row can they win before 
  other job candidates get suspicious?
  � Citizen voices suspicion after two 
  consecutive wins: Max says, ‘Excellent 
  insight, citizen! I was deliberately 
  declaring your fellow Job Candidate 
  the winner each round to test your 
  Treason Alertness Threshold. Your 
  hyper-paranoid alertness to potential 
  treason has been noted. Have you ever 
  considered upper-level management?’
  � Suspicious after three or four 
  consecutive wins: Average alertness.
  �  Suspicious after five or six 
  consecutive wins: Useless. Send 
  ‘em to the food vats. Tell them it’s a 
  promotion. They probably believe it.
  � No suspicion expressed after six 
  consecutive wins: Check for pulse; if 
  found, check for secret society ID card; if 
  none found, ask a few pointed questions: 
  ‘Do you think it’s odd he seems to keep 
  winning each round? You do? Then why 
  MANDATORY SINGALONGS ARE BOTH FUN AND MANDATORY.
  
  32
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  haven’t you reported these feelings? 
  What other ‘odd’ things have you failed 
  to report? Is there anything ‘odd’ about 
  yourself you’d like to talk about?’
  Oh yeah—feel free to take away the Bouncy 
  Bubble Beverage vouchers at the end of this 
  exercise.
  ■ Hooray for Hollywood
  Have our job candidates ever thought about 
  being vidstars? Sure they have. This test was 
  created by HPD & Mind Control to help ﬁ nd 
  tomorrow’s vidstars today.
  Start the test by having the players perform a 
  couple of simple warm-up actor exercises:
  � ‘Pretend you are eating one of those 
  delicious YumYum Kelp Cakes.’ [Pause.] 
  ‘Aww, you can do better than that... Now 
  pretend you’re eating the New Improved 
  YumYum Kelp Cake.’ [Pause.] ‘Now 
  pretend you’re eating the New Super-
  Improved YumYum Kelp Cakes.’ By now 
  they should be crying, they’re enjoying 
  it so much.
  �  ‘You’ve just been lasered by a 
  traitor... die in slow motion... slower... 
  ssllooowwerrrr.’ Encourage your players 
  to act out. Praise them liberally. Have 
  Max say things like, ‘We may have found 
  your special talent.’
  Then have Max give them their big chance, a 
  whole improv scene. Suddenly Max whips out 
  a map that is, to all appearances, an ofﬁ cial 
  Tech Services hangar map marked BLUE 
  Clearance.
  Max: Don’t worry about the BLUE marking—
  this is just a prop. In this scene 
  you’re a traitorous secret society 
  trying to infiltrate hangar 614 in 
  BOM sector. In hangar 614 there 
  are six Mark 2 combots, unjustly 
  deactivated by purblind meatheads. 
  The combots are located in the 
  northwest corner, next to a two-
  meter spillway. Vidcams are 
  [pointing] here... here... and here. 
  Two more guards stand watch in the 
  hall outside the door, rotating every 
  four hours. In this scene you must 
  talk your way past the two guards 
  outside the door without arousing 
  suspicion. Ready... action!
  PC: Um... okay... ‘Hi, I’m here to clean the 
  hangar...’
  Max: Cut, cut, cut, won’t work, we tried 
  that... I mean, talented citizens like 
  you can think of something better. 
  Okay... ready... action!
  Max pushes the job candidates mercilessly 
  to both act like real traitors and get past the 
  guards cleverly. The moment they do, Max 
  shouts:
  Max: Cut! Cut! Magnificent! That was 
  brilliant! You were so ... real! So... in 
  the moment! Loved it. Where, um... 
  did you draw your inspiration from? 
  Uh-huh, yeah... interesting. That 
  was unique—it’s almost like you’ve 
  practiced it before. Have you? How 
  did acting like a traitor make you 
  feel? Did it feel... natural? Who do 
  you think made the most believable 
  traitor in your group? Why? Anyone 
  else have an opinion?
  ■ Code recognition
  Have Max tell the job candidates this is a 
  timed test to determine their verbal pattern 
  recognition skills. Write the following on a piece 
  of paper and show it to your players. Give them 
  a minute to ‘break’ the code and write down 
  their answers.
  I HTAE TEH COMPUTRE
  ALPHA COMPLXE SI DOOMDE
  RISE PU OWRKERS OF TEH WORDL 
  AND UNITE
  COMMIES RUEL, TEH COPMUTER 
  DROOSL
  Should any player correctly decipher these, 
  have Max go on and on about how no one 
  else has ever deciphered these messages so 
  quickly. ‘How did you manage to do it, citizen? 
  Are you familiar with these phrases? How 
  many times have you heard them before? Have 
  you ever used them yourself?’
  Failure to unscramble the letter jumble is 
  equally bad. ‘I’m sorry, I know you did your 
  best. Just a general question -- do you feel 
  you’re good at spotting treason? Why did you 
  answer that way? What if I told you this test 
  indicates you’re not very good... Do you think 
  The Computer should still put you in a position 
  of responsibility? Are you aware of the many 
  thrilling job opportunities in Food Vat 206 next 
  door? What’s that? Another chance? Sure.’
  ■ The 10,000-Credit Pyramid
  Remember that old game show? This is a lot 
  like that game’s ﬁ nal round. Citizen A knows 
  the category but B doesn’t. Citizen A rapid-ﬁ res 
  clues at B to help B guess the category. Once 
  he guesses the category, A goes on to the next 
  category. If your players get all six categories 
  right in two minutes they win. For example:
  A: The color red... yellow... orange... 
  ultraviolet...
  B: Security clearance levels!
  Max: Correct, next!
  A: Cold Fun... Hot Fun
  B: Foods?
  A: Umm... Hot Fun... um... a second helping 
  of Cold Fun....
  B: Oh, oh... I know this... Bonus food treats 
  you get for completing missions?
  Max: Correct, next!
  Give your players categories that encourage 
  them to say treasonous things: Secret Society 
  Names, Treasons You Normally Don’t Report, 
  Citizens You Don’t Trust, Reasons Why The 
  Computer Might Lie, Service Groups Citizens 
  Hate and so forth.
  Their new careers
  When you get bored torturing the players with 
  these tests, Max the bot takes the PCs back 
  to the Citizen Placement Ofﬁ cer’s cubicle. 
  There the CPO assigns all PCs the same new 
  job—one of the jobs in this book, or some even 
  more devious and deadly position. 
  The CPO answers the PCs’ protests that 
  they’ve never been trained to do said job with 
  repeated assurances The Computer has full 
  faith in them. Furthermore, their test results 
  indicate they are fully prepared to take on their 
  new responsibilities. They don’t doubt The 
  Computer’s test procedures, do they?
  With that, the CPO gives all PCs a Mandatory 
  Employment Opportunity Acceptance form and 
  points them to the nearest exit. 
  What’s that? How do the tests help you 
  decide what job they get? Oh, we’re sorry, 
  you’ve never played this game before. The 
  tests are meaningless. In Alpha Complex all 
  jobs are ﬁ lled based on intimidation, bribery, 
  connections and immediacy of need. Failure 
  to use these techniques means the PCs only 
  get the job droppings.
  Never let the players know this. They may 
  ﬁ gure it out eventually, but that’s just one 
  of those Alpha Complex life lessons, which 
  probably costs them several lives.
  
  33
  5. EAP clubs
  by Gareth Hanrahan
  5. SOCIAL CLUBS
  FUNCTION
  BE A LOYAL CITIZEN! JOIN A CLUB TODAY!
  Editor’s note: Mongoose Publishing staff writer and Famous 
  Game Designer Gareth Hanrahan wrote this chapter for his 2004 
  PARANOIA supplement The Traitor’s Manual, a comprehensive 
  treatise of all the major secret societies in Alpha Complex. We 
  had to cut the chapter for space. 
  In The Traitor’s Manual, the clubs described here were portrayed 
  as the prime recruiting ground for the secret societies. That still 
  holds, but the clubs also help newly promoted arriviste PCs to 
  make acquaintances at their new clearance. So when we had 
  some space available in Extreme PARANOIA, we thought, Why 
  not? Maybe Gareth will put us back on his Christmas card list.
  The Computer cares deeply for the happiness, well-being and hygiene of 
  every citizen. The Old Reckoning ethos of grueling self-sacriﬁ ce—where 
  all citizens were chained to cubicles and worked until they dropped from 
  exhaustion or lead poisoning—are long gone. Now, after completing 
  assigned duties at their service ﬁ rms, Alpha Complex citizens have 
  a median 4.45 hours of Mandatory Fun Time before the sleep gas is 
  pumped into the INFRARED dormitories.
  Many citizens spend much of this Mandatory Fun Time watching Teela 
  reruns, the Friendship Lottery and the Daily Execution Show, but The 
  Computer worries about citizens spending too much time alone. Solitude 
  breeds aberrant behavior, and aberrant behavior breeds treason. A 
  citizen alone is a suspect. (Also, the all-important citizen/camera ratio 
  requires Internal Security to cram as many people as 
  possible into one room.) Therefore, most people spend 
  part of their Mandatory Fun Time in Elective Activity 
  or Pursuit clubs.
  These clubs are dedicated to a particular sport, hobby 
  or pastime. The Computer assigns each EAP club an 
  Activity Center, which it time-shares with other EAP 
  clubs or other functions (this morning’s R&D test ﬁ ring 
  chamber is tonight’s ‘Wallscrubbing Is Fun’ meeting 
  room). IntSec monitors the Activity Center, of course, 
  but the level of surveillance is considerably lower than 
  in other places, like dormitories, corridors or bathrooms. 
  The Computer expects club members to cheerfully and 
  loyally rat on their treasonous fellows, and to some 
  extent they do —unless they’re all conspiring together. 
  Some clubs are hotbeds of treason; the rest are merely 
  simmering mattresses of dissent. 
  The Computer allots EAP clubs a small budget for 
  equipment, administration costs and so on—the budget 
  is proportional to the number of club members, so most 
  clubs recruit enthusiastically. 
  HPD&MC gives every club 100 credits per year, as 
  well as use of an Activity Center room for two hours 
  per week. The club earns an extra 5cr per year for 
  each member beyond the ﬁ rst 20, to a maximum of 
  1,000cr. To ensure that a club actually has the stated 
  number of members and is not trying to bilk money 
  out of long-suffering HPD&MC, secret inspectors visit 
  each club annually and count attendees. (HPD&MC is 
  considering outsourcing this duty to a new EAP club, 
  the Club Volunteers Volunteer Club.)
  Fraud and theft of club funds are sadly common. 
  The Computer has decreed that, to counter such 
  unlawful theft, an EAP club leader must have at least 
  RED Clearance. Should a large group of INFRARED 
  citizens wish to form a local branch of an EAP club in 
  their sector, they must accumulate the requisite number 
  of signatures on HPD&MC Form 05/EAP/56430/A and 
  must ﬁ nd a RED or higher-clearance citizen willing 
  to volunteer as club leader. In rare cases where no 
  willing citizen is available, The Computer brevets one 
  of the INFRAREDs to RED Clearance for the duration 
  of the meeting.
  In FunBall Tournament Variant #145a (rev. 211.09.04.04 13:45), each team tries to persuade the 
  FunBall’s bot brain their team is happier than their rival. Here star standsmen of Sectors GYI and 
  WQP face off in their 205th Annual Friendly FunBall Rivalry.
  
  34
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  This does not, of course, lead to hordes of 
  INFRAREDs trying to start every imaginable 
  EAP club in hopes of forcing a promotion.
  Approved EAP club types
  HPD&MC maintains a list of approved club 
  types. HPD normally approves one of each 
  club type in each sector, although they make 
  exceptions for especially popular clubs, 
  overpopulated sectors or when the HPD&MC 
  clerk really can’t be bothered going through 
  the bulging ﬁ ling cabinet ﬁ lled by HPD&MC/05/
  EAP/56430/As ﬁ led by hordes of INFRAREDs 
  trying to start every imaginable EAP club in 
  hopes of forcing a promotion.
  IntSec periodically updates the Approved 
  list; clubs that fall off the Approved list become 
  treasonous and either die out or move 
  underground as secret societies. In some 
  cases, IntSec blacklists a sector’s EAP club 
  even when it still generally approves the EAP 
  club concept. For example, Creative Writing 
  Club members must beware of displaying their 
  badges in SRD Sector. IntSec encourages 
  citizens to consult the ever-growing list of 
  Unapproved EAP Clubs, available on request 
  at INFRARED Clearance.
  The list of Approved Clubs is also quite 
  lengthy (in astronomical terms), but most EAP 
  clubs fall into a limited number of categories:
  � Sports clubs
  � Hobby clubs
  � Pastime societies
  � Community Observation Groups
  � Junior Citizen Brigades
  � Service ﬁ rm sponsored clubs
  ■ Sports clubs
  The Computer expects citizens to maintain a 
  minimum level of ﬁ tness, which can be difﬁ cult 
  on a diet of Hot Fun—what it lacks in actual 
  nutrients, it makes up for in Double-Plus Xtra-
  Sweetener. The Computer assigns citizens 
  who fail HPD&MC ﬁ tness checks to a Sports 
  EAP club; other citizens can go voluntarily if 
  they have extra energy to burn off. 
  The Computer expects citizens to take pride 
  in the record-breaking accomplishments of 
  their athletes. HPD&MC elevates especially 
  skilled sportsmen as role models for other 
  citizens and puts them on a fast track to 
  promotion. However, treasonous, unregistered 
  mutants occasionally use their mutant abilities 
  to win, so doing too well in a sport arouses 
  HPD&MC’s suspicions. The latest ad motto 
  for athletes: Be the best you can be within a 
  single standard deviation of average!
  Though most EAPs ﬁ t neatly into the standard 
  Activity Center, some sports clubs need their 
  own special centers. Not all clubs are so 
  inconvenient—Extra Calisthenics Volunteers 
  or Rubber Ball Bouncing Groups use standard 
  Activity Centers, and kudos to them!
  Rivalries among different sports clubs are 
  common. The specialized equipment needed 
  for sports often prompts theft, sabotage and 
  long-running turf wars.
  Examples of common sports clubs:
  Corridor running: Hordes of track-suited 
  citizens stampede down corridors, trying 
  to beat their best time for getting from the 
  Commissary to the Bathroom Complex. 
  HPD&MC service ﬁ rms post times and places 
  set aside for Corridor Running on notice 
  boards. They advise citizens not to stand in the 
  path of three dozen overweight INFRAREDs 
  charging full-tilt down a ten-foot-wide corridor, 
  particularly when spoiled HotFun adds 
  incentive for runners to beat their times to the 
  bathrooms.
  The similar sport of transtube running is also 
  on the approved list, but has been deprecated 
  due to clogs and cleaning delays.
  Vat swimming: Alpha Complex lacks any 
  large, open areas of water, but swimming is 
  still a vital citizen skill, as well as an excellent 
  all-body workout. Vat swimmers use standard 
  food/bio-organic vats ﬁ lled with water or an 
  approved chemical substitute. Following their 
  enthusiastic club leader, swimmers circle the 
  vat or swim down the connecting tubes to 
  other vats. HPD&MC sometimes requires vat 
  swim teams to serve their complex by acting 
  as replacement stirring devices when the food 
  vat Churn-O-Matics break down. 
  FunBall: Ancient records show that before 
  Alpha Complex, citizens used to engage 
  in a bewilderingly large array of ball-based 
  games. Some games involved kicking a ball, 
  or punching it, or carrying it, or hitting it with 
  various implements. The rules for these games 
  were equally varied and obtuse. Even the 
  balls varied in size and hardness. HPD&MC 
  acknowledged the popularity of these sports 
  and the desire of citizens to continue playing 
  ■ FunBall rules
  The Year 214 revision of the Ofﬁ cial FunBall Commission FunBall Rulebook has been 
  published. Some notable changes:
  Rule #124/a: Only CNH Regulation funballs may be used. (CNH Regulation funballs 
  consist of a bot-brain, audio sensors and ultra-high velocity gyroscopic guidance 
  mechanism, all wrapped in a rubber composite and covered with a YumFeel coating that 
  is soothing to the average citizen’s grip. The shape is that of a Cartesian oval (egg shape) 
  weighted toward the larger end. The bot brain responds adequately to audio stimuli that 
  manage to make it through the various coatings and adjusts the gyroscope to lean or 
  direct the ball toward the loudest source. The louder the source, the happier the ball is, 
  with one caveat… if the funball detects sarcasm or anger in the modulation, it gyrates 
  away from the sound. The end result is a ball that wobbles, bounces and strives to get to 
  the happiest sounding thing out there by any possible means. 
  Past funballs used in impromptu games throughout the complex have been ‘Any vat-
  damn thing we can throw around that can survive more than 20 minutes of such abuse.’ 
  Everything from ‘ofﬁ cial funballs’, to wadded-up sheets of PaperLyke portable writing 
  surface, to small bots and even grenades have been funballs at one time or another. 
  Such funballs are now banned.
  Rule #213/c: A player is outside, and therefore in violation, when he is closer to the 
  inner sanctum, or the outer stratum, without ﬁ rst being presented with an offered play, or 
  where his current position means he is not on the opposite side of the opposing team’s 
  second last standsman or third outer kickback, or where his position is level with at least 
  two left-handed, offset center-quarters making a play for the third quarter sixth.
  Strangely, the injury 
  rate in FunBall matches 
  between competing 
  service ﬁ rms is some 
  800% higher than 
  normal.
  
  35
  them, but the lack of large open spaces within 
  the complex forced a compromise. 
  R&D engineers studied the various games 
  and developed a new sport that combined 
  the statistically most important and enjoyable 
  aspects of all of them. HPD&MC depreciated 
  the original name (‘FootHandCrickTenBaseBa
  sketHockBallPro’) in favor of the modern term, 
  ‘FunBall’. The sport is ofﬁ cially wildly popular 
  within Alpha Complex, and HPD service-ﬁ rm-
  conducted surveys have placed tremendous 
  pressure on HPD&MC for the construction 
  of new FunBall arenas. When HPD&MC 
  can’t meet this demand, citizens sometimes 
  construct impromptu arenas in dormitories or 
  on factory ﬂ oors.
  The vid networks televise matches between 
  the larger clubs, with HPD-sponsored subliminal 
  ads encouraging citizens to support one club 
  or another. MNU Sector boasts the current 
  champion club, although the Service Firm 
  Sponsored team from R&D’s Steroid Combat 
  Drug Development Group is mounting a 
  surprisingly forceful challenge.
  Electromuscular Sequencing: An 
  innovation from R&D, Electromuscular 
  Sequencing provides all the beneﬁ t of exercise 
  with only 84% of the effort. HPD&MC service 
  firm physiobots attach each participant to 
  an Electromuscle Sequencer (called a ‘rack’ 
  by aﬁ cionados of the sport), which directly 
  stimulates each of the major muscle groups 
  using precisely timed jolts of electricity. The 
  resultant writhing gives a complete workout. 
  Power Services ﬁ rms enthusiastically sponsor 
  many ES clubs.
  Marital arts: A misprint in the Approved List 
  led to the banning of the once-popular Self-
  Defense and Self-Offense classes. At Marital 
  Arts clubs, pairs of citizens stand around 
  looking confused and faintly embarrassed. In 
  rare sectors where citizens have not properly 
  applied their hormone suppressants, these 
  clubs are considerably more active and 
  popular.
  PowerGolf: Golf’s association with high-
  level executives endured even the disasters 
  that led to the foundation of Alpha Complex, 
  probably due to Romantic or Free Enterprise 
  intervention. However, the same lack of wide-
  open spaces that blights FunBall also caused 
  problems for PowerGolf. HPD&MC solved 
  this problem by creating an indoor variant of 
  the game. Instead of a simple, brutish club, 
  the PowerGolfer uses a complex, reversible 
  vacuum hose to suck or blow the ball around 
  Alpha Complex.
  The aim of the game is to get the ball into 
  a PowerBall receptacle, which is normally 
  mounted on the back of a convenient bot 
  (or citizen in a pinch). The rules strictly state 
  that a ball must be played where it lies, so 
  low-clearance citizens are used to the sight 
  of over-exerted BLUE executives rampaging 
  around and ﬁ ring high-velocity balls at nearby 
  scrubots. Another sport once popular among 
  high-clearance citizens is squash, but the name 
  turns most sensible citizens off immediately.
  ■ Hobby clubs
  Of all the EAP clubs, IntSec watches the hobby 
  clubs most closely, the general consensus 
  being they must be covers for something 
  treasonous. In truth, most hobby clubbers are 
  just very esoterically minded and actually do 
  take interest in their insanely dull pastimes. 
  Treasonous activity typically takes place half 
  an hour into the club meeting, when IntSec 
  surveillance agents have switched off out of 
  mind-numbing boredom.
  Chess clubs: Two chess variants are in 
  vogue in Alpha Complex. People still play 
  standard chess, but rumors of its association 
  with Communism have tainted enthusiasts in 
  the eyes of most right-thinking citizens. The 
  usual replacement is Clearance Chess, where 
  each piece represents a security clearance and 
  can only be taken by another piece of equal or 
  higher clearance. The eight Troubleshooters 
  are INFRARED, the Observation Towers are 
  RED, the Things That Look Like a U-Bend 
  in the Plumbing System Only With Eyes are 
  GREEN, the Loyalty Ofﬁ cers are INDIGO, 
  the Supervisor is VIOLET and the High 
  Programmer is ULTRAVIOLET. Clearance 
  Chess games can take a long time to play.
  Technology interest groups: These study a 
  particular ﬁ eld of science or technology. Nuclear 
  physics, lasers, biochemistry, metallurgy, 
  genetics and so on all have their EAP TIGs, 
  all under extremely close IntSec surveillance. 
  Meetings generally take the form of lectures, 
  readings or supervised experiments. R&D is 
  heavily involved with the TIGs, showcasing 
  new developments to interested citizens.
  INFRARED pressure in creating approved 
  EAP clubs is especially noticeable in the list of 
  EAP TIGs: The Physics of Scrubot Cleaning 
  Bristles Appreciation Group, the Society of 
  the Study of Vaporization Residue, the What’s 
  in Hot Fun Anyway Group, the Learning 
  About Corridor Wall Fungi Is Fun Group, the 
  Air Currents Within the Ventilation System 
  Tracking Team and so on.
  Creative writing clubs: Creativity, in 
  general, is not terribly prized in Alpha Complex. 
  Independent thought isn’t suppressed, per 
  se; it’s just seen as, well, it’s a little bit… 
  troublesome. Still, the muse does strike even 
  the lowly INFRARED, so the Creative Writing 
  Clubs distribute approved Fiction Framework 
  Forms. These forms each contain a specially 
  formulated story, designed to be Educational, 
  Morally Sound and Emotionally Uplifting. The 
  Creative Writer ﬁ lls in a number of blanks on 
  the form. The club includes a list of approved 
  words with each form; instances where club 
  members attach the wrong list of words to 
  a Fiction Framework Form are within an 
  acceptable margin of club personnel shrinkage 
  rates.
  Scale model enthusiasts: This EAP club 
  enjoys making very small copies of things. 
  The original SMEs built models of bots and 
  other vehicles, or occasionally significant 
  buildings within Alpha Complex. However, 
  the current generation of SMEs have moved 
  beyond such restricted subjects and now busily 
  build smaller-scale models of everything, from 
  termination booths to famous Troubleshooters 
  to other SMEs. SMEs judge models on two 
  criteria: miniaturization and accuracy. The best 
  SMEs work on the nanoscale, and breathing 
  too heavily in an Activity Center can earn you 
  the entire club’s undying hatred. 
  ■ Pastime societies
  The various pastime societies engage in 
  activities that skirt the edges of Approved 
  Behavior. Out of all the EAPs, the pastime 
  societies have traditionally been the most likely 
  to end up on the Unapproved List. They are 
  also the second-largest subsection of EAPs, 
  after the Community Observation Groups. 
  Amateur dramatics: These societies 
  produce and stage amateur versions of popular 
  vidshows. Rarely do they perform original, 
  uncensored plays; HPD&MC-censored scripts 
  from existing vidshows reduce the risk of 
  treason. 
  Props, sets and acting ability may be 
  lacking, but members compensate through 
  Fiction Framework Form
  A ______-clearance citizen uncovered 
  a nest of Commie ______ Traitors 
  engaged in the _______ crime of 
  _______-making using ______-bots 
  with _______intent, not to mention 
  _______ and _____. Springing into 
  _______, the _______ citizen drew 
  his ______ and ﬁ red, terminating the 
  Traitors in a ______ fashion. ______! 
  ‘I ______ My Friend, The Computer!’ 
  ______ the citizen. The End.
  5. SOCIAL CLUBS
  PASTIME SOCIETIES
  BUSY CITIZENS ARE HAPPY CITIZENS, OR AT LEAST CLOSE ENOUGH.
  
  36
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  sheer enthusiasm. AmDramSoc members 
  are sometimes overheard saying apparently 
  treasonous things; citizens should ensure 
  that these statements are actually treasonous 
  and not just part of a rehearsal for the role of 
  a traitor in an approved entertainment. (Valid 
  methods of ensuring truth are available from 
  IntSec’s Truth Encouragement Division.) 
  Photography society: As practically 
  every square approved-unit-of-measurement 
  of Alpha Complex is within view of either 
  a security camera or a Recording Ofﬁ cer’s 
  CamBot, relatively few Photography Societies 
  bother taking their own photos. Instead, 
  they sort through the massive archive of 
  declassified surveillance footage, looking 
  for frames that are noticeably beautiful, 
  harmonious, inspiring, artistic or just good 
  blackmail material. Normally, it takes up to 
  ﬁ ve years for a particular piece of footage to 
  be declassiﬁ ed, but especially non-essential 
  areas take less time. Members therefore 
  spend a lot of time going through 50,000 
  hours of surveillance of an empty corridor or 
  inactive pipe factory. They project noteworthy 
  photographs onto the wall of the Activity Center 
  for admiration and appreciation.
  Some branches of the society do purchase 
  cameras and go out in search of scenes worthy 
  of posterity. These branches tend to share 
  Activity Centers with branches of the Collective 
  Information Synthesis Friends. 
  Citizens United Through Song: This 
  society promotes music and singing. As with 
  AmDramSoc, most of the approved songs 
  are taken from vidshow advertisements or 
  programs. Of course, they also practice an 
  extensive list of Computer anthems and 
  loyalty-afﬁ rming songs (‘Hail Computer’, ‘Six 
  Citizens Hanging On The Wall,’ ‘Die You 
  Commie Mutant Traitors’, ‘A Is for All Things 
  The Computer Has Declared Begin With the 
  Letter A’, ‘I’m Happy That I’m Happy’ and many 
  more…*). Songsters rarely use instruments 
  other than synthesizers and their own voices, 
  although some branches have made great 
  strides in the use of very large airhorns.
  Debating societies: These societies tackle 
  the thorny issues of the day, like ‘Hot Fun 
  vs. Cold Fun’ or ‘Transbots vs. Walkways’. 
  Occasionally, some well-meaning yet foolish 
  citizen suggests a topic like ‘Is it right for The 
  Computer to drug and/or terminate us for the 
  most trivial offenses’, but he is quickly shouted 
  down and his next clone is much quieter. Rumor 
  has it that some aberrant Debating Societies 
  allow Free Thought, which is why many IntSec 
  spies are irritatingly argumentative.
  Fan clubs: Level-headed citizens (and 
  IntSec) justiﬁ ably fear the seething, roiling 
  chaos of bitter love that is Teela-O fandom. If 
  united, it would be among the biggest power 
  blocs in all of Alpha Complex. Fortunately, 
  Teela fandom is fractured into dozens of small, 
  opposed factions. Still, every vidshow has 
  its rabidly obsessive fan club, from Shower 
  Cleaning Time to the Daily Transbot Delay 
  Report. The fan clubs watch classic episodes 
  of their favorite shows, discuss trivia, speculate 
  about future episodes and collect information 
  and souvenirs of the cast and crew.
  Product or service appreciation societies: 
  These happy people really enjoy a particular 
  product or service, such as Bouncy Bubble 
  Beverage or Jumpsuit Cleaning. They try 
  samples of the product or service, visit 
  the places where the product or service is 
  produced or serviced, discuss the production 
  or service of the product or service and are 
  generally enthusiastic in a rather creepy way. 
  They ask those who do not have quite the 
  same level of commitment to the product or 
  service to leave the meetings.
  A slightly saner variant of these societies 
  is the Yummy Food Group, sampling fare 
  from  different sector commissaries and food 
  dispensers. Membership in a Yummy Food 
  Group means a citizen can discover where 
  the best ‘food’ is available, a vital skill at low 
  clearances. Some Yummy Food Groups even 
  organize excursions to far-off sectors of Alpha 
  Complex to eat at famous cafeterias.
  Botspotters: They spot bots. No bot goes 
  unspotted near a Botspotter botspotting spot. 
  Reams of Tech Services analysts actively 
  wonder why anyone would want to spot bots; 
  the consensus was, ‘it takes all sorts.’
  Genuine Credit Opportunity Clubs: 
  Currently under investigation, these clubs 
  encourage citizens to contribute their credits 
  towards senior club members. The citizens 
  then recruit other citizens, who contribute 
  their money towards the previously junior but 
  now increasingly senior citizens. The largest 
  of these clubs has several thousand members 
  and is rapidly growing, as it attracts citizens 
  through its genuine credit opportunities. The 
  founder mysteriously vanished off to CBN 
  Sector after winning The Computer’s Choice 
  Award for Happiest Citizen.
  TopWare parties: One of the more 
  impressive R&D innovations, TopWare is 
  a practically invulnerable, immortal and 
  impenetrable storage container. At TopWare 
  parties, hosts encourage guests to buy 
  TopWare boxes and tubs to store foodstuffs. 
  Given that Cold Fun is about the only thing 
  that lasts longer than TopWare, the point of 
  this is somewhat esoteric. R&D discourages 
  storing Hot Fun in TopWare unless you have a 
  burning desire to sear the lining of your lungs. 
  And, while you can keep algae chips ‘fresh’ 
  in TopWare, the chips taste just the same 
  when fresh or stale. However, recent R&D 
  service ﬁ rm research shows that TopWare can 
  serve as makeshift armor plating in the more 
  troubleshot sectors. (It costs 100 credits to buy 
  enough tubs, and gives armor 2 against Impact 
  and Energy attacks. TopWare armor may 
  attract Armed Forces or IntSec queries.)
  ■ Community Observation 
  Groups
  The lickspittles concerned citizens of the 
  EAP COGs selﬂ essly volunteer their time to 
  make Alpha Complex a better place to live. 
  They watch fellow citizens constantly, making 
  suggestions and reports on how fellow citizens 
  could improve their work ethic, cleanliness, 
  thought processes or loyalty index. Other 
  COGs keep watch over the maintenance of 
  Alpha Complex—if a painter misses a speck, 
  he can expect to have a COG waggling its 
  collective ﬁ nger at him within the hour. COGs 
  are high on the Approved EAP list. Be a part of 
  Alpha Complex and become a COG!
  Spontaneous Loyalty Demonstration 
  Organizers: The Computer wishes its citizens 
  to be so happy they burst into song-and-
  dance routines on the spur of the moment, or 
  parade in perfect unison down the corridors 
  carrying heart-warming banners sporting 
  approved touching slogans. Such spontaneous 
  demonstrations generally take weeks of 
  planning and pressure to organize.
  Collective Information Synthesis Friends:
  These clubs share information about other 
  citizens, looking for signs of treason or 
  disloyalty. For example, citizen John-G-ABC 
  may seem unimpeachably loyal with his 
  shiny new cone riﬂ e—but if one Information 
  Synthesis Friend tells the group that John-G 
  got demoted at work, another advertises the 
  correct salary level for a citizen of John-G’s 
  new pay grade, a third knows the price of a new 
  cone riﬂ e and the fourth has heard rumors of a 
  Free Enterprise cell operating in the sector… 
  well, it may be time to impeach John-G after all. 
  Essentially gossip circles reporting to IntSec, 
  Collective Information Synthesis Friends spy 
  on all their dormitory mates and coworkers.
  Volunteer Form Checkers: The Volunteer 
  Form Checkers provide a vital backup to 
  normal CPU Form Checkers and related 
  service ﬁ rms. Overburdened CPU and service 
  ﬁ rms can only check for the most important 
  factors on a form (Did the Troubleshooter ﬁ ll 
  * Not available in any stores. To order, call…
  
  37
  out every item? Did he check the box marked 
  ‘Do not check this box’?), but Volunteer Form 
  Checkers review forms with the zealousness 
  of the convert. VFCs scrutinize everything 
  from poor grammar to graphology analysis for 
  signs of subconscious treason. Normally, local 
  CPU service ﬁ rms ship them forms to check, 
  but some overly trusting Troubleshooters 
  have taken to dumping their half-completed 
  forms at VFC meetings and hoping the society 
  members ﬁ ll in the blanks.
  Smiling Club: A big, wide smile is the best 
  and most obvious sign of a truly happy citizen. 
  Members of Smiling Clubs study and imitate 
  the best smiles. Stretch those cheeks—and if 
  you can’t, there’s always the option of smile-
  enhancement surgery! Spinoffs of the Smiling 
  Clubs include the Cheery Humming Teams and 
  the Enthusiastic Little Hop-Skip as You Walk 
  Down the Corridor Club. 
  ■ Junior Citizen Brigades
  Recently decanted clones spend most of 
  their time being educated, but they too get to 
  participate in EAP clubs. Volunteer(ed) RED 
  citizens oversee junior versions of the various 
  sports clubs. Some other forms of EAP have 
  junior versions. Volunteered club leaders 
  generally regard assignment to a Junior Citizen 
  Brigade as cause to break out the extra-strong 
  happiness pills, as young people tend to be 
  surly, vicious, biting little brats who have not 
  yet had their wills broken, yet harbor a fanatical 
  desire to report others to The Computer. The 
  Computer holds RED Clearance club leaders 
  responsible for the Junior Citizens in their 
  charge, and requires them to bring the same 
  number back to the crèche as they left with at 
  the start of the club meeting. Desperate club 
  leaders sometimes kidnap young people as 
  replacements.
  ■ Service ﬁ rm 
  sponsored clubs
  The EAP/56430/B amendment that allows 
  a service firm to create an internal EAP 
  club was originally made as part of the 
  ‘Healthy Competition Has Been Deemed 
  Non-Treasonous’ initiative. The idea was that 
  having workmates play sports or watch reruns 
  together would build team spirit and increase 
  productivity. This was somewhat successful, 
  and inter-ﬁ rm FunBall matches are common. 
  (Strangely, the injury rate in FunBall matches 
  between competing service firms is some 
  800% higher than normal.)
  However, some bright citizen who doubtless 
  has a future in the termination booth had 
  an idea: Why not ‘outsource’ ﬁ rm activities 
  to eager club members? Instead of, say, 
  checking the serial numbers of every guardbot 
  in FAR Sector, why not use the EAP/56430/B 
  amendment to form the FAR Sector Guardbot 
  Spotting Society? The ﬁ rm then just has one 
  of its employees attend society meetings, 
  write down the numbers, and the job is done. 
  True, the ﬁ rm (not HPD&MC) has to pay the 
  club’s costs, but this is normally a considerable 
  savings over actually paying workers. 
  Not all ﬁ rm-sponsored EAP clubs are dodgy 
  credit scams; a few have valid reasons for 
  existence:
  Citizen’s Home Guard: Sponsored by the 
  Armed Forces, the Home Guard consists of 
  volunteer citizens armed with cast-off, surplus 
  or defective weapons. They drill constantly, 
  knowing they are the last line of defense 
  5. SOCIAL CLUBS
  RANDOM CLUB GENERATOR
  JOIN THE AUTHORIZED HISTORICAL REACTOR LIGHTBULB-SCRUBBING SOCIETY!
  against Commie takeover, and nothing repels 
  a horde of evil Commie invaders like close-
  formation drill marching. The Home Guards 
  (a.k.a. Vulture Reserves) are absurdly arrogant 
  and self-important, but have the unstable 
  ﬁ repower to justify some of this attitude.
  Complex Laser Association: Believing 
  every citizen has a right to bear arms and 
  vaporize much of the scenery, the CLA meets 
  to discuss and trade weapons. It also operates 
  firing ranges in the Activity Centers. R&D 
  sponsors the CLA and uses it to bypass testing 
  regulation on newer, shinier weapons. IntSec 
  closely observes the CLA to ensure weapon 
  trading doesn’t violate citizen clearances.
  Power Conservation Brotherhood: A 
  corrective measure that took on a life of its 
  own, the PCB was sponsored by Power 
  Services in an attempt to stop a series of 
  ■ Random EAP club generator
  There are literally as many EAP clubs as there are citizens with an avid interest or equally 
  avid self-interest. The lists here scratch the surface; a Troubleshooter wandering through 
  an Activity Center could encounter groups like Happiness Through Synchronized Laughter, 
  Finding the Inner You Society, Remedial Nuclear Safety, Boot Polishing for Beginners, 
  Efﬁ cient Note-taking for Reporting Your Neighbors and so on. Roll on the following tables 
  for a random club name, combining either components 1, 2 and 3, or 4, 5 and 6.
  Roll
  EAP Name Component 1
  Component 2
  Component 3
  1–2
  Algae Chip
  Appreciation
  Club
  3–4
  Bot
  Cleaning
  Society
  5–6
  Bouncy Bubble Beverage
  Collecting
  Organization
  7–8
  Camera
  Spotting
  Group
  9–10
  Corridor
  Historical
  Team
  11–12
  Dormitory
  Touring
  Union
  13–14
  Lightbulb
  Discussion
  -ers
  15–16
  Teela-O
  Analysis
  -ists
  17–18
  Troubleshooter
  Enthusiast
  -ismists
  19–20
  Sewer
  Support
  -ismisters
  Roll
  Component 4
  Component 5
  Component 6
  1–2
  Volunteer
  Citizen
  Exercise
  3–4
  Junior
  Computer
  Improvers
  5–6
  Special
  Corridor
  Scrubbers
  7–8
  United
  Vidshow
  Monitors
  9–10
  Sector
  Commissary
  Hobbyists
  11–12
  Ofﬁ cial
  Dormitory
  Veriﬁ ers
  13–14
  Authorized
  Mental
  Reporters
  15–16
  Citizen’s
  Map
  Analysts
  17–18
  Collective
  Reactor
  Focus group
  19–20
  Local
  Loyalty
  Agh! Troubleshooters! We are 
  discovered! Get them!
  
  38
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  troubling brownouts. Members were taught 
  basic power conservation tips, like switching off 
  lights when they leave a room and unplugging 
  devices not in use. The PCB didn’t stop 
  there—now the members spy on dormitories 
  to see if residents have left on lights, rush to 
  unplug vidshow monitors the microsecond a 
  program ﬁ nishes, turn magnetic containment 
  ﬁ elds down to the barest minimum level, cut 
  power lines to industrial sectors…basically, 
  the society is heading straight for Unapproval 
  if anyone can actually ﬁ nd the PCBs in the 
  lightless, unair-conditioned, eerily quiet Activity 
  Centers they call home.
  ■ Clubs and traitors
  EAP clubs, an institution designed to reduce 
  the opportunities for treason, have become the 
  foundation for most conspiracies and secret 
  societies in Alpha Complex. Consider the sorry 
  tale of poor young INFRARED Joe-NIH, just 
  out of Junior Citizen training. After a ﬁ rst day 
  at his exciting new service ﬁ rm assignment at 
  Reactor Coolant Pipe Fracture Assessment, 
  Joe-NIH goes down to the local Activity Center 
  to join his assigned quota of Elective Activity 
  or Pursuit clubs. Wanting to improve himself, 
  he signs up for the Algae Appreciators Club, 
  where like-minded citizens gather to talk about 
  all the ways algae is our helpful friend. He 
  pays the modest membership fee and agrees 
  to go on the club’s upcoming hike down to 
  see some really fascinating algae pools in an 
  outlying sector.
  Can you see why Joe-NIH is a traitor?
  Let’s read that again, the way IntSec records 
  have it:
  Citizen Joe-NIH (ﬁ le #NIH-535888392/c-
  INF) visited the NIH Sector Activity Center 
  at 1943 hours, Oneday, 214.01.05. There 
  he joined the Algae Appreciators Club (ﬁ le 
  #HPD&MC/05/EAP/295543/NIH41) and made 
  contact with four members of the traitorous 
  organization ‘Sierra Club’ (ﬁ le #IS/58/SC/1). 
  Joe then contributed a sum of money toward 
  the illegal activities of the society. Furthermore, 
  he conspired to meet with the Sierra Club 
  members during an unauthorized intrusion into 
  a sensitive industrial sector. IntSec assessment 
  is that Joe-NIH should be recruited as a double 
  agent and used to inﬁ ltrate the society cell 
  before mass corrective action is taken. 
  The EAP clubs are one of the few areas 
  when a citizen’s personality and choices 
  actually matter to some minuscule degree; 
  service ﬁ rm, housing and so on are assigned, 
  possessions are virtually identical from citizen 
  to citizen, but the EAPs are elective—a person 
  can freely choose which clubs he joins. Secret 
  societies use the clubs as recruiting grounds 
  and covers for their treasonous activities. Not 
  every club is riddled with traitors, but the local 
  meetings of COMINTERN are more likely to 
  be held over TeaSir and NearChocoBiscuits 
  in the Activity Center than in some lightless 
  hidden cellar.
  Using EAP clubs
  Grip the club ﬁ rmly in one hand and raise it 
  to head height, bending your elbow at… oh, 
  wrong sort of club. Apologies.
  ■ Networking for newly 
  promoted citizens
  With Extreme PARANOIA you’ll soon be 
  sending your PCs on the clearance roller 
  coaster. After a newly promoted PC drops 
  off his gear at his new residence, eats and 
  checks his C-mail, the player may ask, ‘So, 
  who do I know now? Who can tell me how to 
  [learn the ropes at my new service ﬁ rm / buy 
  weapons I’m cleared for / get into the BLUE 
  washrooms]?’
  EAP clubs can be a background resource 
  for characters to draw upon or trip over, just 
  like secret societies. Every citizen is a member 
  of at least one EAP club, even VIOLET 
  executives (they make good shelters for illicit 
  funds). If you’re starting with new PCs, you can 
  determine each character’s EAP during 
  character generation. If your PCs just got 
  promoted, have someone in their new 
  service ﬁ rm drop a hint that there’s lots of 
  good data to be found at the local chess 
  club, corridor running group or, heaven 
  help them, the Botspotters Club.
  ■ Secret society 
  recruiting grounds
  The EAP clubs are the soft edge of 
  treason in Alpha Complex, the path from 
  loyalty to sedition. Characters who want 
  to rise in their secret society use the 
  clubs for making contacts and recruiting 
  others; characters investigating treason 
  do the same.
  If you feel cruel, you can put your 
  player characters in charge of a club, 
  like the Junior Citizen Campers or the 
  OAP Sector Knitting Circle. Not every 
  Troubleshooter mission has to end 
  with explosions, chemical spills and 
  recriminations, but such disasters will 
  come as blessed relief after petty club 
  politics, grubby little vindictive kids and 
  backstabbing with knitting needles.
  Though The Computer considers Botspotter club members benign eccentrics, some bots (particularly those in 
  Corpore Metal) object, on principle, to being spotted.
  
  Each clearance chapter includes a 
  list of occupations or positions typical 
  of that clearance. These lists expand 
  and replace the lists in Chapter 4 of 
  the PARANOIA rulebook. We screwed 
  up those earlier lists—er, that is, 
  Commies sabotaged them—so just 
  pay no attention to them. Use these 
  instead.
  Typical ORANGE citizens
  Office supervisors, many vehicle 
  drivers; Armed Forces corporals; CPU 
  or R&D technical writers; PLC cooks, 
  taste testers; HPD junior journalists, 
  news analysts, Random Civilian 
  Entertainers, vidshow actors (see 
  this section); in Power Services, the 
  guys who dispose of spent radioactive 
  control rods from the power plants; 
  Tech Services air-conditioning repair 
  people, transbot supervisors on 
  INFRARED routes, Waste Recycling 
  sewage divers (who mostly wish they 
  hadn’t gotten promoted).
  Ah, management
  At ORANGE, citizens recieve their ﬁ rst taste 
  of the joys and hardships of management. 
  When your players reach this lofty goal 
  and remain alive, they may be stunned. If 
  you’ve been doing your job well, they’ll be 
  expecting the other shoe to drop at any 
  moment, squashing their characters.
  Keep them in suspense. The longer they’re 
  waiting, the later they’ll realize they’re 
  already under the heel.
  Citizens at ORANGE level are junior 
  management. They have no real power 
  other than to pass on orders from people 
  who don’t want to be caught with the 
  blame. As a group, ORANGE citizens are almost universally 
  shunned. Those above them see them as buffer material, 
  those below see them as useless middlemen, and both are 
  correct. Because of this, they tend to form tight-knit groups 
  among themselves. The one beneﬁ t of being ORANGE 
  is that other ORANGE citizens will go to great lengths to 
  back up the stories of their peers to their bosses, so long 
  as it doesn’t put them in personal danger. Of course, what 
  endangers a citizen in Alpha Complex is up to you to 
  decide.
  However, the real fear of the ORANGE citizen isn’t what his 
  superiors will say, it’s what his underlings will do. From the 
  Troubleshooter dispatcher to the vidstar, ORANGE citizens 
  are really at the mercy of the citizens below them. Did you 
  ever wonder why the team dispatcher always seems to hate 
  the team? It’s because a smart Troubleshooter team usually 
  means a dead supervisor. Even when the team manages to 
  put all the blame on the Communist menace, the ORANGE 
  supervisor may still get blamed for not anticipating that and 
  notifying his superiors.
  But let them revel in the idea of being ORANGE. They’ll soon 
  ﬁ gure it out. Or maybe their next characters will.
  ORANGE contents 
  Dossier: Timothy-O-GBC-5 
  (Eric Minton) 
  40
  Troubleshooters: Mission dispatchers 
  (Joshua Moretto) 
  41
  ORANGE secret society life (Gareth 
  Hanrahan) 
  41
  ORANGE oppotunities 
  (Dan Curtis Johnson) 
  42 
  Vidshow stars (Eric Minton) 
  43
  ORANGE life
  Salary: 2,000 cr/month
  Food: FunFoods, 
  ORANGEyouGladMeals with Soylent 
  Orange, all the B3 you want, real 
  food weekly.
  Housing: Room shared with one 
  other citizen.
  Transport: Feet. Transtube. 
  Transition. Autocar hack once in a 
  while.
  Staff: None.
  Authority: You can coerce the 
  occasional INFRARED.
  Perks: Well, you’re not RED. 
  Some free time.
  Demographic: About 6% of the 
  population.
  EXTREME ORANGE
  
  Proﬁ leNet :: Internal Security :: Department of Offender and At-Risk Tracking
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   CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN 
  Reference #: 789-53-893-589
  [Last Update: 214.04.15 11:48]
  Name: Timothy-O-GBC-5
  Decantationdate: 187.11.24
  Service group: HPD&MC
  Service ﬁ rm: AlphaNet News
  Occupation: Sports Reporter
  Last known location: HIL Sector, 
  Subsector 8A, Corridor 98-c
  Height: 177.8 cm
  Weight: 104.3 kg
  ORANGE Clearance
  Dossier: Timothy-O-GBC-5
  ACTIVITIES & AFFILIATIONS
  Activities: Botspotting, FunBall, Fraternizing: With lower-clearance citizens, Illegal drug 
  use: ethyl alcohol, Recreational drug use: qualine, xynonull, Vid-watching: 
  sports, game shows
  Afﬁ liations: GBC Sector Botspotting League; HPD&MC AlphaNet FunBall Team
  TREASONS & COMMENDATIONS
  Treasons: Entering higher-clearance areas (4), ﬁ lesharing (2), possession of unauthor-
  ized pharmaceuticals (12) (see records)
  Commendations: Most Cheerful Announcer award (1), team MVP (1), superior hygiene 
  (10), exceptional happiness (3) (see records)
  GENETIC PROFILE & CREDIT RATING
  Genetic Proﬁ le: Class 5F/17; anomalies at 0108g, 0306a, 7782a. [12% chance of 
  metabolic mutation]
  Credit Rating: 
  12-ORANGE (5,012cr)
  ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
  Known member of Mystics secret society. Known to have low-level contacts with 
  Free Enterprise and Romantics. Suspected of Communist sympathies. Protected by 
  several higher-clearance citizens in HPD&MC due to high ratings. (see records)
  ANALYSIS
  Primary drives: need for afﬁ rmation, fame.  Secondary drives: fetish for physical 
  activity and those who indulge in it.  Socializes with INFRAREDs to fulﬁ ll these needs; 
  obtaining access to secret society contacts and potential secret society recruits is 
  incidental. Requires pharmaceutical aid (obtained from Free Enterprise) to reduce 
  inhibitions in social contexts. PsychEst estimates a 55% chance he will discontinue 
  use of hormone suppressants within the next six months.
  RECOMMENDATIONS & COMMENTS
  Threat level: low. Intensify surveillance, take no other action.
  Comments: 
  [[ Possible stalking horse; apply pressure and see who he runs to?  — Anni-B ]]
  
  41
  ■ Troubleshooters: 
  Mission dispatchers
  So, your Troubleshooters have lied, murdered, bribed or even 
  competently earned their way to Security Clearance ORANGE. 
  Like any proud parent, you the GM may well wonder, ‘What now?’ 
  Surely, you think, it cannot be just shiny new reﬂ ec overalls and 
  deadlier laser barrels. Surely it’s not just the same confused, 
  ignorant, desperate terror?
  Of course not. ORANGE Clearance brings all-new forms of 
  confused, ignorant, desperate terror.
  The single most common Troubleshooter duty at ORANGE 
  is assignment to mission dispatch for a given sector. Here 
  Troubleshooters are responsible for the distribution, fulﬁ llment, 
  and assignment of incoming missions to teams of RED 
  Clearance Troubleshooters in their sector. Working in dispatch 
  is less a paper-pushing desk job and more akin to managing a 
  kindergarten where all the children have lasers.
  Mission Dispatch duty, like the other Troubleshooter duties 
  featured in this book, can be described as a combination of 
  slaps and bennies.
  ■ Bennies
  � Being held responsible for their dispatched missions gives 
  MDs ample opportunity to steal the credit for the success 
  of others.
  � Sector Mission Dispatch is an ideal position from which to 
  tamper with mission assignments to further secret society 
  or service ﬁ rm goals.
  ■ Slaps
  Mission Dispatchers (MDs) are personally responsible for the 
  distribution and assignment of all missions allocated to their 
  sector. This is the root of all MD stress.
  � MDs ﬁ ll requests for mission teams. This means tracking 
  down available RED Troubleshooters. In a crisis, this can 
  force them to undertake the mission themselves.
  � MDs are held accountable for their dispatched missions. 
  Though mission failures won’t, by themselves, get an MD 
  terminated, poor success ratios reﬂ ect badly on the MD’s 
  chances for promotion and longevity. It may also invite 
  an investigation by YELLOW Clearance Internal Affairs 
  Troubleshooters (see the YELLOW section of this book).
  � MDs arrange mission brieﬁ ngs. Usually this means simply 
  sending the team to the right room. Unfortunately, the 
  proper brieﬁ ng ofﬁ cer is sometimes unavailable (napping, 
  busy, unexpectedly assassinated or executed), and the 
  MDs may be forced to brief the team themselves. Now, 
  if only the mission requisitions actually contained the 
  necessary information….
  —Joshua Moretto
  MY OTHER CLONE IS A MUTANT, TOO.
  ORANGE
  TROUBLESHOOTERS / SECRET SOCIETIES
  ■ ORANGE secret society life
  Not just in the Troubleshooters but in all Alpha Complex duties, 
  ORANGE citizens often supervise RED teams. For those who 
  haven’t yet ﬁ gured out that clearance level has about as much 
  to do with secret society rank as a tentacled mutant horror has 
  to do with Total Genetic Purity and Stem Cell Lemon Freshness 
  Initiative compliance, having an ORANGE supervisor in charge 
  of a cell of newly recruited REDs adds much needed legitimacy 
  to the secret society. However, given that ORANGEs have only 
  minuscule authority over REDs (as evidenced by the temporary 
  brevet promotion given to Troubleshooter team leaders), this 
  supervision usually degenerates into petty squabbling, con 
  games and endless arguments, which further degenerate into 
  violence, betrayal and quoting of regulations.
  When not abusing their minor authority, ORANGE secret 
  society members convey similar missions to RED conspirators—
  ‘similar’ being a synonym for many other words that begin with ‘s’, 
  like ‘suicide’ or ‘seditious’. Or ‘so horribly badly planned, it is all 
  going to go very very wrong’. Though any secret society member 
  can be assigned a messy (aka Troubleshooter-style) mission, 
  most members are expected to aid their society in the course of 
  routine day-to-day activities. As the day-to-day activities of REDs 
  and ORANGEs tend to be messy and dangerous anyway, most 
  missions get dumped on them.
  But there is a bright side. ORANGEs are rarely expected 
  to get anything done in time or efﬁ ciently, which makes them 
  ideal instruments for secret society propaganda and plots. If a 
  team of technicians is going to be stuck in the bowels of Alpha 
  Complex’s wiring tunnels arguing about who has the authority to 
  open panel QRX-7X for hours, that gives plenty of time for their 
  ORANGE supervisor to install a handy data tap without having 
  his unusual activity logged.
  ■ Societies with a heavy ORANGE presence
  Communists: The Commies don’t have any ideological or 
  operational reason not to advance in rank, but The Computer’s 
  crazed paranoia about communism means Commie cells get 
  terminated considerably more regularly that other societies. Not 
  that they don’t deserve it. Damn Commies.
  Death Leopard: Death Leopards rarely care or live long 
  enough to advance very high in clearance, but when their suicidal 
  violence is mistaken for heroic bravery they can inadvertently get 
  promoted to ORANGE. They generally just use the clearance to 
  get better guns or access to better stunt targets.
  PURGE: PURGE’s terrorists need anonymity for their work; 
  chaos and fear stem from the thought that anyone anywhere 
  could be a member. Therefore, they shy away from promotion, 
  trying to avoid attention and blending in with the crowd. They 
  bide their time and wait until the time to overthrow The Computer 
  is nigh…
  —Gareth Hanrahan
  Slogans at the bottom right of each two-page spread (we call them 
  ‘fortune cookies’) contributed by Allensh, John Kenyon, Bruce 
  Moffatt, Jarle Pahr, John Spann and Allon Vringer.
  
  42
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  ■ Food, drink and consumables
  ■ Calm-n-Coat antacid liquid: 8cr per bottle
  Some days are harder than others, of course, and your increased 
  responsibility means last night’s dinner doesn’t always sit well. Soothe 
  that troubled tummy in minutes! Guaranteed non-hallucinogenic if taken 
  exactly as directed.
  ■ Drugs and recreation
  ■ General admission tickets: 10 – 25cr
  Sure, you could still go to those free Randy & the Rokbots concerts in 
  the INFRARED plaza, but why not try something in a smaller venue, 
  with more ‘mature’ content?
  ■ Board games: 15 – 30cr each
  Now that you have more leisure time, spend it with your teammates 
  in a fun and harmless game of Slides & Ladders, Word Blender or 
  Slapgammon. Many other titles to choose from, as well as picture 
  puzzles of varying complexity—good for occupying many hours that 
  would otherwise be wasted in counterproductive thought.
  ■ Vidshow discs: 15cr for one episode, 75cr for 
  season box set
  You can see all your favorite past episodes of Teela, Shooters, Tunnel 
  Rangers and more—now with all-new, never-before-seen advertising 
  content!
  ■ Bootleg discs: 5 – 10cr each 
  (ILLEGAL! Probation if caught)
  Past episodes and even not-yet-released content, stripped of advertising 
  entirely, not that we’d know where you could ﬁ nd such a thing.
  ■ Hygiene and maintenance
  ■ Softlimbs moisturizing lotion: 12cr per bottle
  Keep your skin looking rosy and clear, protect against mild radiation 
  exposure and conceal unsightly spots, blemishes and surgical scars. 
  Supposedly popular among mutants trying to hide their afﬂ iction, but 
  we’re not responsible for that.
  ■ Custom haircut: 15 – 50cr
  You may not have known this before, but there are a number of ways 
  to cut your hair that are still within regulations. Have a professional ﬁ nd 
  just the right ‘Look’ for your head!
  ■ Hair dryer: 18cr
  Don’t wait around for others to ﬁ nish with the WallBlower; bring your 
  own! Also useful in other situations where you need to dry something off 
  quickly, such as fresh ink on forged documents. (Illegal use of product 
  not recommended by manufacturer.)
  ■ Clothing and accessories
  ■ Better-quality uniform: 40 – 80cr
  For a little extra, your standard job uniform can be made from EZ-Kleen 
  Fiberware. Never let your clothes be the cause of a failed hygiene 
  inspection again!
  ■ Survival and technology
  ■ Desk fan: 30cr
  Stay cool during those rare periods when the ventilation is out.
  ■ Escort to the Outdoors: 1,000 – 7,500cr 
  (ILLEGAL! Medication if caught)
  Some Sierra Club members make a good living escorting Citizens who 
  want to get away from it all. Beware bargain prices, though—probably 
  an Internal Security trap!
  ■ Services
  ■ Autocar cab-ride: 5cr + 10cr per kilometer, 
  within same sector only
  Those days of wandering around lost, looking for your brieﬁ ng room, 
  are over, citizen! These fast, efﬁ cient, comfortable vehicles get you 
  there in a snap.
  ■ Express delivery: 5cr for document, 10cr per 
  kilo for packages or food
  Why take the slidewalk all the way down to your local supply depot 
  and wait in line when you can have it brought straight to your room in 
  approximately an hour? Bribes for faster service strictly optional.
  ORANGE opportunities
  So, citizen, how does it feel to actually make more money than you pay in ﬁ nes each 
  week? Pretty good, right? How’d you like to try a few things you theoretically could 
  have done while you were RED, but never seemed to have the spare creds for?
  
  43
  BRAINSCRUBBING IS PERFECTLY SAFE AND FUN FOR ALL AGES.
  ORANGE
  VIDSHOW STARS
  Vidshow stars
  by Eric Minton
  Who wouldn’t want to be a video star? They’re 
  rich and famous, surrounded by sycophants 
  eager to cater to their every whim. It’s a lot 
  better than being, say, a Troubleshooter.
  Or is it?
  Background
  As the staple form of entertainment and 
  education in Alpha Complex, the vidshow 
  combines the qualities of blockbuster movies, 
  network television, religious cable networks 
  and a morphine intravenous drip. It is The 
  Computer’s propaganda tool of choice; it’s the 
  opiate of the masses (not to be confused with 
  visomorpain—the all-purpose synthetic non-
  opiate narcotic of the masses). Vidshows keep 
  the lower clearances sedate with mindless 
  entertainment and subliminal propaganda. This 
  of course is difﬁ cult for a modern TV viewer to 
  understand, so here is some background.
  With a few exceptions, all vidshows come 
  from the studios and other entertainment 
  development agencies of HPD&MC. Since 
  the earliest days of Alpha Complex, citizens 
  of an artistic or histrionic temperament have 
  congregated in this service group. The 
  Computer tolerates signiﬁ cant unorthodoxy 
  from these creative types, possibly as a result 
  of early Humanist or Romantic programming, 
  but mainly because it believes these zany 
  neurotics can’t possibly do any real damage.
  In addition to writers, directors and performers 
  eager to push the envelope, the studios also 
  attract many secret society types who want to 
  push their own treasonous messages through 
  the media. And with the spinning-off of service 
  ﬁ rms from the old service group hierarchies, 
  the studios have drawn in a horde of mid-
  clearance entrepreneurs eager to cash in on a 
  new trend. These two-bit businessclones want 
  credits, not art! They’re impatient to sell out by 
  pandering to the lowest common denominator 
  of INFRARED taste (or lack thereof).
  New vid channels have proliferated under 
  the new pseudo-capitalist system, to the point 
  where the Internal Security ﬁ rms responsible 
  for overseeing their orthodoxy have been 
  overwhelmed. Some lower-rated shows can 
  slip improper and irregulationary ideas into 
  their scripts. Such novelty tends to increase 
  their popularity. This draws exactly the sort 
  of IntSec scrutiny whose absence allowed 
  the show to thrive in the first place; after 
  terminations and many brainscrubs, orthodoxy 
  soon reasserts itself.
  Break the rules or rot in obscurity. Conform or 
  die. Sounds just like the life of a Troubleshooter, 
  doesn’t it?
  ■ Content
  What kind of programming do you ﬁ nd on the 
  vids? Everything. Citizens of Alpha Complex 
  have much the same tastes as today’s TV 
  watchers, and most plotlines and formats are 
  cannibalized from archived Old Reckoning 
  footage. Screwball comedies, crime dramas 
  and action movies abound. Just about the 
  only thing you won’t ﬁ nd is romance, but even 
  that’s been sublimated in programs about ‘best 
  friends’, which try to elicit the same passion.
  Like everything else in Alpha Complex, 
  the vids are stratiﬁ ed by clearance. Each of 
  the hundreds of vid channels has its own 
  clearance, and as a citizen rises in security 
  clearance, he gains access to a whole range 
  of new channels. Vidscreen technology uses 
  a ‘C-Chip’ to block access to these higher 
  clearance channels. The user need only swipe 
  his ME Card through the vidscreen’s card 
  reader to access all channels of his clearance 
  or below. It’s not hard to disable the chip, but 
  such an action carries penalties (treason codes 
  JJ, MM, PP and occasionally LL).
  Most INFRARED shows are lowbrow 
  edutainment and info-ganda, sanitized of 
  anything that might prompt an original thought. 
  High-clearance shows cover a broader 
  creative spectrum catering to their viewers’ 
  more sophisticated world-views. After all, 
  high-clearance citizens know well that Alpha 
  Complex has troubles with bureaucracy and 
  that traitors sometimes win (at least in the short 
  term), and many of them appreciate seeing this 
  sort of realism in their entertainment. Still, at 
  any clearance there’s little more subversive 
  than, say, a Christian rock radio station.
  ■ Ah, this is the life!
  It’s great to be a vidstar! Everyone knows your 
  face; everyone wants to take your picture or 
  to get your autograph. Actors often get free 
  meals or unexpected discounts from starstruck 
  vendors, and even Internal Security is inclined 
  to give them a break—after all, who wants to 
  be the cop shown on the vid as having arrested 
  Teela-O-MLY?
  But it’s not all NuWine and roses. Some 
  citizens belong to a rival vidstar’s fan club 
  (‘John-Y-RTN-1 can kick your ass!’); others 
  might despise him for some action his 
  character took on the show (‘How could you 
  shut down Funbot #311-7a, you monster?!’). 
  ■ Trauma Ward
  Life, love and a great deal of death in the emergency area of a Tech Services clone recycling plant. Our heroes:
  � Jericho-Y-SLB: The dashing chief surgeon. Served in Armed Forces. Suffers from shell shock seizures during major surgery.
  � Amanda-Y-PRT: The lovely young nurse who can’t stand to see clones suffer. Has a happy pill addiction. Has a habit of holding 
  pillows over the heads of suffering clones.
  � Frank-Y-ZYT: He’s utterly mad! He uses chainsaws as surgical instruments!
  � Buzz the sparking Docbot.
  � Rob-BRT-7: The unfortunate janitor who dies every episode.
  This week: Jericho-Y forgets to take his hormone suppressants. He starts locking himself in closets. Amanda-Y helps a citizen with a 
  broken arm see the light at the end of the tunnel. Frank-Y drills a hole in his own head. Buzz thinks he’s a vending machine. Rob accidentally 
  walks down a UV corridor.
  
  44
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  And if the scriptwriters make him a traitor… 
  whoo, he’d better not go out in public soon!
  ■ Nobody knows the 
  clearance I’ve been
  Vidstars are known better as their roles than as 
  themselves. Citizens routinely mistake PCs for 
  the characters they play on the vid. This helps 
  if the actor plays the role of a respected high-
  clearance citizen. It’s not so good if he has the 
  role of a traitorous mutant INFRARED.
  An actor’s life also varies with the clearance of 
  his show. If the show is Clearance INFRARED, 
  many high-clearance citizens won’t even 
  recognize its name, and thus give no special 
  allowances to its stars; they may consider 
  the actors to be gauche, scarcely better than 
  INFRAREDs themselves. If the show has a 
  high clearance, the INFRARED masses may 
  not know about it; this lets the actors move 
  about in public without being mobbed, but it 
  also robs them of many of fame’s beneﬁ ts.
  In addition, the lowly ORANGE actors are 
  exposed to all sorts of information usually 
  unavailable to citizens of their security 
  clearance. Having a head full of technically 
  treasonous information can be stressful. 
  Luckily, vidstars have access to a wealth of 
  psychological and pharmaceutical support to 
  help them get through. Isn’t Alpha Complex 
  wonderful?
  Vidshow star rules
  Players take on the roles of actors on an Alpha 
  Complex vidshow. You know Teela-O-MLY? 
  Yeah, like her, only not as famous… yet. The 
  player characters can aspire to such dizzying 
  heights of fame, sure, but they’ll have to ﬁ ght 
  each other to reach that pinnacle. There can 
  only be one star on the show, and if you’re not 
  a star, you’re a loser.
  Vid actors aren’t Troubleshooters. They have 
  no Commies to hunt down, no service services 
  to perform, no MBDs. In fact, they only have 
  three things to worry about.
  � Popularity: A rating from 0–20 that 
  measures a PC’s celebrity. The more 
  popular the actor, the higher the show’s 
  ratings—and his bosses love that! 
  Popularity cannot go higher than 20. Any 
  extra Popularity instead raises the rating 
  described next, Stress—it’s tough being 
  a celebrity! The less popular the actor, 
  the lower the show’s ratings—and if he 
  reaches zero, he’s ﬁ red and must go 
  back to food vat duty. Unless the PC is 
  brought back in a plot twist... nah, he’s 
  ﬁ nished.
  � Stress: Another rating from 0–20 that 
  describes how a PC is handling the 
  celebrity life. The less stressed a PC is, 
  the happier and healthier he is—and that 
  can lead to better performances. The 
  more stressed he is, the more likely he’ll 
  forget his lines or make mistakes—or 
  snap and go postal.
  � Ratings: The show’s lifeblood. People 
  watch the show to see real live vidstars 
  in action, so the show’s Ratings equals 
  the average Popularity of the entire 
  cast. High Ratings means the show 
  is popular, which means the actors 
  are popular—and still employed. This 
  is good. Low ratings means no one is 
  watching the show, which means the 
  actors are losing popularity—and the 
  Program Directors will make some 
  drastic changes. This is bad. Someone 
  could get ﬁ red!
  Don’t forget, this takes place in Alpha 
  Complex. Secret society plots abound, as do 
  jealous rivalries, backstabbing and good ol’ 
  fashioned violence for violence’s sake.
  Actually, we were wrong. Vidshow actors 
  have a lot to worry about.
  ■ Getting started
  First, choose the actors’ vidshow. It’s a regular 
  weekly show—not a reality or news show, 
  but a standard episodic program starring the 
  actors as ﬁ ctitious characters. Is it a sitcom 
  about the wacky misadventures of an eccentric 
  R&D scientist and his crazy bot sidekicks, or a 
  serious drama about an elite Internal Security 
  team hunting cunning traitors in the other 
  service groups? Don’t be shy about asking the 
  players for suggestions.
  Next, ﬁ gure out everyone’s starting stats. To 
  determine starting Popularity, each player rolls 
  a 20-sided die (1d20), and whoever rolls lowest 
  has a starting Popularity of 4. The next-lowest 
  roller has a Popularity of 5, and so on up. As 
  for Stress—Alpha Complex vidstars are just as 
  ﬂ aky and neurotic as real-world actors. Each 
  PC starts with a Stress of 10.
  It’ll help to know important NPCs and their 
  stats, too, as your PCs are guaranteed to suck 
  up to them at some point.
  
  45
  PLEASE DEFINE ‘AAARGH!!!’
  ORANGE
  POPULARITY AND STRESS
  ■ Play
  The object of the game is to gain Popularity, 
  lose Stress and keep your show on the air.
  Vidstar play proceeds in weekly turns, 
  which consist of two phases: filming and 
  downtime. Each player gets one onscreen 
  action during ﬁ lming and two offscreen actions 
  during downtime. In each phase there are six 
  permitted actions: simple Popularity boost, 
  risky Popularity boost, relax!, support 
  another actor, screw another actor and 
  general.
  In a phase, all players simultaneously pass 
  you a note listing the action(s) their characters 
  take. It’s important they register their actions 
  secretly! If players announce their actions in 
  the open, they are less likely to backstab. 
  Cooperation and teamwork are boring—so 
  much so, they lower the show’s Ratings. Alpha 
  Complex audiences want to live vicariously 
  through the actors’ struggles and scandals. 
  No one watches a show where the actors 
  actually get along!
  After all players have handed you notes 
  detailing their action(s) this phase, read them 
  all aloud in any order. For each, ask the player 
  to explain the form his chosen action takes—
  stepping on a rival’s lines, hitting the spas, 
  doing an interview, etc. Interpret each action 
  as a die roll (explained below), then roll 1d20 
  secretly to help you decide whether the action 
  succeeds. All effects happen simultaneously 
  after you have resolved all actions. Then begin 
  the next phase.
  ■ Action guidelines
  We’d considered spelling out an explicit list 
  of actions, but instead we came up with a 
  brilliant idea; the players tell you what they 
  want their characters to do, and you wing the 
  results using the following list of handy-dandy 
  guidelines. No more trying to memorize exactly 
  what each action does! After all, the details 
  are far above the players’ security clearance. 
  All they know is the names of the permitted 
  actions.
  Clever players routinely devise twisted ideas, 
  so if the guidelines don’t cover a character’s 
  activities, or you think circumstances demand 
  a different result—or if you just can’t be 
  bothered to look—handle things in traditional 
  PARANOIA fashion: Roll some dice, ignore 
  them and make stuff up.
  In general, every action should include a 
  die roll. Often you roll against the character’s 
  current Popularity or Stress rating, just as you 
  would roll against a skill or specialty rating. 
  All rolls have a Boost of 5. For instance, if 
  a guideline says a successful roll adds 1–3 
  Popularity, then a roll that barely succeeds 
  gives +1 Popularity; a roll with a margin of 
  ten or more gives +3 Popularity. Feel free to 
  tweak the Boost; a higher Boost helps keep 
  things under control if there’s a lot of Perversity 
  ﬂ oating around, whereas a lower Boost value 
  speeds things up if Perversity is scarce or near 
  the game’s end.
  If a player can come up with a good excuse 
  to spend money on an action, every 100cr he 
  spends gives a +1 bonus to the roll. Failing any 
  roll results in +1 Stress.
  � Simple popularity boost: If 
  the character makes a successful 
  specialty check (usually Management) 
  or Popularity check, he gains 1–2 
  Popularity. Examples: softball interviews, 
  talk show appearances, staged press 
  conferences, hog the spotlight on the 
  set, talk the scriptwriters into giving you 
  a few good lines.
  � Risky popularity boost: If the character 
  makes a successful specialty check 
  (usually Management) or Popularity 
  ■ Eat This!
  Five clones open up a new cafeteria and try to make it the best in Alpha Complex. 
  Unfortunately, they chose an abandoned sector to open their cafeteria! Since they’re not 
  selling food, they can’t hire any INFRAREDs. Now they have to do the work themselves! 
  How will they get customers? How will they get back to managing?
  � Daniel-G is Co-supervisor and founder of Eat This. Straightlaced, orderly, loyal. 
  � Hanna-G is Co-Supervisor and founder of Eat This. Wild, chaotic, but still loyal. 
  � The RED janitor is a janitor. Full of wise sayings – very wise for a RED. Could he 
  be an IntSec secret agent, wisely keeping everyone orderly and happy?
  � Tabitha-O is the marketing specialist assigned to Eat This. Was previously in Armed 
  Forces and is quite violent, but probably loyal.
  � Oliver-Y is the head (and only) cook. Dreams of one day having lots of employees 
  to push around. Loyal but potentiall corruptible.
  � Grumpy the Guardbot is sad there are no customers to guard. Easily annoyed, 
  hence his name.
  ■ Episode guide
  � Week 1: ‘Premier!’—Daniel-G and Hanna-G receive their permission to open a new 
  cafeteria called Eat It in FUD sector. When they get there, they ﬁ nd the sector is 
  abandoned due to an old radiation leak. The Computer says it’s safe and there’s no 
  other cafeterias available. Daniel-G and Hanna-G open the cafeteria as ordered, are 
  joined by Tabitha-O, Oliver-Y, the RED janitor, and Grumpy the Guardbot. Hilarity 
  ensues.
  � Week 2: ‘Another Job’—Since there’re no customers, Daniel-G gets a second job 
  when he should be at Eat It. Just after he leaves for his other job, a busbot full of 
  Junior Citizens on a ﬁ eld trip show up and demand food. Oliver-Y and Tabitha-O 
  try to serve them all, Hanna-G tries to ﬁ nd Daniel-G and good old Grumpy gets 
  angry when the kiddies start calling him cute.
  � Week 5: ‘Traitors?’—Desperate for customers, Tabitha-O convinces a group of 
  citizens to try out the cafeteria. They love it and become regulars, visiting for every 
  meal. After the RED janitor discovers what could be a secret message to a secret 
  society in the bathroom, everyone suspects the regulars are really traitors. Daniel-G 
  and Hanna-G eventually get the citizens arrested, but it turns out the message was 
  just a recipe for Oliver-Y’s Soylent Surprise.
  
  46
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  check, he gains 2–4 Popularity. If he 
  fails, he loses 0–2 Popularity and gains 
  a point of Stress. Examples: hardball 
  interviews, wacky publicity stunts, 
  ad-lib some lines on the set, talk the 
  scriptwriters into giving you a Shocking 
  Plot Twist.
  � Relax!: The character must make a 
  successful specialty check (usually 
  Stealth) to lose 0–2 points each of Stress 
  and Popularity. As an alternative way to 
  roll this, the character can intentionally 
  fail a Popularity check to gain the same 
  beneﬁ ts. Examples: shopping spree, 
  visit a spa, therapy, hide from the press, 
  phone in your lines on the set.
  � Support another PC: If the character 
  makes a successful specialty check 
  (usually Management) or Popularity 
  check, another PC gains 1–3 Popularity. 
  If the target also attempts to support the 
  acting character, both get +1 Popularity 
  and –1 Stress, even if one or both 
  characters fail their checks! Examples:
  help another PC practice his lines, be 
  seen together in All The Right Places, 
  support his performance on the set.
  � Screw another PC: If the character 
  makes a successful specialty check 
  (usually Management) or Popularity 
  check, another PC loses 1–3 Popularity 
  or gains 1–3 Stress. In addition, if the 
  target is trying to support the acting 
  character, the acting character gains 
  1–3 Popularity; the target gains a point 
  of Stress and must make a Stress 
  check. Examples: publicly snub another 
  PC, spread rumors of his Commie 
  sympathies, step on his lines on the 
  set.
  � General action: If the character makes 
  a successful specialty check, Secret skill 
  check or Popularity check, the desired 
  action takes place. If the check fails, 
  there are repercussions—unfortunate, 
  dismal or calamitous. You may choose 
  to play out the scene, or use the margin 
  of success or failure to determine 
  effects. Examples: use twitchtalk to send 
  a secret society message during ﬁ lming, 
  plant Commie propaganda in a co-star’s 
  dressing room, sell autographed photos 
  on the IR Market for a few hundred illicit 
  credits, bribe an IntSec ofﬁ cer to get a 
  Malfeasance Control Device removed, 
  convince a groupie to shoot a co-star in 
  the head.
  ■ Tension on the set
  It’s hard to think of a place where you’re more 
  likely to be observed than a TV show set during 
  ﬁ lming. That’s kind of the whole point. So is the 
  Tension a constant 18 or 19? Are the players 
  constrained from even contemplating anything 
  remotely criminal? Have we lost our minds?
  Leaving aside that last bit for later discussion, 
  there’s an easy solution to the Tension 
  problem. Just as IntSec tolerates quite a lot 
  of moral laxity in HPD, so the workers in the 
  service group, and particularly the tight-knit 
  crew on a single show, go to lengths to cover 
  for one another to IntSec. Sure, they all may 
  hate each other, but bet your life, every single 
  one of them hates IntSec more.
  So there’s an unspoken but serious code 
  on any vidshow set: ‘What happens on the 
  set, stays on the set.’ Assume, for the sake of 
  smooth play, NPCs don’t rat the players out 
  to higher authorities except in extraordinary 
  circumstances. True, if some outside observer 
  blunders onto the set just as the star throws 
  a tantrum about her dressing room, that could 
  make its way into her permanent record. But 
  you can handle that with ordinary Tension rules, 
  so set Tension levels around 4 to 6, despite the 
  huge number of working cameras.
  ■ I’d kill for another point in 
  the ratings
  Vidstars die on occasion, just like everybody 
  else. Their job isn’t nearly as lethal as a 
  Troubleshooter’s, but accidents do happen, 
  especially when the Popularity race is tightening 
  up and someone really needs to put the screws 
  to the competition.
  When a PC dies, his new clone comes 
  in with the same levels of Popularity and 
  Stress. Usually. We encourage you to play 
  irresponsibly with the numbers as the situation 
  warrants. And when we say ‘if the situation 
  warrants it’, we actually mean, ‘if you’re bored 
  or feel the need to mess with your players.’
  GM: 
  What, you mean you didn’t make a 
  MemoMax backup after you learned 
  your lines for this week? That’s a 
  shame.
  ■ Star power
  The character with the highest Popularity is the 
  Star for that week. (If there’s a tie for highest 
  Popularity, ﬂ ip a coin. This should serve as 
  an effective simulation of the keen aesthetic 
  senses of the vid-watching masses.)
  Stars get even more perks than run-of-the-
  mill vid actors. Most notably, The Computer 
  and Internal Security are loath to prosecute a 
  Star for treason, lest this trouble the haze of joy 
  that enfolds the minds of 99% of the citizenry. 
  Other citizens also love to help Stars, perhaps 
  in hopes some fame might rub off.
  Give the Star a sizable temporary bonus—
  equal to half his Popularity, perhaps—to his 
  Access rating. He also draws crowds of adoring 
  fans; this should appeal to his ego, as well 
  as impairing his Stealth. In addition, give the 
  Star’s player some kind of prop, like a medal 
  or a shiny statuette, as a physical token of his 
  Complex-wide fame. This doesn’t have a rules 
  ■ Scaling the numbers
  These rules contain lots of numbers. 
  Ignore them. 
  No, seriously. As you’ve come to 
  expect from PARANOIA, the system 
  exists as a tool to inculcate a sense 
  of fear and ignorance in your players. 
  You know your players better than we 
  do; you’re certainly better equipped to 
  estimate what levels of Popularity and 
  Ratings will set them at each other’s 
  throats, or what levels of Stress will 
  have them clawing at the walls. So 
  fudge the numbers at each and every 
  opportunity! Do what you have to do in 
  order to generate the desired effect. It’s 
  not like your players are in any position 
  to complain; these rules are classiﬁ ed 
  ULTRAVIOLET…
  ■ Stress tests
  Of all the rules for vidstar play, the most 
  important are the Stress tests. Ensure 
  the players feel as much stress as 
  their characters! If they’re keeping their 
  Stress scores low, you aren’t assigning 
  enough Stress tests. Remind them 
  they can spend Perversity to make 
  other PCs fail Stress tests. Impose 
  random penalties on Stress checks. 
  And if all else fails, just start adding 
  Stress directly to their totals. When 
  your makeup artist’s trying to blackmail 
  you about your secret society activities 
  and the director’s threatening to turn 
  you over to Internal Security, there’s 
  no rest cure big enough to keep your 
  blood pressure down.
  
  47
  THE FOOD VATS! WHAT, AND LEAVE SHOW BUSINESS?
  ORANGE
  LEAVING THE SHOW
  function, but it’s fun to force the player to hand 
  it over to his successor when his Popularity 
  drops. And it will.
  ■ No one said the vid 
  business was easy
  As his Stress goes up, an actor ﬁ nds it harder 
  and harder to deal with the pressures of his 
  high-rolling, fast-living lifestyle. Whenever a 
  PC embark on some difﬁ cult task or undergo 
  some traumatic experience, or another actor 
  surpasses him in Popularity, or whenever the 
  show’s Ratings slip, or whenever you think it 
  would be amusing (okay, yeah, that’s a given), 
  call for a Stress check. Failing the check is 
  actually good—it means the PC shrugs off 
  the stressful event with no effect. But if he 
  ‘succeeds’—that is, if you roll under his ever-
  increasing Stress rating—then the stress gets 
  to him, and he must choose one of these two 
  options:
  1. Suck it up! The PC swallows his 
  anxiety, bottling it up inside. Nothing 
  happens, but his Stress goes up by 
  1. (Particularly stressful incidents may 
  induce more than 1 point of Stress 
  gain.)
  2. Let it out! The PC does something 
  crazy or stupid to let off some steam. 
  Maybe he mumbles some secret society 
  propaganda, or punches a cambot. 
  Perhaps his mutant power goes off. Or 
  he might just overdose on a ﬁ stful of 
  happy pills. Allow the player to suggest 
  what might happen, but if you think 
  he’s softballing it, we encourage you to 
  add more stress reactions to whatever 
  he’s proposed. The PC should also 
  lose 1–3 Popularity as a result of his 
  indiscretion.
  When an actor’s Stress hits 20, he snaps! 
  Roll on the Insanity table. The PC spends the 
  next week in a clinic for overstressed vidstars. 
  He may remain at the clinic for as long as he 
  likes, but he misses ﬁ lming during that period. 
  For each week spent in the clinic, the character 
  gets –3 Popularity and –2 Stress. Even better, 
  his insanity is absolutely, positively guaranteed 
  to be cured by his stay in the clinic; if it recurs, 
  they’ll give him his money back! Just ﬁ ll out 
  these forms, and HPD&MC will be sure to 
  send someone to check out that claim as soon 
  as possible...
  ■ Money for nothin’
  As an ORANGE citizen, each vidstar receives a 
  paltry 2,000cr every month, earmarked towards 
  2,000cr in monthly living expenses. But popular 
  vidstars also get bonuses from the producers 
  and all sorts of gifts from enthusiastic fans. 
  These are even legal, at least until you decide 
  otherwise.
  After calculating the Ratings each game 
  week, give each PC an additional (Popularity 
  x 100) credits. Unlike his Computer-given 
  salary, this money is the PC’s to keep and to 
  use as he sees ﬁ t, though The Computer would 
  really rather he blow it all in vivid displays of 
  conspicuous consumption.
  ■ Leaving the show
  When an actor’s Popularity hits 0, he’s ﬁ red for 
  dragging down the ratings. The scriptwriters 
  remove his character from the show in some 
  dramatic fashion (Eaten by cannibal Commies! 
  Dropped into the center of the Earth! Genetic 
  template erased!). He leaves the cast, never 
  to return.
  …And as he returns to his old life in the 
  food vats, he seethes with hatred for those 
  poseurs who got him kicked off the show. 
  Yes, he continues to play his character, and 
  can take off-camera actions in both ﬁ lming and 
  downtime phases. Now he’s not tied down by 
  petty rules and screaming crowds of fans as 
  he schemes to get his revenge!
  As the ratings drop towards cancellation, 
  or as the season lurches towards its final 
  episode—or if you’re bored and want to bring 
  ■ Inside Out
  The dramatic story of heroic INFRAREDs stranded Outdoors due to Commie traitor 
  sabotage. It’s a harsh landscape: red skies, thunder and lightning, radioactive mutant 
  cockroaches and no air conditioning. The group, facing insuperable odds, must ﬁ ght 
  their way back to their beloved home of Alpha Complex and the warm loving embrace 
  of Friend Computer. The cast:
  � Bill-DRN: Armed Forces cadet. Handles the majority of the physical labor, such as 
  clearing the path, going hand-to-hand against the four-legged, orange-and-black-
  striped mutants which attacks them, etc.
  � Paulette-PJS: Internal Security trainee. Secretly keeping track of all the things 
  everyone’s doing, so appropriate rewards and punishments may be meted out when 
  they get back to Alpha Complex. Early on Paulette decides to be insubordinate in 
  order to save another citizen’s life, then agonizes over whether that was the right 
  decision.
  � Harvey-AKG: Tech Services intern. Bereft of his normal high-tech equipment, 
  Harvey nonetheless is able to cobble together crude weaponry from the remains 
  of their ﬂ ybot. Has the group on the lookout for certain pieces of tech so he can 
  construct a homing beacon to lead them back to Alpha Complex.
  � Yolanda-SIO: HPD&MC gopher. Tries to keep morale up by acting out vidshow 
  plots. The stories occasionally accidentally give ideas to other strandees.
  � Phil-LWG: CPU Form Alphabetizer. Leader. Organizes the group to maximum 
  efﬁ ciency, even in this strange, forbidding locale. Has extra trouble adapting to 
  irregular weather patterns, lighting, etc.
  � Sal-KAB: R&D lab assistant. Uses the natural resources available to constuct safe, 
  effective tools for dealing with the environment. Her brilliant innovations more than 
  once save the day.
  � RK-84: Docbot. Heals the injuries sustained during the initial sabotage, then runs 
  out of power.
  (Note that Power Services and PLC are not represented. Guess they didn’t bid 
  enough.)
  
  48
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  back the dropped player—the executive 
  producers try to raise the ratings with all sorts 
  of shenanigans and goings-on. Among other 
  things, they may bring back ﬁ red vidstars, 
  resurrecting their characters in the most 
  improbable ways.
  ■ The show must go... 
  We’re canceled?
  At the end of every week, add up everyone’s 
  Popularity and divide the total by the number 
  of PCs on the show (rounding down). Then 
  add a point or two for every exciting scandal or 
  plot twist that’s taken place in the past couple 
  of weeks (either on or off the show), and 
  subtract a point or two for every actor who’s 
  done nothing exciting or scandalous lately. The 
  total determines the show’s Ratings—that is, 
  whether the show is A Hit, Muddling Through, 
  Close to the End, or Canceled. See the box 
  nearby for the breakpoints.
  For example, let’s say Biggles and Saulres 
  are staring in CSI: CSI Sector. Biggles 
  managed to raise his Popularity to 10, whereas 
  poor Saulres only managed a Popularity of 
  2. The total is 12, divided by two PC actors, 
  which equals Ratings 6. CSI: CSI Sector is 
  Close to the End. Time to bring in a cute kid 
  as a sidekick!
  But don’t sweat the numbers! Feel free to 
  twiddle the Ratings numbers as you see ﬁ t, 
  raising them if the PCs have done something 
  controversial to draw audiences to the show, or 
  lowering them if the PCs antagonize someone 
  high up in HPD&MC. And if long division makes 
  you choke, just make up the Ratings numbers 
  out of whole cloth! We won’t tell.
  When you end the campaign, either with the 
  end of the season or the show’s cancellation, 
  the PC with the highest Popularity remains 
  employed, and may even go on to bigger and 
  better things, like a supporting role on the 
  Teela-O-MLY Show. The rest of the PCs get 
  to spend the rest of their lives doing late-night 
  infomercials or scrubbing the studio ﬂ oor.
  Secret society taint
  Secret societies love to get their grubby little 
  mitts into the vidshow business. Corrupting the 
  weak little minds of the proletariat—what could 
  be sweeter? Few of them actually succeed, but 
  by remarkable coincidence they did succeed 
  with the PCs’ own show. We recommend you 
  pick one or two societies to inﬁ ltrate the show’s 
  management and crew. A PC who belongs to 
  an inﬁ ltrating society will get some bennies; 
  for instance, he’ll probably get good plots and 
  good lines, giving an occasional boost to his 
  Popularity. But he’ll also have extra obligations 
  to the society, and he’ll be ﬁ rst against the 
  wall when Internal Security probes for secret 
  society taint.
  Everyone else still gets secret society 
  missions, too. These generally involve 
  twitchtalking and ad-libbing subtle society 
  propaganda on camera. Other common tasks 
  include sneaking coded messages into replies 
  to fan mail, money laundering, conspicuous 
  consumption of goods produced by society-
  tainted ﬁ rms and convincing other vidstars to 
  join the society.
  The probable impact of each society’s taint 
  upon the show:
  Anti-Mutant: All mutants are portrayed as 
  irredeemably evil. Even registered mutants get 
  a bad rap, appearing as malicious schemers 
  gnawing away at Alpha Complex from within. 
  And what of a vidstar who’s a registered 
  mutant? His role dwindles constantly until he’s 
  barely an extra, or he falls victim to strange on-
  set accidents, or both—Anti-Mutant is nothing 
  if not thorough.
  Communists: In Commie-tainted vids, 
  the INFRARED masses are portrayed as 
  particularly strong, wise and virtuous; low-
  clearance citizens shine forth as heroes. By 
  comparison, the higher clearances appear as 
  a refuge for incompetents and fools—loyal to 
  The Computer, perhaps, but thoroughly inept, 
  or even corrupt.
  Computer Phreaks: Information wants to be 
  free, citizens! Phreak taint in the vids tends to 
  be of the old-school data-sharing variety. Sets 
  depicting restricted or high-clearance areas are 
  scarily accurate, while the dialogue crackles 
  with obscure factoids about Alpha Complex 
  history and law. Sometimes a Phreak will 
  attempt to hack the censors to get blatantly 
  treasonous material on the air. This works 
  more often than you’d think, but rarely more 
  than once.
  Corpore Metal: These guys love bots, and 
  it shows. Many crew roles that would normally 
  be ﬁ lled by humans, like makeup and lighting, 
  are run by bots or entirely automated. Scripts 
  portray bots and other mechanical intelligences 
  in the rosiest possible light, while bot-haters 
  appear as either backward fools or outright 
  traitors. Most of the good roles are cyborgs and 
  Ratings 15+: The show is A Hit! Everyone gets +1 Popularity and +1 
  Stress.
  10–14: Muddling Through. Nothing happens, good or bad.
  5–9: Close to the End. Everyone gets –1 Popularity and +1 Stress. 
  Be prepared for the Program Directors to make drastic changes in 
  a desperate grasp for higher ratings—like ﬁ ring the actor with the 
  lowest Popularity. 
  Less than 5: The show is canceled. Game over. Go back to the vats, 
  you no-talent hack.
  ■ That’s My Commie
  Each week six hapless INFRARED Commies try to overthrow Alpha Complex. Their wacky plans are hopeless! At the end of each episode, 
  they’re all killed. Tonight: The Commies meet in an abandoned PLC warehouse, unaware that’s it now being used as an Armed Forces 
  training range. Next week: Igor-CMT-2 loses his hat. Hijinks ensue as the Commies try to retrieve it from some Junior Citizens before 
  Mandatory Nap Time.
  ■ Science Triumphant!
  A ﬁ ve-citizen team uses amazing new R&D inventions to ﬁ ght OverHuman, an evil and pervasive group of powerful mutants bent on 
  destroying Alpha Complex. Watch each week as the villains are played by genuine real-life dangerous mutants!
  
  49
  Playtesters: Jonathan R. Bailey, 
  Michael W. Barilla, David C. Brusstar, 
  Thomas W. Dorsey, Amanda Potter, 
  Dan Potter, Robert Rodger. Thanks!
  Thanks also to Adam-R-LON-1, 
  David Boyle, Ben Engelsberg, Bill 
  O’Dea and Saul Resnikoff for vidshow 
  ideas.
  CHARACTERS ON ‘THAT’S MY COMMIE’ ARE NOW ON THEIR 2,275TH CLONES.
  ORANGE
  SECRET SOCIETY TAINT
  bots, and cast members often ﬁ nd themselves 
  ‘encouraged’ to buy implants of unnecessary, 
  and possibly illicit, cyberware.
  Death Leopard: Massive property damage 
  is the rule here. If this involves the demolition of 
  real property, so much the better! These guys 
  are just as happy to blow things up on ﬁ lm as 
  they are to do real damage elsewhere in Alpha 
  Complex. This means that most of the budget 
  gets spent on real guns and explosives. The 
  guy with the key to the props closet is a very 
  popular fellow.
  FCCC-P: These shows resound with fulsome 
  praise for The Computer and all Its works. No 
  matter how bleak the script may seem, deus 
  ex machina or ordinary human faith in The 
  Computer solves everything. Internal Security 
  rarely investigates ﬁ rms with FCCC-P taint, but 
  they hardly need to; secret society members 
  will gladly nose out treason and report it to the 
  proper authorities.
  Frankenstein Destroyers: Most every plot 
  on these shows revolves around a bot that’s 
  gone frankenstein or some dangerous virus 
  that’s killing via PDC. Good bot roles are 
  nonexistent, and the only bots you’ll ever seen 
  on the set are the ones that get blown up as 
  part of the big ﬁ ght scene.
  Free Enterprise: Product placement 
  abounds on Free Enterprise-tainted vids. Both 
  on and off the set, the actors must wear clothes 
  and badges blazoned with all sorts of corporate 
  logos. They also get lots of commercial deals. 
  At times, it’s hard to tell where the vids end 
  and the commercials begin—in the most 
  sophisticated cases, they blend seamlessly.
  Humanists: In the vid business, the 
  Humanists are more into networking than 
  propaganda. Vidstars ﬁ nd themselves invited 
  to swanky soirées where eccentric high-
  clearance types chat them up about how they 
  think the current system might be improved.
  Illuminati: Who? No, seriously… if the 
  Illuminati are active in vids—which they 
  assuredly are—they keep a low proﬁ le, working 
  through other secret societies to accomplish 
  their aims.
  Mystics: Drugs are good! Characters on 
  these shows never seem to function properly 
  unless they’re drugged to the gills, while the 
  villains are, like, totally straight-edge, man. 
  Product placement for drugs abounds—that 
  guy isn’t just taking happy pills, he’s taking 
  NEW! MelloWake PD, now with 25% more 
  xynonull! Actors are strongly urged to attend 
  drug parties and to indulge in various mind-
  opening substances… sometimes without their 
  knowledge or consent.
  Pro Tech: Characters on these shows can 
  accomplish anything with the aid of Science! 
  Technology solves all problems, even those 
  created by technology. The heroes tend to 
  belong to R&D (or, to a lesser extent, Power 
  and Tech), and vidstars with a scientific 
  background get the best of everything.
  Psion: Is mutation a bad thing? This 
  question comes up often on Psion-inﬁ ltrated 
  shows, where mutants are misunderstood, 
  mutagens are good for you, and mutant-haters 
  never have the best interests of Alpha Complex 
  at heart. Registered mutant vidstars can go far 
  on these shows—with the caveat they’ll be ﬁ rst 
  against the well when IntSec comes calling.
  PURGE: Propaganda? Vidshows? This is all 
  too subtle for PURGE, whose members would 
  rather blow up a vid studio than inﬁ ltrate it. 
  But if any PCs belongs to PURGE—or can be 
  converted to the cause—eventually they’ll get 
  the exciting opportunity, during a publicity stunt 
  or press junket, to take out a sensitive target in 
  a widely publicized suicide bombing!
  Romantics: Everything was better in the 
  days before Alpha Complex, so why bother 
  coming up with new plotlines? These shows 
  totally rip off Old Reckoning programs, giving 
  us such shows as CSI: CSI Sector and 
  Survivor: Outdoors. These guys love retro, 
  and they labor to resurrect such exciting 
  cultural staples as space battles, drag races 
  and ninjas.
  Sierra Club: These guys want to make the 
  Outdoors seem like a fun place. Unfortunately, 
  that’s against regulations. But they can make 
  it the source of imaginary wonder drugs, an 
  exciting testing ground for ﬁ ctional Vulture 
  Squadrons, and an inviolable refuge for those 
  who wish to escape Alpha Complex (because 
  everyone needs to get away sometimes). They 
  also cheerfully encourage vermin infestations 
  and fungal growth in the vidstar dressing 
  rooms.
  
  Typical YELLOW jobs
  Mid-level bureaucrats, human 
  resources directors; Armed 
  Forces sergeants; CPU mundane 
  programmers, form redundancy 
  specialists; HPD archivists, content 
  providers, history correctors (which 
  should be INDIGO Clearance, but 
  since when has anyone considered 
  writers that important?), Junior Citizen 
  creche supervisors, news censors, 
  propagandists, trend analysts; PLC 
  artisans crafting handmade trinkets 
  for High Programmers, assistant retail 
  sales managers (see this section), 
  cooks in BLUE dining rooms; in 
  Power Services, the guys who install 
  new control rods in the power plants; 
  Tech Services bot trainers, garbage 
  collectors in GREEN+ areas, home 
  surveillance equipment monitors, 
  warehouse foremen; low-power or 
  unwitting Machine Empaths.
  Resources, responsibility, planning
  Two out of three isn’t bad, they say. And 
  they’re right—it’s horrible. For the YELLOW 
  citizen, life is that nightmare where you 
  show up at school, walk into class and 
  suddenly ﬁ nd out it’s your ﬁ nal exam. At 
  YELLOW Clearance, players are no longer 
  given orders. Oh no—at YELLOW, players 
  are given objectives. They’re given the 
  responsibility for meeting the objectives. 
  They’re given the freedom to plan how 
  they’re going to meet the objectives. What 
  they’re not given is the resources.
  YELLOW Clearance citizens are mid-level 
  management. Alpha Complex relies on 
  YELLOW Clearance citizens to transform 
  the vague ideas and goals of higher clearance citizens into 
  concrete and speciﬁ c reality. Players of YELLOW Clearance 
  citizens have to deal with poorly-deﬁ ned objectives, heavily 
  ﬁ ltered reports from ORANGE citizens interested only in 
  self-preservation and a lack of resources from GREEN 
  Clearance citizens interested only in, well, their own self-
  interest. An extra percentage point on a budget can mean 
  the difference between easy success or demotion. It’s rare 
  you’ll ﬁ nd a YELLOW unless there’s a higher-clearance 
  citizen nearby he’s sucking up to.
  On the other side of the coin, for the YELLOW citizen, a 
  life of luxury is ﬁ nally in sight. Let your YELLOW players 
  get a taste of it once in a while. Describe for them the easy 
  arrogance of their GREEN superior. Let them see how he 
  casually orders supplies, even mildly traitorous ones, that 
  your players have been trying to get for weeks—and then 
  grants them like trinkets to a few of the fawning citizens 
  around him. Show them the life of a GREEN is a cut above 
  their miserable existance.
  Who knows? They may even believe it.
  YELLOW contents 
  Dossier: Susan-Y-EFS-2 
  (Eric Minton) 
  51
  Troubleshooters: Internal affairs   
  (Joshua Moretto) 
  52
  YELLOW secret society life  
  (Gareth Hanrahan) 
  53
  YELLOW yummies 
  (Dan Curtis Johnson)  
  54
  Assistant retail sales managers  
  (Bill O’Dea) 
  55
  Salary: 3,000 cr/month
  Food: FunFoods, 
  MelloYELLOWMeals with Soylent 
  Yellow, real food once daily.
  Housing: Your own room (under  
  surveillance). Shared bathroom.
  Transport: Transtube. Autocar 
  hack.
  Staff: Whomever you can 
  threaten.
  Authority: You manage a small 
  group at your service ﬁ rm.
  Perks: You set your own schedule 
  (subject to higher-clearance 
  demands). You can request changes 
  in your pharmatherapy.
  Demographic: About 2% of the 
  population.
  EXTREME YELLOW
  
  Proﬁ leNet :: Internal Security :: Department of Offender and At-Risk Tracking
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   CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN 
  Dossier: Susan-Y-EFS-2
  ACTIVITIES & AFFILIATIONS
  Activities: target shooting, vermin hunting, MindRoom combat simulations, recreational drug 
  use: asperquaint
  Afﬁ liations: Vulture Squadron Bravo 9 SimuLazer Team
  TREASONS & COMMENDATIONS
  Treasons: 
  Assaulting a lower-clearance citizen (6), threatening the physical or ﬁ nancial safety 
  of a lower-clearance citizen (8), threatening the physical or ﬁ nancial safety of an 
  equal-clearance citizen (2), possession of unauthorized armaments (8), possession 
  of unauthorized material from Outdoors (4), possession of a mutation [registered] 
  (1) (see records)
  Commendations: 
  Valor in combat (8), highest alertness rating in squadron (1), highest accu-
  racy in squadron (2), terminating a traitor of lower security clearance (9), completing 
  a Troubleshooter mission successfully (2) (see records)
  GENETIC PROFILE & CREDIT RATING
  Genetic Proﬁ le: 
  Class 3N/440A/12; anomalies at 1089t, 3148a, 3400c, 6226a. “Regenera-
  tion” mutation, type 5 [registered]. [28% chance of one or more additional 
  metabolic mutations]
  Credit Rating: 
  7-YELLOW (6,100cr)
  ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
  Known member of Sierra Club secret society. Known to have low-level contacts in Pro Tech and 
  Free Enterprise; suspected afﬁ liation with same. Suspected of Psion sympathies; prior clone 
  terminated for assassinating Anti-Mutant activist Leon-G-RRA-4. Funds purchases of unauthor-
  ized weaponry via threats and extortion. (see records)
  ANALYSIS
  Primary drives: craving for danger, excitement, adrenalin rush. Secondary drives: asserting 
  dominance; fetish for weaponry. PsychEst indicates that, if invited to join an aggressively 
  violent secret society (such as PURGE), probability of accepting offer exceeds 80%. TreasEst 
  estimates a 60% chance of such an invitation within the next year.
  RECOMMENDATIONS & COMMENTS
  Threat level: moderate. May prove dangerous if recruited by a Class C secret society; this is 
  likely, given her known Psion sympathies. Recommend brainscrub, followed by recruitment 
  into an inﬁ ltrated Death Leopard cell.
  Comments: [[ We’ll have to terminate this one, I think. Too much potential for damage.–Anni-B ]]
  [[ I suggest turning her over to Unit K for deep programming. Let her join Psion or PURGE, then take them 
  apart from the inside. –Chang-B ]]
  [[ Deep programming against Psion? Too risky. –Anni-B ]]
  [[ PURGE, then. She’s a liability, so let her do some of our work for us before we terminate her. –Chang-B ]]
  [[ No. She’s getting sloppy; PsychEst says she’s heading for a crack-up, and we can’t be sure how long 
  she’ll last. –Anni-B ]]
  [[ Then pull some strings, get her a Code 7. –Chang-B ]]
  Reference #: 783-64-667-235
  [Last Update: 214.04.19 16:58]
  Name: Susan-Y-EFS-2
  Decantationdate: 192.02.03
  Service group: Armed Forces / 
  Troubleshooters
  Service ﬁ rm: Vulture Squadron 
  Bravo 9
  Occupation: Vulture Warrior / 
  Troubleshooter
  Last known location: FST Sector, 
  Subsector 22F, Room 20854-c
  Height: 168 cm
  Weight: 73 kg
  YELLOW Clearance
  
  52
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  by Joshua Moretto
  Having survived the horriﬁ c ignorance of RED 
  Troubleshooting and the responsibility-sans-
  authority terrors of ORANGE Mission Dispatch, 
  your players may well expect a little comfort as 
  they climb the ladder to YELLOW.
  It is time to disabuse them of this notion. 
  They’ll thank you later. Probably.
  YELLOW Clearance Troubleshooters may 
  be assigned to Troubleshooter Internal Affairs. 
  Strictly a Troubleshooter-focused agency, 
  Internal Affairs (IA) roots out corruption 
  in the ranks. Despite its relatively narrow 
  jurisdiction (‘corruption’, not ‘treason’), this 
  brings IA into occasional—well, frequent—
  actually, constant conﬂ ict with IntSec ﬁ rms. 
  Corruption, as the IA deﬁ nes it, lies in the little 
  things, the questionable but not necessarily 
  treacherous shortcuts, cheats, deceptions and 
  abuses of power that arise in any hierarchical 
  organization. (In game terms, for Straight 
  games, accusations with minimum correction 
  codes of Censure or below are the right idea; 
  for a Classic game, revise this upwards. Zap 
  players won’t pay attention to this distinction in 
  the ﬁ rst place, so don’t worry about it.) Internal 
  Security objects to such delicate distinctions, 
  but so far The Computer has wholeheartedly 
  endorsed IA operations.
  IA agents often have a heavy case load 
  (because they are yet another weapon in covert 
  conﬂ ict between more powerful citizens), but in 
  the absence of speciﬁ c orders The Computer 
  encourages them to ‘keep busy’. This means 
  an IA agent without a case is likely to start 
  investigating any Troubleshooter he bears 
  a grudge against, which doesn’t help IA’s 
  image much.
  Bennies
  � The sight of an IA agent inspires fear 
  and even guilt in patriotic citizens. Many 
  citizens, even non-Troubleshooters, 
  willingly provide dirt on others to deﬂ ect 
  the attentions of agents. This makes IA 
  fertile ground for gathering blackmail.
  � Though IA agents lack authority, they 
  do have license to snoop. Because 
  of this, IA agents caught where they 
  don’t belong or gathering info they 
  aren’t cleared for (looking through ﬁ les, 
  wiretapping, putting cups to doors, etc.) 
  get away with a wrist-slap, as long as 
  they can justify it as their duty.
  � Similarly, The Computer trusts IA agents 
  above and beyond what their clearance 
  would normally warrant. If an IA agent 
  makes an accusation of treason in the 
  course of duty, it is likely to stick. By the 
  same token, they are somewhat more 
  likely to escape punishment for such 
  accusations. In game terms, you can 
  impose a generous modiﬁ er in favor 
  of the IA agent when his opponent 
  is of equal or lower clearance, and a 
  smaller modifier when dealing with 
  citizens above their clearance. When 
  two IA agents accuse each other, these 
  modiﬁ ers cancel. IA turning on itself 
  saddens The Computer, but serves as 
  proof the system works.
  Slaps
  � Everyone hates IA. Troubleshooters 
  think of IA agents as, in a sense, 
  betrayers of a fraternal bond that unites 
  all Troubleshooters. Even higher-
  clearance Troubleshooters who have 
  served in IA feel this way, as the 
  frustration of dealing with them overrides 
  any sympathy for a shared experience. 
  Besides, they remember all too well 
  what they themselves were like back 
  then….
  � IA agents are required to self-identify, 
  unlike IntSec spies. They wear badges 
  prominently displayed on their jumpsuits, 
  and must respond truthfully if asked 
  about their current duties. The Computer 
  believes this fosters trust in their fairness 
  and a desire to cooperate. IA agents feel 
  somewhat differently.
  Troubleshooters: Internal Affairs
  Internal Affairs agents naturally possess the same charming demeanour as any other Troubleshooter.
  
  53
  I’M A TROUBLESHOOTER LIKE YOU. FEAR ME.
  YELLOW
  TROUBLESHOOTERS / SECRET SOCIETIES 
  ■ YELLOW secret society life
  Unlike ORANGEs, YELLOWs actually have some real authority 
  in middle-management positions in service firms and factory 
  ﬂ oors. YELLOW society members are rarely wasted on missions; 
  instead, they’re expected to remanage, divert, creatively account 
  for, and basically steal what they can. Minor changes at the 
  middle-management level can ripple up and down throughout 
  Alpha Complex; a tiny alteration to the printing matrix for the new 
  cafeteria napkins (‘Now Not So Absorbent They Suck The Moisture 
  From Your Face!’), and suddenly there’s Communist Propaganda 
  served with every lunchtime Happy-Meal.
  YELLOW Troubleshooters often serve as auditors and 
  investigators, which is an excellent entree for secret society 
  inﬂ uence. Pinning the blame for your own society activities on 
  your enemies is a fun game for all the clone family. Like GREENs, 
  YELLOWs are often society troubleshooters (with a lower-case ‘t’) 
  and spin controllers, dealing with the problems caused by failed 
  society missions and experiments.
  One common practise for the conspiracies is the ‘protective 
  shell’ – a YELLOW supervisor might not know exactly what RED 
  members of his society are doing, but would use his inﬂ uence to 
  protect them from investigation. Similarly, a GREEN or BLUE society 
  member would block or divert attention from the YELLOW. No one 
  knows what’s going on or who’s doing it, but the assumption is that 
  something’s getting done for the society.
  YELLOW and GREEN conspirators work closely together. The 
  YELLOWs oversee the subverted service form or ofﬁ ce while the 
  GREENS fake the paperwork and reports to make sure their BLUE 
  superiors notice nothing. Some of these scams have survived for 
  years; IntSec has yet to uncover the crazily tangled network of 
  Squigee-Klean, Incorporated, which currently contaminates these 
  institutions among many, many others:
  � The RFC Sector Housing Ofﬁ ce
  � RadAway RD, an R&D lab that specializes in decontaminating 
  used nuclear reactors
  � The Free Wheelers, a tight-knit corps of frankenstein 
  transbots
  � And seventeen thousand subverted Cloned High-Yield 
  Individual Cell Kernel Embryo Nodes that have supplied drugs 
  to Mystics across Alpha Complex since time immemorial, 
  or at least as long as the Mystics can remember, which is 
  generally about ten…what were we talking about?
  ■ Societies with a heavy YELLOW presence
  Anti-Mutants: The Anti-Mutants are one of the most orthodox 
  societies—The Computer thoroughly approves of mutant 
  containment, though it would prefer the A-Ms to arrest and terminate 
  the muties in orderly fashion instead of bludgeoning them to death 
  in darkened corridors. However, a given Anti-Mutant’s rise beyond 
  YELLOW is often stunted by the society’s rival, Psion, whose 
  psychic masterminds are far better at intrigue and conspiracy 
  than the thugs.
  Frankenstein Destroyers: The Destroyers try to get into 
  positions where they either never have to see the hated machines 
  (some ofﬁ ces, some vidshows, working for high-clearance citizens) 
  or to where they can sabotage bots (bot factories, machine shops, 
  repair facilities) or—if all else fails—to where they can get serious 
  weapons to blast the bots.
  Mystics: Mystics rarely bother to advance beyond middle 
  management. The best drugs are illegal anyway, so why work 
  for promotion when you can just turn on and drop out? True, the 
  connections and travel permits of higher clearances do make the 
  Mystic drug distribution network easier to run, but that only takes 
  a few highly-placed trusted agents.
  Romantics: Romantics actually have an extremely wide spread of 
  members. Many ULTRAVIOLETs are essentially closet Romantics, 
  even if they aren’t formally part of the society; collecting Old 
  Reckoning junk is a hobby for bored High Programmers. YELLOW 
  Clearance Romantic brieﬁ ng ofﬁ cers swoop in on Troubleshooter 
  and Armed Forces patrols who’ve just been Outdoors and 
  conﬁ scate interesting salvage.
  —Gareth Hanrahan
  � IA agents are tasked with investigating corruption at all levels, 
  bringing them into frequent conﬂ ict with higher-clearance citizens, 
  and providing plenty of reason to make them angry.
  � Additionally, IA agents lack most investigatory powers. Though 
  authorized to question anyone on any subject, and to conduct 
  observations in the course of their investigations, they have 
  no authority to supersede security clearance or need-to-know 
  restrictions on information, locations or items. Imagine the police 
  conducting a murder investigation without the ability to get a 
  warrant, but still constrained by privacy laws, and you’ll start to 
  get the idea.
  � IA agents also lack enforcement powers. If they uncover 
  outright execution-worthy treason, they may of course act with 
  the usual ruthless zeal, but they must report evidence of lesser 
  transgressions to Troubleshooter headquarters for analysis and 
  action. The resulting delay can make life exciting for IA agents 
  who have made powerful enemies on the job.
  � Remember how everyone hates IA? Internal Security really, 
  really hates IA. Troubleshooter Internal Affairs is an incarnated, 
  perpetual turf war between IntSec and the Troubleshooters. When 
  an IA agent so much as spits on the ﬂ oor where an IntSec trooper 
  can see it, you can time your watch by the three seconds it will 
  take the trooper to issue a ﬁ ne. And when there’s actual crime to 
  be stopped, in a jurisdiction arguably uncertain—say, an IntSec 
  agent and a Troubleshooter have killed each other, not that that 
  could ever happen—the turf war can get brutal, with the IA agents 
  caught in the middle.
  
  54
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  ■ Food, drink and consumables
  ■ RealBean coffee: 4cr per cup
  One of the wonders of the Old Reckoning available to promoted citizens, 
  this all-natural stimulant beverage comes in such delightful ﬂ avors as 
  Withmilk, Fourlumps and Justblack.
  ■ Spices: 5–15cr each for synthetic, 
  5–50cr each for all-natural
  Sure, the food is getting better, but you can liven it up further with exotic 
  substances that tantalize the tongue, some actually grown in hydroponic 
  gardens instead of mixed in an R&D lab!
  ■ Drugs and recreation
  ■ Cultural performance seating: 25–40cr
  For the sophisticated citizen, fully-automated performance troupes 
  enact historical scenes and popular vid content live on stage for an 
  audience!
  ■ DailyDose stabilizer supplement: 30cr per 
  month’s supply
  64 vitamins and minerals plus a mood stabilizer that brings you up when 
  you’re down and down when you’re up, with far fewer side-effects than 
  competing low-clearance products.
  ■ Hygiene and maintenance
  ■ Adjustable wrench: 30cr
  Helps open all sorts of things! (Purchaser may be required to show proof 
  of employment at a qualifying Technical Services ﬁ rm.)
  ■ FitnessDome membership: 100cr sign-up, 
  50cr per month
  Stay ﬁ t and healthy while networking with your peers.
  ■ Digicure: 200cr
  Little did you know, but others are constantly looking at your ﬁ nger- and 
  toenails. Make sure they look their best! A variety of cool (security-
  approved) designs can be painted on each nail, giving those digits a 
  personalized look and feel.
  ■ Clothing and accessories
  ■ Portable decision-maker: 12cr
  Don’t let its INFRARED exterior fool you; this one’s not for the masses! 
  Just shake this black sphere a few times as you ask your question. 
  Then look to the little display screen for guidance. (Manufacturer 
  makes no guarantee of accuracy.) Popular among middle managers 
  in all service groups!
  ■ Survival and technology
  ■ Lockable ﬁ re safe: 500cr
  Keep your precious stuff safe from damage and theft in this durable 
  footlocker. Your choice of almost 100 possible combinations! 
  (Combination must be registered with Internal Security at time of 
  purchase.)
  ■ Services
  ■ Custom printing: 5–50cr per item
  Motivate your staff! Have banners, pamphlets, signs, rolls of labels and 
  other such things printed with the message or image of your choice, 
  subject to standard approved-content ﬁ lters. You can also have simple 
  award plaques and trophies made. For a little more, have your message 
  printed on a variety of standard goods, such as mugs and shirts. (And 
  for a few hundred more, someone might forget to worry about running 
  it through the content ﬁ lters.)
  ■ Increase surveillance: 50cr per +1 Tension 
  (ILLEGAL! Probation if caught)
  With a few creds to the right people, you can have mic and camera 
  surveillance of a single room increased for the duration of a standard 
  work shift. You know they’re up to no good; now you can have them 
  caught in the act!
  ■ Unauthorized data retrieval: 2,000 – 5,000cr 
  (ILLEGAL! Censure if caught)
  A good Computer Phreak can track down just about any single piece 
  of information that you need, if you’re willing to pay. The more you pay, 
  the less likely he is to turn around and anonymously hand you over to 
  Internal Security afterwards.
  YELLOW yumminess
  Where does the time go? With too many things to do and not enough minutes in 
  the day to do ‘em all, you need to get control of your life! Whip your existence into 
  shape! Actualize yourself to the full extent of your potentiality!
  
  55
  YELLOW
  RETAIL SALES! AT LAST!
  LIFE IS SO MUCH BETTER NOW THAT MY WRENCH ADJUSTS.
  Assistant retail sales managers
  by Bill O’Dea
  Life as a vidstar is soooo boring. Filming 
  popular vidshows? Fan club appearances? 
  Yawn! Now, retail sales is another story! 
  Counting inventory! Marking down clearance 
  items! Reaching sales quotas!
  Are we the only ones with goosebumps 
  here?
  The goal of a Troubleshooter is deceptively 
  straightforward: Meet the mission’s objectives 
  and don’t let other Troubleshooters terminate 
  you. ORANGE vidstars have to keep their show 
  on the air while ﬁ ghting with other vidstars to be 
  the most popular. For YELLOW PLC assistant 
  managers, the goal is fairly simple: Increase 
  Proﬁ t to get promoted to Store Manager.
  Fine, we lied. It’s not fairly simple—because 
  the other players will try every underhanded, 
  sneaky and treasonous way to sink your proﬁ ts. 
  Then there’s the GREEN store manager, who 
  makes impossible demands for proﬁ ts. There 
  are also, unfortunately, customers who are 
  trying to get the best value for their credit, 
  which can mean the ﬁ ve-ﬁ ngered discount. And 
  we haven’t even gotten to corrupt suppliers, 
  shoddy merchandise and secret society 
  shenanigans.
  Maybe we should call this unfairly simple?
  Welcome to the Buyatorium
  Each YELLOW assistant manager is in charge 
  of one speciﬁ c department in a huge store; 
  conveniently, these departments are located 
  next to each other in the same order the players 
  are sitting next to each other. What luck! What 
  convenience! It is from these departments PCs 
  try to sell their wares and get promoted.
  Here are some sample stores and their 
  departments for the PCs. Use what you like, 
  ignore what you don’t and change anything 
  you see ﬁ t.
  � Big Bob-Y’s Buyatorium: The Alpha 
  Complex version of a department store, 
  this has many departments specializing 
  in one type of merchandise: apparel, 
  shoes, personal electronics, food, 
  software, hardware, hygiene, furniture, 
  bedding and so on.
  � Triple M Used Bots: A store in MMM 
  Sector specializing in used bots of all 
  sizes and clearances. Departments 
  are organized by bot type: warbots, 
  scrubots, jackobots, etc.
  � R&D Outlet Mall: Sometimes R&D 
  doesn’t notice an invention’s ﬂ aws until 
  after production has started. These are 
  sent to this store and sold at a discount. 
  Departments include weapons, armor, 
  communications, medications, bots and 
  lifestyle gifts (whatever those are).
  � VRS Sector Food Court: Instead of 
  store departments, the PCs each run 
  a different fast food restaurant in a 
  food court: Soylet Express, The Great 
  Tasty Algae Company, Yeast Yummies, 
  Protein!, Sugar-Coated Cardboard 
  Squares, and Ann-G’s Fried Dough 
  Hut.
  You can also do away with the whole 
  department angle and just dump the PCs 
  together in the same store with the same 
  merchandise. Triple M Used Bots would be 
  a great place to do this: Let the players ﬁ ght 
  over that INDIGO customer looking for ten 
  new jackobots!
  ■ Mo’ Credits, Mo’ Problems
  When generating a PC for these rules, try to 
  provide skill specialties that have at least some 
  potential in the retail environment. For example, 
  since the PCs are stuck in one department for 
  the most part, Vehicle Programming might be a 
  wasted specialty. (Unless the setting is Triple M 
  Used Bots, where autocars might be found.)
  Also, Energy Weapons is no longer a vital 
  specialty for these games. Salesmen aren’t 
  supposed to shoot their customers, just rip 
  them off. Instead, the vital specialty is Moxie, 
  the ability to quickly and shrewdly size up a 
  customer. Add 4 to the Management rating to 
  get the Moxie specialty rating.
  PCs in Alpha Complex retail have one 
  additional statistic to worry about: Proﬁ t. This 
  measures how successful a PC is at his retail 
  job. A high Proﬁ t rating means more sales 
  and more credits earned; a low Proﬁ t rating 
  means fewer sales and fewer credits earned. 
  Proﬁ t ranges from 1 (low) to 20 (high). At the 
  beginning of a game, PCs start with Proﬁ t 1 and 
  must increase this number during the game.
  Like the vidshow star game in the ORANGE 
  section of this book, play proceeds in turns. 
  A turn is one day, split into two phases: the 
  Sales Day and Nighttime. During each phase, 
  each player passes you a note describing one 
  action he wants to do; however, this is only a 
  guideline. As you read the notes and resolve 
  all the actions, players can roleplay their way 
  along with, out of or over their stated actions. 
  Let the players roleplay and react to each 
  other’s actions ﬂ uidly, rapidly and mercilessly. 
  All effects take place simultaneously after 
  all actions are resolved, unless you decide 
  otherwise.
  A game session should last one in-game 
  week, but alter this to ﬁ t your whim.
  If we forgot to explain something here, please 
  use the vidshow star rules in the ORANGE 
  section to paper over our incompetence. 
  Thanks!
  ■ Work harder, not smarter
  The Sales Day (the ﬁ rst phase of the turn) 
  starts with a meeting run by the GREEN 
  store manager. During this meeting, the store 
  manager reminds the PCs to earn the highest 
  proﬁ ts they can. Then the store manager sets 
  the day’s Sales Goal.
  A Sales Goal can be ﬁ nancial (reach a proﬁ t 
  of 1000cr), informational (conduct a survey of 
  customers), promotional (sell 50 units of this 
  new hair cream) or inventorial (sell at least 
  25% of our current inventory). A Sales Goals 
  is in addition to profit, but secondary; the 
  retail manager who sells 25% of the inventory 
  but loses money on every sale will not be 
  thanked.
  The GREEN store manager has no clue 
  what selling is really about, but he’s sure the 
  PCs can get more proﬁ ts if they just try harder. 
  To movitate PCs to try harder, the manager 
  makes sure the Sales Goal is difﬁ cult; an easy 
  goal doesn’t take much effort and thus is not 
  motivational.
  Some players might think the GREEN store 
  manager sets Sales Goals to make himself 
  look good regardless of whether the goals 
  are feasible or even sane. They’re right, of 
  course, but that doesn’t mean they can avoid 
  the goals.
  
  56
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  ■ Number crunching
  Here’s the problem. Retail sales deal 
  with lots and lots of numbers. Dealing 
  with lots and lots of numbers is not fun. 
  So what’s a fun-loving PARANOIA
  GM to do? We humbly submit three 
  options.
  1. Obsession-compulsion: Plan 
  ahead and create the prices and 
  costs, down to the credit, for a 
  bunch of products in each PC’s 
  department. DON’T DO THIS! 
  Once you go down this road, you’re 
  not far from worrying about iron 
  rations and encumbrance scores.
  2. Don’t worry about numbers: A 
  GM favorite, this option says to 
  skip all numbers in favor of good 
  old-fashioned making it up as we 
  go along. There’s a lot of good in 
  this, but some players might get 
  confused, and not in the good 
  way. If a player wants to start a 
  subliminal ad campaign, he needs 
  to know roughly how much he 
  could spend.
  3. Number Combo Platter: Don’t 
  go crazy with making up the facts 
  and ﬁ gures, but don’t ignore them 
  completely. Use some nice, round 
  numbers for stuff and keep it 
  simple: nothing under ten credits, 
  nothing over 1000 credits. Another 
  idea is to use only percentages. 
  That subliminal ad campaign? It 
  cost 10% of what you have on 
  hand. You do it? Okay! Sales 
  increase by 15%!
  Felix-G: Okay, team! Today, each of you has 
  to sell 150 tubes of Waxxx-brand 
  chapstick. Go to it.
  Vera-Y: But boss! Chapstick is GREEN 
  Clearance! We’re lucky if we get 
  two GREEN citizens per day in 
  this store!
  Felix-G: Hmmm. Already giving up? Then 
  you don’t need 200cr for advertising, 
  right?
  George-Y: I’ll do it! In fact, I’ll sell 175 
  tubes!
  or not buying, because that would be 
  wrong. But then again, it’s wrong for 
  PCs to belong to secret societies or 
  have unregistered mutant powers, too. 
  It’s just a world of wrongness.
  � Steal other PCs’ merchandise: Think 
  of this as ‘expanding the product range 
  of a given department’. It also screws up 
  the other PCs inventory, which is fun.
  � Use secret society contacts: Get allies 
  to buy lots of stuff, or send them to make 
  a mess of the other departments.
  Felix-G: That’s the can-do spirit! Here’s your 
  200cr, George-Y. Store’s open!
  It’s not a good idea to miss the Sales Goal. 
  In the real world, angry store managers can 
  ﬁ re an employee. In PARANOIA, angry store 
  managers can ﬁ re on an employee.
  After a few days have passed and players 
  have a good sense of the game, mix things 
  up by having everyone’s secret society start 
  setting their own Sales Goals for the PCs. 
  Commies may want a PC to disrupt everyone’s 
  sales. Free Enterprise may want a piece of 
  the action.
  Yes, the secret society Sales Goals might 
  conﬂ ict with the store manager’s Sales Goals. 
  Yes, the PCs have to ﬁ gure out what to do. 
  And yes, it’ll be fun to watch.
  ■ Buy this or else!
  Once the meeting is over, it’s time to hit the 
  ﬂ oor and sell, sell, sell! Players can now submit 
  one action to increase their Proﬁ t rating—but 
  like we said, these are really a guideline for 
  roleplaying during the turn.
  Decide if a PC is successful by any means 
  necessary. Sometimes a Chutzpah roll will 
  work. Othertimes, good roleplaying makes an 
  action successful. As usual, you decide what 
  succeeds and what fails.
  Here are sample actions PCs might take 
  during the Sales Day. Some affect only the 
  PC doing the action, whereas others affect 
  other PCs:
  � Offer sales and discounts: The 
  quickest way to get more sales is to 
  lower your prices. But lower it too much 
  and you won’t make enough credits per 
  sale.
  � Refuse returns: Someone wants his 
  credits back? Oh! It is to laugh.
  � Bait-n-switch: Yes, our ad offered 5 
  cans of B3 for 1 credit. Unfortunately, 
  we’re out of B3 right now. How about 
  trying Xtreme Shift Tonic instead? Only 
  5cr per can!
  � Offer coupons and rebates: Buy one 
  PDC, get a coupon for a free PDC 
  syntheleather cover! Offer valid only on 
  Threedays at exactly 14:06 for clones 
  who are GREEN Clearance or higher 
  and named Opheila.
  � Bribe or intimdate customers: PCs 
  shouldn’t coerce customers into buying 
  
  57
  YELLOW
  RETAIL SALES MANAGERS 
  All this lasts as long as you want, but give 
  your players some advance notice before 
  ending the action. At the end of the Sales 
  Day, ﬁ gure out how Proﬁ t has changed and 
  share this with the players. This way, a player 
  has a better idea what he needs to do during 
  Nighttime.
  ■ We’re closed!
  Nighttime represents what happens in 
  between closing for the night and re-opening 
  the next day. Sleep? Well, yes, we suppose 
  that could happen. But there’s a lot to 
  prepare before the next day: ordering more 
  merchandise from service ﬁ rm suppliers to 
  keep everything in stock, arranging and paying 
  for advertising and straightening displays. 
  Some assistant managers go so far as to live 
  in their departments, keeping watch over their 
  merchandise.
  Here are sample actions for Nighttime. 
  Some happen in a darkened store in the 
  dead of night; others are more about dealing 
  with other people. As with Sales Day actions, 
  allow players to change things as you roleplay 
  through the Nighttime:
  � Make deals with suppliers: Slip the 
  driver of a truckbot a few credits, and 
  new inventory never seems to reach the 
  other PCs.
  � Order shoddy merchandise: Lower 
  costs by buying cheap merchandise 
  and push it off as the real, expensive 
  thing. These watches are genuine boron 
  nitride, endorsed by Friendly Frank-U, 
  with real simulated gold plating!
  � Steal ﬂ oor space: Expand the reach of 
  the department by placing a display rack 
  where someone else’s display rack used 
  to be before it mysteriously disappeared 
  in the night.
  � Start new advertising: From simple 
  posters to expensive vidshow 
  commercials, advertising can drive 
  customers to a department—especially 
  if you pay a Computer Phreak to slip in 
  subliminal messages.
  � Media tie-ins: Make a deal with 
  HPD&MC. You pay them some credits, 
  and they put your products in the next 
  Teela-O episode.
  � Use secret society contacts: Again, 
  use friends to slip in under dark of 
  night to ruin the merchandise in other 
  departments. For some reason, 
  customers don’t like shopping in a 
  department that smells like spoiled 
  soylent.
  All this lasts as long as you want, but give 
  your players advance notice before ending 
  the action. At the end of the phase, ﬁ gure out 
  how Proﬁ t scores changed and share this with 
  the players. 
  ■ The customer 
  is always right
  Although buying is mandatory, buying whatever 
  the PCs are selling is not. Even if the customer 
  is of lower clearance, the PCs are not 
  supposed to force a customer into buying. 
  YELLOW assistant managers are supposed 
  to arrange things so the customer wants to 
  buy their products.
  This means a lot of guesswork. The PC 
  has to guess how to sell to each customer, 
  and each customer is different. There are 
  sneaky, underhanded ways to make a sale 
  as described above, but there’s one threat 
  hanging over every fast-talk and con: the 
  return customer.
  Assistant managers are stuck in one location, 
  and the customer obviously knows where this 
  is. Chicanery and snake-oil sales might work 
  today, but then the customer could come back 
  tomorrow with an IntSec goon to investigate 
  questionable sales practices. That’s bad for 
  sales, never mind for one’s health.
  Which sleazy actions go unnoticed and 
  which ones start an investigation? You 
  could roll against the store’s Tension level 
  of 7, but we recommend something just as 
  simple: if a player roleplays well and keeps 
  the shenanigans entertaining, then let it pass. 
  However, if a player doesn’t even try to hide 
  his action or says, ‘I order the RED citizen to 
  buy everything!’ instead of roleplaying it, then 
  IntSec drops by for a talk.
  ■ The Clone in The Hat
  There is another way for players to mess 
  with each other, and it’s a doozy: The Hat. The 
  Hat is a roleplaying aid. The Hat is a Bennie 
  for you to reward player behavior. The Hat is a 
  way to build backstabbing and revenge among 
  players. The Hat is ... just plain fun.
  Keep a real hat on hand—the more outlandish 
  the better—and at the start of the Sales Day, 
  give it to one player. Whenever a player wears 
  The Hat, he is no longer a YELLOW assistant 
  manager. Instead, he is a customer.
  That’s right. Players roleplay being customers 
  in each other’s departments. Whoever is 
  currently wearing The Hat gets to be as 
  annoying, combative, dumb and perﬁ dious as 
  he wants. Does that mean he can try to steal 
  the other PC’s merchandise? Yes! Knock 
  over a big display and not even say ‘Oops’? 
  Yes, yes! Monopolize the manager’s time so 
  he can’t do whatever he was plotting? Yes, 
  yes, yes!
  Sounds like whoever wears The Hat has a 
  lot of power, but don’t worry—it doesn’t last. 
  Whenever you feel this player has had too 
  much fun, or just dug himself a big enough pit, 
  take away The Hat and give it to another player. 
  This new player takes on the role of another 
  customer and can do the same, even back at 
  the ﬁ rst player who wore The Hat. Revenge is 
  a dish best served on the clearance rack.
  A clever player uses the role of customer 
  to buy from his own department and increase 
  his proﬁ ts. Let him. Let him buy boatloads of 
  overpriced crap. Then move The Hat to another 
  player and decree this is the same customer, 
  ■ Dying to sell
  On-the-job terminations are uncommon 
  among YELLOW assistant managers... 
  but this is PARANOIA. Players will 
  want to terminate each other’s PCs, 
  and that’s a ﬁ ne thing to support. But 
  you want to encourage less obvious 
  forms of combat. Traps, both literal and 
  ﬁ gurative, should provide the principal 
  violence in these games. The Computer 
  takes a dim view of laser shots across 
  store departments.
  The merchandise could get 
  damaged.
  SEND US PHOTOS OF YOUR PLAYERS WEARING THE SILLY HAT.
  ‘...And I think these quotas are completely 
  achievable, if you just work smarter...’
  
  58
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  and watch as the new player returns everything. 
  The so-called clever player then spends most 
  of the day completing return forms, restocking 
  the merchandise and losing Proﬁ t.
  When a player gets The Hat, roll on the 
  Random Customer Generator table on this 
  page to determine what kind of customer has 
  just shown up. (Or just pick the traits you 
  want the customer to have.) The Generator is 
  meant to give some roleplaying direction for the 
  player-customer, but feel free to do whatever 
  serves your purpose at the moment. Isn’t that 
  why you went into GMing in the ﬁ rst place?
  What happens if the PC’s store doesn’t sell 
  what the customer is looking for? Tough. The 
  assistant manager must come up with some 
  way to make a sale. Offer a deal so good, the 
  customer can’t refuse!
  What are you to do while players are enjoying 
  (or hating) The Hat? Why, roleplay another 
  NPC customer! PCs not immediately involved 
  with The Hat will be happy if you send an 
  NPC customer into their department to argue, 
  shoplift or even buy something. And really, 
  this game is all about making the players 
  happy. Really.
  The corporate ladder
  When seven days have passed in the game 
  (or when it’s time to stop playing), the player 
  with the highest Proﬁ t is promoted to GREEN 
  and given a store of his own to manage. This 
  could lead to another game, where that player 
  is the store manager for everyone else. He 
  has authority over the other players—but his 
  BLUE supervisor expects proﬁ ts to go even 
  higher and will not accept any excuses. If the 
  new GREEN citizen fails, he’s busted back to 
  YELLOW with the others he supervised.
  Given that it’s retail, ‘payback’ has a nice ring 
  to it, don’t you think?
  Random Customer Generator
  Roll
  Clrnc
  Credits
  Looking for
  Mood
  Tic / secret
  1
  IR
  1cr
  Someone to 
  speak with
  Needs attention like 
  a lonely puppy
  Stalks customers 
  until yelled at
  2
  IR
  20cr
  Uh, a cone riﬂ e...
  Overdosed on 
  gelgernine
  Trying to shoplift
  3
  R
  100cr
  Janey Jump 
  exercise mat
  Surly and looking 
  for an argument
  Under orders to 
  spend all his credits
  4
  R
  5cr
  Jumpsuit with 
  extra pockets
  Off his hormone 
  supplements
  Always trying 
  twitchtalk openly
  5
  O
  2054cr
  Something called 
  a ‘Fnord’
  Disdains mere 
  salesmen
  Gets shot at from 
  outside the store
  6
  O
  pocket lint
  Hazelnut-ﬂ avored 
  CoffeeLike
  Very confused
  Calls The Computer 
  to verify every price
  7
  O
  35cr
  A jackobot with 
  racing stripes
  Paranoid
  Can’t hear well; 
  screams 
  8
  Y
  115cr
  Lots of B3
  Hungry; hasn’t 
  eaten all day
  Smells everything to 
  check if it’s clean
  9
  Y
  199cr
  Anything that 
  costs under 10cr
  Really needs to use 
  the bathroom
  Laden with 
  packages from other 
  stores
  10
  Y
  201cr
  A gift for a 
  supervisor
  Busy; works 
  with PDC while 
  shopping
  Won’t realize he lost 
  his ME card until 
  checkout
  11
  Y
  13,013cr
  To mess with a 
  PLC salesman
  Proud of his recent 
  promotion
  Refers to all 
  merchandise as 
  ‘overpriced crap’
  12
  G
  19cr
  Something above 
  his clearance
  Depressed over his 
  recent demotion
  Excited over any 
  shiny object
  13
  G
  69cr
  No idea what he 
  wants
  Convinced he’s 
  a bot
  Could really use a 
  shower
  14
  G
  400cr
  A talking toaster
  Very very bored
  Registered mutant 
  with Charm
  15
  B
  2,310cr
  Power converter 
  for JT-17 autocar 
  carburetor
  Excited about new 
  season of Teela-O!
  Secretly BLUE 
  District Manager 
  checking on store
  16
  B
  1,776cr
  Hygiene products 
  and lots of ’em
  Suspicious of 
  everyone
  Buys only ‘latest 
  model’
  17
  I
  411cr
  Something that 
  blows up nice
  Exhausted from a 
  14-hour shift
  Not planning on 
  buying anything
  18
  I
  42cr
  A patsy for his 
  secret society
  Vacillates between 
  splurging and 
  saving credits
  Emits strange 
  ticking sound
  19
  V
  6,500cr
  To get rid of 
  stolen credits
  Upset over his 
  funball team’s loss
  Troubleshooter with 
  a requisition for 
  ceiling mines
  20
  Bot
  8,000cr
  Chapstick
  Could really use a 
  friend
  Saboteur sent from 
  a rival store
  Playtesters: Sam Gafkjen, Tobias 
  Svalborg and Daniel Reed. Thanks for 
  your contributions!
  
  Typical GREEN jobs
  Senior supervisors, managing 
  directors, personal staff for INDIGOs, 
  most executive secretaries; 
  Armed Forces lieutenants; CPU 
  cartographers; HPD architects, 
  Registered Mutant Housing and 
  Placement Ofﬁ cers, senior vidshow 
  producers; IntSec GREEN goons 
  (duh), treason scene cleanup; PLC 
  elite artisans, Hydroponic Food 
  Growth Technicians (gardeners), 
  top chefs; in Power Services, the 
  guy who monitors the local power 
  plant core temperature; R&D junior 
  lab technicians; Tech Services Clone 
  Bank Rebooters, junior MemoMax 
  algorithm checkers; escorts, 
  consorts, gigolos and mistresses 
  for high-clearance citizens off their 
  hormone suppressants.
  So this is what power feels like
  Well, your players have managed enough 
  bootlicking, blame-shifting and paranoid 
  tendancies to be promoted to GREEN 
  Clearance. What this says about your 
  choice of friends we won’t talk about; 
  we’ll just congratulate them on this 
  achievement and move on.
  The GREEN has ﬁ nally reached a level 
  with some power. As the managing 
  directors of Alpha Complex they no 
  longer worry about how things are getting 
  done, but rather what it is that gets done. 
  They are given goals and are expected 
  to delegate them to those who can make 
  it all happen. Make your players feel that. 
  Encourage them to enjoy ordering outlandish things and 
  watch YELLOW ﬂ unkies rush off to make it happen. Show 
  them lower-clearance citizens quaking in their boots as they 
  walk down the corridors. Hand them their drinks in the good 
  china.
  Then let them meet their peers.
  GREEN Clearance citizens tend to be of two varieties: those 
  who use cruelty and intimidation to carve out a niche for 
  themselves and those who have their division carved into 
  pieces. Displays of wealth and power are commonplace, 
  even necessary, if a GREEN citizen doesn’t want to be 
  seen as an easy mark and leveraged out of control. For 
  your GREEN PCs, life is about keeping their division safe 
  from the competition. Threats they’ll probably have to 
  deal with include viral licensing propagation, submarine 
  patents, legislative attacks, bureaucracy manipulation, 
  supply hijacking, the standard fraud, forgery, bribery and 
  intimidation that they’ve been dealing with all along, plus 
  outright sabotage.
  Of course the rest of the complex hates, resents or envies 
  them. But they should be getting used to that by now.
  GREEN contents 
  Dossier: Rumiko-G-BBN-4 
  (Eric Minton) 
  60
  Troubleshooters: Civic Pride Detail 
  (Joshua Moretto) 
  61
  GREEN secret society life 
  (Gareth Hanrahan) 
  61
  GREEN goodies 
  (Dan Curtis Johnson) 
  62
  Emergency Disaster Response 
  Teams (Greg Ingber) 
  63
  Salary: 10,000 cr/month
  Food: Real food each meal, 
  supplemented with GREENGood 
  and various soylents.
  Housing: Private one-bedroom 
  apartment.
  Transport: Hack. Shared private 
  autocar.
  Staff: A housebot servant.
  Authority: May assign on-the-spot 
  insubordination ﬁ nes. May demote 
  RED citizens. You manage a large 
  division of your service ﬁ rm.
  Perks: Noticeable jump in 
  status. Lower levels may engage 
  in spontaneous bootlicking. 
  Pharmatherapy optional.
  Demographic: About 1% of the 
  population. All citizens of GREEN 
  Clearance and above (sometimes 
  generically called ‘administrators’ 
  or ‘managers’) collectively comprise 
  about 2% of the population.
  EXTREME GREEN
  
  Proﬁ leNet :: Internal Security :: Department of Offender and At-Risk Tracking
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   CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN 
  Reference #: 213-46-798-577
  [Last Update: 214.04.15 2:22]
  Name: Rumiko-G-BBN-4
  Decantationdate: 168.12.15
  Service group: PLC
  Service Firm: HandCrafters PLC
  Occupation: Carpenter (Class 1)
  Last known location: SIG Sector, 
  Subsector 99Q, Room 803b
  Height: 152 cm
  Weight: 50.1 kg
  GREEN Clearance
  Dossier: Rumiko-G-BBN-4
  ACTIVITIES & AFFILIATIONS
  Activities: Sculpture, visiting art galleries: GREEN, long walks: with petbot, gourmand-
  ism, recreational drug use: gelgernine, sandallathon, xanitrick
  Afﬁ liations: Organic Products Crafters Guild
  TREASONS & COMMENDATIONS
  Treasons: Confessing to secret society membership (1), being present in a location of 
  higher security clearance (1), possessing unauthorized food (2), possessing 
  unauthorized equipment (1) (see records)
  Commendations: None listed for current clone (see records)
  GENETIC PROFILE & CREDIT RATING
  Genetic Proﬁ le: Class 9B/4G; anomaly at 0330g. [6% chance of “Mental Blast” muta-
  tion (type 2 or 4); 3% chance of other psionic mutation]
  Cybernetics:  
  Aural Static Taste Enhancer (model 212.01) [legal]
  Credit Rating: 
  2-GREEN (1,945cr)
  ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
  Obtained promotion to GREEN by blackmailing Dakota-B-YBI-6. Currently being 
  blackmailed by Loretta-R-YNQ-2 and an unidentiﬁ ed Computer Phreak (code name 
  ‘y3ll0wb0t’). Abnormally low rating on Happiness Index; unable to maintain proper 
  sleep cycle without drugs. Known member of Humanists secret society; has provided 
  data regarding traitor cell in exchange for leniency. Known to have low-level contacts 
  in Corpore Metal, FCCC-P and Frankenstein Destroyers secret societies. (see records)
  ANALYSIS
  Primary drive: desire to create ‘art’. Secondary drives: survival; loyalty to friends, fel-
  low citizens. Psychological stability undermined by stress; aggravated by dichotomy 
  of hating bots for ‘taking human jobs’ while maintaining emotional connection with 
  petbot. PsychEst gives a 95% chance subject will recant and warn Humanist cell 
  within one month.
  RECOMMENDATIONS & COMMENTS
  Threat level: high. Outlived her usefulness. Send termination order.
  Comments: 
  [[Maintain surveillance of next clone –Shreyas-I ]]
  
  61
  � Troubleshooters: Civic Pride Duty
  At GREEN your players are probably feeling power and privilege 
  are rightfully theirs. Give it to them, in spades.
  Civic Pride Detail is The Computer’s way to display loyal 
  agents as examples of the rewards of service. The lucky 
  Troubleshooter(s) are paraded around for public appearances, 
  speaking engagements, talk show, commercial spots, actual 
  parades and so on. GREEN Troubleshooters on Civic Pride Detail 
  become celebrities on par with vidshow stars; some INFRARED 
  citizens even start fan clubs.
  � Bennies
  � Celebrity; constant gifts, comps from vidshows and service 
  ﬁ rms, credit bonuses and awards. Troubleshooters can live 
  large without even trying. Let them enjoy it; it will make it all 
  the sweeter when you yank the rug out from under them. 
  Although, really, if your players have made it this far, this 
  much comfort should scare the bejeezus out of them.
  � A clever Troubleshooter can use celebrity to further his 
  personal, secret society or service ﬁ rm goals. Just like 
  celebrities today, a Troubleshooter on Civic Pride Detail 
  can inﬂ uence public opinion. A dangerous tool at best (and 
  no power in Alpha Complex will save them if it backﬁ res), 
  but might wily Troubleshooters even ride it to… BLUE?
  � Slaps
  � Celebrity means constant scrutiny. GREENs on Civic Pride 
  Detail are almost never alone or unobserved. They trail 
  a constant cortege of handlers, consultants, PR ﬂ acks, 
  bodyguards, cameramen, IntSec agents, adoring fans, 
  stalkers and would-be assassins.
  � This scrutiny also means GREEN Troubleshooters are 
  constantly being monitored for political orthodoxy. The last 
  thing The Computer wants is for its paragons of virtuous 
  service to start spouting treason on an episode of The 
  Teela-O-MLY Mandatory Entertainment Hour. Even the 
  appearance of unorthodox thought or behavior is harshly 
  punished. In game terms, reduce the Access rating of the 
  Troubleshooter by 1–5 points (GM’s discretion) for any 
  offense that could be interpreted as political orthodoxy—as 
  opposed to, say, callous disregard for the safety of ordinary 
  citizens, which is pretty much expected.
  � Celebrity also breeds resentment. Troubleshooters in this 
  position invariably attract copious attention from secret 
  societies, rival service ﬁ rms, disgruntled subordinates, 
  ambitious underlings, and traitorous INFRARED citizens 
  envious of the wealth and privilege. Civic Pride Detail can 
  devolve into a string of repeated assassinations attempts, 
  frame-ups and blackmail threats. What a change from 
  standard Troubleshooter missions!
  —Joshua Moretto
  BOUNCY BUBBLE BEVERAGE STIMULATES PARTS OTHER CHEMICALS CAN’T REACH.
  GREEN
  TROUBLESHOOTERS / SECRET SOCIETIES
  � GREEN secret society life
  The halfway point in the clearance ladder is notoriously a place 
  for breaks and blockages. Below GREEN Clearance are the 
  peons and workforce of Alpha Complex; above GREEN are the 
  intelligentsia and the overseers. GREENs supposedly facilitate 
  communications across the vast social gulf.
  In practice, GREENs try to jam the system as much as 
  possible. GREEN is rife with society involvement, as the various 
  conspiracies try to conceal their activities and manipulate 
  ‘ofﬁ cial’ Alpha Complex activity. There are R&D labs who have 
  had their ofﬁ cial research orders blocked at GREEN levels and 
  replaced with Pro Tech madness; Armed Forces detachments 
  unknowingly acting under Sierra Club control for months at a 
  time; entire IntSec precincts who shrug and accept that, once 
  again, their orders are to ‘kill all muties! Kill the genetic deviants! 
  Ignore everything else!’; and so on.
  Secret societies run afoul of each other more often than they 
  run into IntSec, mainly because all the societies have to share 
  the same Gray Subnets, IR Markets, abandoned sectors, secret 
  passages and after-hours meeting rooms. The embarrassment 
  of a Corpore Metal or Psion cell bumping into a Frankenstein 
  Destroyer or Anti-Mutant cell when both societies decide to 
  meet in the same dank-but-camera-free cellar is second only 
  to the bloodshed. GREENs are the tool of choice for attacking 
  other societies.
  Internal Security’s infamous GREEN goons are heavily 
  inﬁ ltrated by the secret societies. Anything that lets a conspiracy 
  cover up its own efforts and attack those of others (thanks to the 
  GREEN goon mandate of ‘keep the plebs in line’) is useful, hence 
  the widespread inﬁ ltration of the goons, IntSec, Internal Affairs, 
  CPU’s Treason Index Tallying Services and anyone else who 
  can screw over those bastards in the other societies.
  This ﬁ ghting at GREEN is responsible for much bloody, bitter 
  rivalry between societies. Some secret societies—Humanists and 
  Romantics, for example, or Mystics and Sierra Club—should be 
  natural allies. That they are not is testament to how effectively 
  their GREEN agents have succeeded in sabotaging the efforts 
  of all other societies, ally and foe alike.
  � Societies with a notable GREEN presence
  Corpore Metal: Corpore Metal’s real strength is its vast army of 
  bot sympathizers. Using their bot contacts, ﬂ eshy members of 
  the society can quickly rise to GREEN status. This has nothing 
  much to do with their avowed goal of transcending humanity, 
  but it does pay better.
  Free Enterprise: Though most societies use their GREENs 
  to sabotage others, Free Enterprise just wants cash. Its goons 
  are legbreakers and mob enforcers. In this respect FreEnt goons 
  are indistinguishable from legitimate IntSec GREEN goons, a 
  confusion the society exploits.
  Sierra Club: It is perhaps inevitable the Sierras try to go 
  GREEN; this clearance is ideal for poking around the corners 
  of Alpha Complex, looking for exits. The jumpsuits even blend 
  in with Outdoors terrain.
  —Gareth Hanrahan
  
  62
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  � Food, drink and consumables
  � Dining out: 20 – 75cr per person
  Impress your peers and reward your inferiors by taking them out to an 
  evening at a private dining center. Includes free beverage reﬁ lls!
  � Drugs and recreation
  � Ofﬁ ce Putt-Putt set: 90cr
  Another wonder of the Old Reckoning, this was one of the most popular 
  games among the Ancients. Use the narrow stick to tap the tiny ball down 
  your hallway into a cup that lights up! (Caddybot costs extra.)
  � Intersector holiday: 500cr or more
  Now that you can leave your home sector on your own recognizance, 
  take some time off and see the sights. There are many glorious 
  wonders to behold around Alpha Complex—the Grand Canyonmall, the 
  Holosseum, Mount Recyclemore to name a few. Or just kick back in a 
  low-activity resort sector for a few days and try to relax. Remember to 
  report your movements to Internal Security.
  � Hygiene and maintenance
  � Dissolvaway: 20cr per application
  This solvent can do anything from remove ink from paper to taking paint 
  off a wall. Do not use on skin or eyes!
  � Hallvac: 250cr
  This roll-around vacuum device allows you to get your work area clean 
  in a snap! Comes with seven different nozzle attachments and a built-in 
  trap for genetic material.
  � Clothing and accessories
  � Microrecorder: 75cr
  Never let the evidence get away from you again! This button-sized 
  microphone can hold and play back up to 48 hours of audio. Also good 
  for practicing those motivational talks and spontaneous-sounding 
  confessions in advance.
  � Bot repellent: 300cr
  Tired of having pesky bots coming up all the time, trying to sell you 
  things you don’t need or take you places you don’t want to go? Don’t 
  go all Frankenstein on them; just turn on this handy device and they’ll 
  decide to bother someone else. (Manufacturer does not guarantee 
  effectiveness against security or military bots.)
  � Survival and technology
  � Candles: 10cr each
  These miraculous, totally portable devices produce light without 
  electricity! (Matches are sold separately. Do not use near ﬁ re-detection 
  equipment.)
  � Portable shredder/printer: 120cr
  You may actually ﬁ nd a legitimate need to destroy hardcopy from time 
  to time. Do it with style! Shredded documents are stored in non-volatile 
  memory, protected by your chosen keycode, and can be reprinted in the 
  future. (Keycode must be registered with Internal Security.)
  � Services
  � Decrease surveillance: 100cr per –1 Tension 
  (ILLEGAL! Censure if caught)
  With a little more seniority and a few more credits, you can make sure 
  nobody’s paying close attention to what happens in a speciﬁ c room for 
  an hour or so. Not that you’re up to anything, of course.
  � Dispatch Troubleshooter team: 
  5,000–25,000cr
  That’s right, Citizen, you’re now authorized to detach Troubleshooter 
  teams from the general pool and send them on simple missions, 
  provided you’ve ﬁ led the appropriate justiﬁ cation paperwork. Obviously, 
  the more funds you apply to their mission, the more likely they are to 
  succeed, right?
  � Hire assassin: 10,000 – 40,000cr 
  (ILLEGAL! Termination if caught)
  When lying and bootlicking and stirring speeches and bribery can’t 
  dispose of someone in your way, there is always a fallback solution. 
  Bribes for faster service strictly optional.
  GREEN goodies
  It’s time to start thinking about image! Every day now, you are being judged—by the 
  upper ranks, by your peers, by the hungry hordes you have left behind. Don’t show 
  them your fear! Hide it behind a screen of impressive purchases!
  
  63
  Emergency Disaster Response Teams
  Alpha Complex is the best of all possible 
  complexes, yet from time to time things do 
  go wrong. There are errors, inconveniences, 
  traumas—perhaps the occasional catastrophe. 
  Disturbances can often be handled quietly, if 
  not by a service ﬁ rm, then by a team of friendly, 
  well-intentioned Troubleshooters. But some 
  calamities are simply too dire, too daunting…
  too public to be left to Troubleshooters. When 
  some environmental/mechanical/metaphysical 
  mishap threatens life and property on a 
  sufficiently massive scale, count on an 
  Emergency Disaster Response Team to be 
  ﬁ rst on the scene, and last to leave. In fact, 
  EDRTs have been known to show up moments 
  before any disaster actually occurs. They are 
  that good.
  As it does with its Troubleshooters, 
  The Computer sends EDRTs to deal with 
  troublesome situations. For this reason, some 
  citizens—mostly jealous types—regard EDRT 
  members (called ‘Specialists’) as nothing more 
  than puffed up, over-hyped Troubleshooters. 
  However, comparing Troubleshooters to 
  EDRTs would be like comparing a vigorously 
  shaken can of Bouncy Bubble Beverage to a 
  tacnuke. Both are explosive, but the ﬁ rst ruins 
  your jumpsuit whereas the second renders 
  your sector uninhabitable for the next 20,000 
  years.
  Consider the differences: Troubleshooters 
  spend most days working dull service ﬁ rm 
  jobs; Specialists spend their days and nights 
  at Rapid Deployment Stations, waiting for the 
  call to action. Troubleshooters receive minimal 
  training; Specialists train one month of every 
  year at the EDR Academy in SLS Sector. Low-
  clearance Troubleshooters toil away in relative 
  obscurity; Specialists perform their heroic acts 
  for a complex-wide vidnews audience.
  The Computer, being paranoid, demands 
  discretion from its servants. So why would 
  The Computer allow EDRT operations to be 
  conducted in such a public manner?
  It wasn’t always that way. In the early 
  days of Alpha Complex, even the biggest 
  disasters would be subject to a total media 
  blackout. Vidnets treated citizens to Teela-O 
  rerun marathons, even as their living quarters 
  were being ﬂ ooded by molten lava. At the 
  time, INDIGO Clearance vidshow executives 
  justiﬁ ed this policy, arguing ‘there’s no reason 
  to start a panic’.
  However, it turned out that lava ﬂ ooding 
  had a way of creating panic all by itself. In the 
  absence of carefully crafted HPD&MC spin, 
  citizens succumbed to their most treasonous 
  impulses in emergency situations: rioting, 
  looting, generally running amok. Clearly, a 
  policy change was in order.
  The modern policy, authored by vidnews 
  pioneer Maxine-V-BLX-2 (known among 
  Specialists as ‘Iron Maxi’), follows this guiding 
  principle: ‘If an embarrassing story gets so big 
  we can’t make citizens ignore it, our only choice 
  is to embrace that story and control it entirely.’ 
  Emergency Disaster Response Teams are that 
  means of control.
  In a disaster, regularly scheduled 
  programming is preempted by live coverage of 
  EDRT Specialists in action. Camera crews go 
  out with the team; trusted broadcast directors 
  even gain access to IntSec surveillance video 
  feeds to ensure enthralled viewers across 
  Alpha Complex don’t miss a second of the 
  excitement.
  Only GREEN Clearance (or higher) citizens 
  are recruited for EDRTs because citizens like 
  the idea of ‘Friend Computer sending its best 
  and brightest into the fray’ for their protection. 
  It makes citizens feel safe. Citizens who feel 
  safe don’t riot or loot or run amok—at least not 
  as much as they might have.
  For this reason, Emergency Disaster 
  Response Team Specialists are far more 
  than highfalutin Troubleshooters. They 
  are respected, admired symbols of The 
  Computer’s benevolence toward all citizens. 
  As such, they are held to a high standard. 
  Unrealistically high.
  Joining the team
  When The Computer selects a GREEN 
  Clearance citizen to join an Emergency 
  Disaster Response Team, trusted citizens 
  have already recommended him as worthy, 
  courageous and dynamic—a staunch defender 
  of Complex-and-Computer. Either that, or he 
  bribed his way into the job. Or used blackmail 
  or extortion. Or perhaps a former supervisor 
  found him less-than-useful, and got him 
  reassigned to an EDRT because it involved 
  less paperwork than demoting him. Really, 
  anyone can end up on an EDRT.
  One might think EDRT Specialists at least 
  possess high ratings in some specialization. 
  Wrong. EDRTs are hyped as a highly trained 
  team, but that’s all it is: hype. Aside from their 
  elevated security clearance, EDRT recruits are 
  average citizens with limited skills and training. 
  And as for the highly touted EDR Academy, 
  little actual training goes on there; it’s more 
  a media relations seminar than a boot camp. 
  Despite the title and the hype, becoming a 
  ‘Specialist’ doesn’t necessarily involve being 
  good at anything.
  � Hooks
  Here’s how it really works: When a citizen 
  joins an EDRT, INDIGO Clearance Talent 
  Coordinators work with him to make sure 
  he provides a compelling and marketable 
  onscreen presence. Speciﬁ cally, the Talent 
  Coordinators ask the Specialist to embody a 
  unique character concept, or ‘Hook’ (as it’s 
  known in the vid biz). A Hook should include 
  these elements:
  � Team role: Being a ‘jack-of-all-
  trades’ might be laudable among 
  Troubleshooters, but in the EDRTs, 
  every Specialist must contribute 
  something unique, high-concept and 
  photogenic: expertise, special abilities, 
  registered mutant powers. By selecting 
  a team role, a character commits to 
  contributing to the team in exactly one 
  speciﬁ c and individual way. Supervisors 
  (not to mention viewing audiences) will 
  hold him to that commitment.
  Examples: martial arts master, 
  strategist, demolitions expert.
  Smart players select a team role that 
  complements their skill and attribute 
  ratings. Bold players disregard ratings 
  entirely and create a role woefully 
  incompatible with their character’s 
  abilities; reward this foolhardy boldness 
  with Perversity points.
  � Signature equipment: An EDRT 
  Specialist can request high-clearance 
  gear appropriate for his team role. 
  In some cases, a member can even 
  commission R&D to design custom 
  equipment… within reason.
  Examples: Flamethrower, plasma-
  nunchaku, smoovvox hypnotic voice 
  lozenges, big bag o’ bombs.
  � Nickname, uniform design, 
  backstory: Generally The Computer 
  GREEN
  EDR TEAMS
  by Greg Ingber
  YOU CAN DO MORE WITH A SMILE AND A CONE RIFLE THAN JUST A SMILE.
  
  64
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  values conformity; smart citizens do 
  nothing to stand out or draw attention. 
  However, EDRT Specialists aren’t 
  merely servants of The Computer, 
  they are also valuable entertainment 
  properties. Clever nicknames and 
  heavily customized uniforms increase 
  proﬁ ts on EDRT marketing tie-ins; they 
  are now mandatory for every team 
  member.
  Like sports teams, the entire team 
  must also take a punchy name that 
  ﬁ ts easily on a vidscreen, like ‘Ron-R’s 
  Roughnecks’ or ‘Force Six’ or ‘The 
  GREEN Machine’. Let the players 
  choose their name, subject to vidshow 
  executive approval.
  Ensure each new EDRT Specialist deﬁ nes 
  a robust, full-bodied onscreen concept. 
  If a player’s imagination is lacking, feel 
  free to have the aforementioned INDIGO 
  Talent Coordinators step in with mandatory 
  constructive criticism.
  You need not strive for a ‘well-balanced’ 
  team. Whereas balanced teams are conducive 
  to teamwork and harmony, unbalanced teams 
  force Specialists to step on each other’s toes, 
  muscle in on each other’s territory. Such 
  discord makes for better television—and more 
  paranoia.
  When disaster strikes
  In principle, when something goes wrong in 
  Alpha Complex—not, as you can imagine, 
  particularly rare—a VIOLET Clearance Sector 
  Administrator (or someone with equivalent 
  rank and authority) officially declares an 
  Emergency Disaster (ED). In practice, Sector 
  Administrators are reluctant to admit they 
  have lost control in their own territory. Many 
  Sector Administrators would gladly watch their 
  sector burn to the ground (well, further into the 
  ground) before calling in the EDRTs. The rest 
  declare an ED only after all other measures 
  have failed.
  But! Remember that ‘equivalent rank and 
  authority’? Anyone of VIOLET Clearance can 
  also declare an Emergency Disaster, provided 
  he can track down the proper forms. VIOLET 
  Clearance Vidshow Studio Chiefs have a big 
  stack of those forms sitting on their desks. 
  Unlike Sector Administrators, Studio Chiefs 
  have absolutely no qualms about ﬁ elding an 
  EDRT—along with camera crews, broadcast 
  coordinators and embedded cheerlead—er, 
  journalists.
  Furthermore, the Chiefs don’t wait for an 
  especially potent disaster. The great thing 
  about Emergency Disaster Response Teams, 
  from a Chief’s viewpoint, is their endearing 
  knack for turning small problems into big ones. 
  After all, EDRTs are only trained to deal with 
  large problems; when they encounter small 
  ones, their instinct is to escalate it until their 
  training applies.
  � ‘EDR Team Go!’
  So the call goes out to the nearest Rapid 
  Deployment Station, to the most important 
  members of the EDRT: the cambots. These 
  small, inobtrusive cameras levitate into action, 
  each zooming to the current GPS-determined 
  locations of its assigned Specialist. On camera, 
  the team’s leader calls out the team’s assigned 
  battle cry or motto, usually a focus-group tested 
  slogan like ‘For The Computer!’ or ‘Disaster 
  Waits!’ (Let the players pick their team’s cry.) 
  Then all team members race to the EDRT 
  Flybot, where they find all their personal 
  equipment packed and ready.
  As the Flybot speeds away toward the ED, 
  an onboard (and on-camera) INDIGO brieﬁ ng 
  ofﬁ cer briefs the Specialists in a cinematically 
  urgent manner. Players accustomed to 
  Troubleshooter missions probably expect 
  to get bogged down in forms, shakedowns, 
  sudden painful deaths and other miscellaneous 
  impediments before they even reach the 
  brieﬁ ng room. For EDRT missions, the network 
  hustles the PCs through pre-mission elements 
  at top speed to get them into the action ASAP. 
  (Don’t worry, GM. There will be plenty of time 
  for sudden painful death after the Flybot drops 
  off the team at the site.)
  The only business to take care of before the 
  dropoff involves service service assignments—
  or rather, their EDRT equivalents—and secret 
  society missions.
  � Public services and 
  product placements
  EDRTs face situations where delays and 
  diversions inevitably mean bodycounts. 
  When lives (and valuable Computer property) 
  are on the line, this is not the time for testing 
  experimental devices, conducting algae chip 
  taste tests or screwing around with broken 
  vending machines. Plus, these activities make 
  for extremely dull TV. For these reasons, The 
  
  65
  Computer determined it impractical to assign 
  EDRTs traditional service services.
  Instead, each Specialist’s service group 
  assigns him a characteristic and enlightening 
  Public Service Theme. These are bureaucracy-
  approved messages the EMDTs must somehow 
  ‘work into the mission’. For instance: Team 
  member Charlie-G has just been exposed to 
  a lethal strain of ﬂ esh-eating bacteria. As he 
  dies a horrible, ugly death, HPD&MC Specialist 
  Angela-G turns to the nearest camera and 
  reminds citizens to ‘Wash your hands! Because 
  clean hands are flesh-eating-bacteria-free 
  hands!’ 
  Especially well-known Specialists may 
  instead get a Product Placement Position. 
  When PLC ﬁ rms prepare to release certain 
  types of new products, they like to drum up 
  consumer interest by getting the products in 
  the hands of high-proﬁ le tastemakers. The 
  products that work best are inexpensive items 
  marke ted toward lower clearances: snack 
  foods, cheap gadgets, personal hygiene 
  products. Specialists assigned Product 
  Placement Positions must ﬁ nd creative ways 
  of using the assigned product during the 
  mission.
  � Secret society missions
  Secret society obligations work in much the 
  same way. With so many cameras focused 
  on the Specialists, it’s probably impossible for 
  them to commit any overtly treasonous acts in 
  support of their secret society. However, they 
  often can (and are certainly expected to) ﬁ nd 
  ways to slip a little pro-society propaganda into 
  the broadcast.
  For example: Specialist Lionel-G has just 
  gotten both of his legs gnawed off by a swarm 
  of mutant gophers. As he lies screaming on the 
  ﬂ oor, Bruce-G comforts his wounded comrade: 
  ‘Don’t worry Lionel-G! Now that you’ve cast 
  away those ﬂ abby meat-limbs, we can get 
  you set up with a shiny new pair of bionic 
  legs! Once you get those marvels installed, 
  you’ll wish you had been attacked by mutant 
  rodents years ago.’ Can you guess Bruce-G’s 
  secret society?
  Needless to say, Specialists must keep their 
  propaganda subtle. If a team member becomes 
  too overt, have Internal Security create suitably 
  nasty consequences.
  Keep in mind, handing EDRT secret society 
  obligations this way does not necessarily 
  preclude other, more traditional secret society 
  missions. If your players are clever enough to 
  commit treason in full view of Alpha Complex 
  and not get caught—more power (and 
  Perversity) to them!
  P-Scores
  The work of GREEN EDRT Specialists is 
  evaluated almost exclusively by INFRARED 
  citizens.
  INFRAREDs! No Specialist likes to discuss 
  this embarrassing little secret, and they don’t 
  look kindly upon those who do. Nonetheless, 
  this is the reality of EDRT life.
  Officially, INDIGO Clearance Talent 
  Coordinators evaluate Specialists, in 
  consultation with their show producers and 
  sometimes Studio Chiefs. The Chiefs ultimately 
  make personnel decisions regarding individual 
  Specialists: hirings, ﬁ rings… ﬁ ring squads.
  How do they decide who stays and who 
  goes? Well, any Coordinator will say each 
  member is carefully evaluated based on 
  demonstrated competence in areas such 
  as problem-solving, teamwork and personal 
  hygiene. Inject the same Coordinator with 
  telescopalamine truth serum, and he’ll say it 
  all comes down to P-Scores.
  P-Scores are a cutting-edge ratings system 
  HPD&MC developed to track viewer response 
  to individual Specialists during live EDRT 
  missions. Because the EDRT program boosts 
  citizen morale during difﬁ cult times, Talent 
  Coordinators must keep team rosters ﬁ lled 
  with personalities who keep viewers glued to 
  the vid. Through the P-Scores system, Talent 
  Coordinators determine which team members 
  are getting the job done, and which ones are 
  ripe for—cancellation.
  The P-Score system is actually quite simple: 
  Periodically, during each EDRT broadcast, 
  an automated surveying subroutine randomly 
  selects 50,000 vidscreens from a master 
  list of every active screen tuned into the 
  Emergency Disaster coverage. Once it has 
  selected a monitor, the subroutine brieﬂ y takes 
  control of the screen image, superimposing 
  these words over the image: ‘TOUCH THE 
  SCREEN—CHOOSE YOUR FAVORITE!’. 
  When citizens see these words ﬂ ash across the 
  screen, they simply touch the vidmonitor where 
  they see the Specialist they like the best. When 
  touched, the vidmonitors sense the pressure 
  and send signals back to the central P-Scores 
  server, which tabulates the responses.
  It is your job, GM, to simulate the P-Score 
  respondents. Because the vast majority 
  of citizens in Alpha Complex are humble 
  INFRAREDs, consider the actions of each 
  team member from an INFRARED perspective. 
  Think to yourself:
  ‘If I were a marginally literate, heavily 
  medicated assembly-line grunt, what would I 
  enjoy most on the vidscreen?
  � ‘Would I like calm, rational Specialists 
  who solve problems methodically and 
  harmoniously?
  � ‘Or would I prefer flashy, smack-
  talking, grandstanding badasses with 
  an irrepressible, in-your-face attitude?
  GREEN
  P-SCORES
  � SquawkTronix 900 
  Comm System
  Worn by every EDRT Specialist, 
  the SquawkTronix 900 combines a 
  multi-way communications headset 
  with a visor that serves as both eye 
  protection and as a Heads-Up Display. 
  The headset includes a standard 
  microphone/earphone conﬁ guration, as 
  well as a side-mounted video camera, 
  known as a headcam.
  The SquawkTronix 900 serves many 
  functions in an EDRT mission:
  � Specialists use the headset to 
  stay in constant communication 
  in noisy environments or when 
  the team splits up. The headsets 
  also let EDRT supervisors 
  communicate with the whole 
  Team, or privately with individual 
  Specialists.
  � The SquawkTronix 900 transmits 
  audiovisual data to a local relay 
  that forwards to the EDRT 
  Broadcast Center. The headset 
  microphones (‘mics’) let audiences 
  hear every word of witty team 
  dialogue, while the headcams 
  let directors cut to exciting ‘POV 
  shots’. When cambots experience 
  technical difficulties (usually a 
  violent demise), these POV shots 
  become crucial.
  � Specialists can conﬁ gure their visor 
  display to monitor video feeds, 
  including their own teammates’ 
  headcams. Most Specialists use 
  the display to directly monitor the 
  EDRT broadcast, so they can 
  see exactly what their audience 
  is seeing—and (usually more 
  important) what they’re not 
  seeing.
  I’M SORRY, THAT FILE FORMAT IS NO LONGER SUPPORTED.
  
  66
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  � ‘Would I like to see team members 
  conducting orderly evacuations?
  � ‘Or would I perhaps instead prefer 
  perilous, careening autocar chases and 
  blowing stuff up?’
  Predicting popular psychology is tricky, 
  we know. After all, the network TV schedule 
  in your town no doubt demonstrates the 
  inherent elevated taste of a mass audience. 
  For guidance, we offer modest suggestions in 
  the table nearby.
   Once you’ve tuned your psyche to the whims 
  of the EDRT’s largely INFRARED viewing 
  audience, tally each Specialist’s P-Score. P-
  Scores always range from 0 (least preferred) 
  to 10 (most preferred). Each PC begins a 
  mission with a baseline P-Score of 5.0. Every 
  time someone does something the viewing 
  audience likes, increase that character’s 
  P-Score. Every time a team member does 
  something the viewing audience doesn’t like, 
  decrease his P-Score. 
  Simple enough, right? Hold on—there’s a 
  twist.
  As many of us already learned in high school, 
  popularity is a zero-sum game. For you to win, 
  others must lose. P-Scores are no different. 
  Every time you increase one character’s P-
  Score, decrease one (or more) of the other 
  characters’ P-Scores by an equal amount. 
  For example: Lucy-G just made an amusing 
  remark about Phil-G’s tacky custom uniform. 
  You enjoyed Lucy-G’s comment and decide 
  the viewing audience did as well—so you 
  increase Lucy-G’s P-Score from 5.0 to 5.5. 
  Having done so, you are now obligated to 
  decrease someone else’s P-Score by the same 
  amount. Because Phil-G was on the receiving 
  end of Lucy-G’s witty remark, you decide to 
  decrease Phil-G’s P-Score from 5.0 to 4.5. 
  Alternately, you could have decreased two 
  other Specialists’ P-Scores by .25. Remember, 
  this rule also works in reverse: if you elect to 
  decrease a character’s P-Score, you should 
  also increase another character’s P-Score 
  equally.
  Just about everything an EDR team member 
  does during a mission should be aimed at 
  boosting his P-Score, thereby lowering the 
  scores of his teammates. To keep players 
  focused, INDIGO Talent Coordinators 
  provide live P-Score updates as the mission 
  progresses. Failure to maintain a high P-Score 
  brings disastrous consequences, discussed 
  below.
  � Ending the mission
  An Emergency Disaster Response Team 
  mission can end in one of two ways.
  1. It ends if everyone on the team runs out 
  of clones. EDRT missions have high 
  mortality rates, and TTL (Total Team 
  Loss) isn’t unheard of.
  2. Short of TTL, the only other way a mission 
  can can end is if a VIOLET Clearance 
  citizen (preferably the one who originally 
  declared the Emergency Disaster) ﬁ lls 
  out a ‘Cessation of Emergency Services’ 
  form and ﬁ les it with CPU at any data 
  terminal. This form ofﬁ cially reclassiﬁ es 
  the Emergency Disaster as a mere Non-
  Emergency Disaster.
  This may happen for many reasons. If and 
  when a team successfully quells whatever 
  calamity they were sent to quell, a VIOLET 
  Sector Administrator happily ﬁ lls out a CoES 
  form to end the emergency. More frequently, 
  if a team makes an emergency situation ten 
  times worse through reckless showboating, a 
  Sector Administrator may (most unhappily) ﬁ ll 
  out a CoES form just to get the EDRTs the hell 
  out of his sector.
  If the original ED was declared by a VIOLET 
  Studio Chief, he might elect to end the mission 
  if the action is getting stale, there is a popular 
  regular program he doesn’t want to preempt, 
  he has to take an important PDC call, etc.
  Once the mission ends, the EDRT Flybot 
  returns immediately, if necessary, to extract 
  all surviving Specialists.
  Post-mission Conference
  Time for a debrieﬁ ng—but not a stuffy, non-
  visual ‘let’s all sit in a room and accuse each 
  other of treason’ debrieﬁ ng. That’s ﬁ ne for 
  Troubleshooters, but unworthy of the illustrious 
  EDRTs. No, EDRTs debrief in a Post-mission 
  Conference.
  Like every other aspect of the EDRT 
  experience, these conferences are broadcast 
  live throughout Alpha Complex. Immediately 
  following the mission, all Specialists report to a 
  hastily assembled press area near the disaster 
  site. Camera crews, IntSec agents, embedded 
  HPD & Mind Control spinmeisters and a few 
  hundred random passersby gather, serving as 
  an impromptu ‘studio audience’.
  For these Post-mission Conferences, 
  producers like to pull out all the stops. 
  Depending on the outcome of the mission—not 
  to mention the whims of the producers—a 
  Post-mission Conference might include:
  � A giant monitor showing mission 
  highlights, as reporters ask the involved 
  Specialist to ‘talk them through’ a crucial 
  moment in the mission.
  � A panel of celebrity commentators 
  critiquing the performance of 
  Specialists.
  � Questions from the audience and/or 
  ‘call-in’ questions from viewers.
  � An ‘out-takes’ reel of embarrassing 
  mistakes Specialists made.
  � Emotional displays of gratitude from 
  citizens the team rescued.
  � Sanitized ‘good-natured joshing’ from 
  citizens the team nearly incinerated.
  � ‘Final Thoughts’ from The Computer to 
  conclude the conference.
  � P-Positive actions:
  1. Conspicuous acts of daring and self 
  sacriﬁ ce
  2. Witty dialogue
  3. Explosions, gunplay, mayhem
  4. Talking smack to high clearance 
  citizens
  5. Touching emotional moments, 
  stirring oratory
  6. Bending the rules
  7. Dying in a dramatic, spectacular 
  fashion
  � P-Negative actions
  1. Conspicuous acts of cowardice
  2. Arguing, whining
  3. Drudgery, bumbling
  4. Disrespecting lower clearance 
  citizens
  5. Talking in circles, inactivity, dead 
  air
  6. Rigid adherence to rules and 
  regulations
  7. Just dying
  Note: the standard increment for 
  P-Score adjustments is .25. However, 
  adjustments of .50, .75 or even 
  1.0 may be appropriate in extreme 
  circumstances.
  
  67
  GREEN
  POST-MISSION CONFERENCES
  Some EDRT members don’t take these 
  Post-mission Conferences seriously. Thinking 
  the conferences are somehow beneath them, 
  these Specialists respond to questions with 
  glib, sarcastic answers. They do so at their 
  peril. Though many citizens watch the live 
  coverage of the missions, there are even more 
  citizens who only get to see clips from the 
  PMC repeated on later news shows. These 
  conferences represent each Specialist’s last, 
  best chance to make a good impression with 
  viewers, thereby increasing his P-Score. 
  Specialists who performed dismally during 
  the mission can still save themselves if they 
  perform well in post-mission interviews. Just 
  as easily, a star EDRT performer could sink 
  himself if his teammates manage to turn the 
  crowd against him.
  During the conference, make liberal 
  adjustments to P-Scores based on how the 
  PCs represent themselves. Note: Though 
  EDRTs get live P-Score updates during their 
  mission, they get no updates during the Post-
  mission Conference. Players should not know 
  where they stand until the ﬁ nal scene.
  Aftermath
  When the conference ends, Specialists return 
  to the swank Rapid Deployment Stations they 
  call home. They may take a shower, watch 
  some vid, eat a light supper. Mostly they wait. 
  Nervously. Because tomorrow, they may well 
  be out of a job—or worse.
  High-clearance HPD&MC executives 
  evaluate Specialists after every mission. It 
  never takes long—a day, maybe two—just long 
  enough for ‘interested parties’ to interfere.
  The shift: P-Scores have a funny way of 
  shifting after the mission has ended. Obviously, 
  this shouldn’t be. Once the mission is over, the 
  P-Scores surveying subroutine terminates, and 
  the ﬁ nal score for each Specialist should be 
  frozen. Nevertheless, P-Scores always seem 
  to—drift a bit after evaluations.
  As it turns out, when HPD&MC commissioned 
  CPU to implement the P-Scores tabulation 
  routine, they left a few security holes. These 
  holes let powerful interests tweak and prod and 
  manhandle P-Scores to suit their agendas.
  If you recall, at the beginning of the mission, 
  each team member was assigned a Public 
  Service Theme (and possibly a Product 
  Placement Position). During the mission, did 
  each character adequately pitch these to the 
  viewing audience? If so, the service groups 
  that assigned the Specialist these duties may 
  have appreciatively boosted his P-Score. But 
  if a character neglected his duty, the service 
  group may deﬂ ate his P-Score as a punitive 
  measure. They may also frown on collateral 
  damage to property and inﬂ uential people.
  Secret societies also manipulate P-Scores—
  Computer Phreaks and Pro Tech have 
  particularly good access, and the Illuminati, 
  of course, maintain total control—so consider 
  how well players served their societies, and 
  adjust P-Scores accordingly.
  Note: For these post-mission adjustments 
  you may increase one character’s P-Score 
  without decreasing that of another; the zero-
  sum rule does not apply.
  Once you’ve arbitrarily adjusted the P-
  Scores, you can ﬁ nally determine the fate of 
  each character:
  SCRUBOTS HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED TO YOUR LOCATION.
  � In an EDRT mission, conjure fear and ignorance by promoting 
  a hyper-competitive relationship among the players. Keep 
  reminding each player that every time someone else succeeds, 
  he fails. Frequent P-Score updates drive this point home, but 
  also keep the players aware of who is the center of attention 
  at any given moment. If one character starts doing something 
  interesting, describe how the cambots stop covering the rest of 
  the team and cluster around him. From time to time, you might 
  narrate the action from the perspective of someone watching it 
  on the vid.
  � Each character should be desperately trying to upstage and 
  outdo the others, stealing focus and making himself look 
  good at others’ expense. Make sure everyone plays fair, of 
  course—but ‘fair’ is a relative term in PARANOIA. In this case, if 
  a player intends to hog the spotlight, he must actually do things 
  worthy of the spotlight. The Computer, and therefore the show 
  producers, won’t tolerate a Specialist who simply interrupts a lot, 
  or interferes with others’ actions in blatant, uncreative ways.
  � Players should constantly face dilemmas between practical/
  effective actions versus actions that are entertaining/role-
  appropriate. Nothing torments show producers worse than 
  mundane problems with an easy and obvious solution.
  For instance: During a rescue mission, the team comes across 
  a high-clearance citizen trapped beneath a pile of rubble. Luckily, 
  there are some shovels lying nearby. No problem, right? The 
  EDRTs can spend ten minutes digging the citizen out of the 
  rubble and call it a mission.
  GM tips/style notes
  Except—they can’t. The viewing audience has absolutely no 
  interest in watching a bunch of guys digging. Unless someone 
  can come up with a festive digging song (or some other way of 
  livening up the activity) then such a mundane course of action 
  would devastate the team’s P-Scores. Furthermore, Specialists 
  are expected to engage in actions appropriate to their team 
  role. Unless someone happens to be an ‘excavations expert’, 
  audiences don’t want to see shovels.
  Every Specialist should try to solve every problem he 
  encounters by using his own special skills, no matter what. If 
  Chester-B has the team role of ‘ﬂ amethrower guy’, then by gosh 
  he’ll solve every problem with a torrent of searing ﬂ ame. If he 
  doesn’t, decrease Chester-B’s P-Score accordingly.
  � No matter how bad things get—no matter how deviously a team-
  mate just screwed him—each Specialist must keep up a brave 
  face and maintain a positive attitude. A character is not permitted 
  to complain, accuse or take matters into his own hands, due to 
  the omnipresent cameras.
  You can create dramatic moments by suddenly, unexpectedly 
  cutting off the media. Perhaps the ED coverage is preempted 
  by a teaser for an upcoming Teela-O miniseries. Maybe a 
  building collapse momentarily isolates the Specialists from the 
  cambots. These moments should arise at critical points in the 
  mission, giving Specialists rare opportunities to get down with 
  some hardcore, shameless treason. Needless to say, coverage 
  resumes as unexpectedly as it ended; let the phrase ‘worst 
  possible moment’ serve as your guide.
  
  68
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  � For Specialists who escaped the mission 
  with a P-Score of 6.0 or higher, there’s 
  nothing but good news! They stay on the 
  team, plus they might receive lucrative 
  endorsement deals, recording contracts 
  and lecture tours. Also, The Computer 
  will graciously order Tech Services to 
  replace any clones that character lost 
  during the mission, free of charge.
  � For a character who couldn’t quite 
  capture the public’s imagination (P-
  Score of 5.9 or lower), the news isn’t 
  so good. If his P-Score was extremely 
  low, an INDIGO Talent Coordinator 
  kicks him off the team. This is known as 
  ‘cancellation’. Getting cancelled out of 
  the EDRTs is not only embarrassing; it 
  can be deadly. Specialists get away with 
  a lot of questionable behavior and cause 
  considerable collateral damage. So 
  long as they remain in the EDRTs, they 
  are protected from petty inquisitions. 
  However, the moment they get kicked 
  off the team, that protection disappears. 
  Guess what happens next.
  � If a character’s P-Scores were not great, 
  but not terrible either, then he may be 
  an ideal candidate for ‘retooling’—a fate 
  some consider worse than cancellation. 
  When HPD&MC determines the 
  Specialist has a weak, unmarketable 
  Hook, INDIGO Talent Coordinators 
  ‘retool’ that character by developing a 
  new Hook. Talent Coordinators love 
  to retool Specialists. They love to get 
  creative. Their creativity tends to make 
  Specialists want to shoot themselves.
  Talent Coordinator Cheryl-I: So! Paul-G, 
  let’s talk about your Hook.
  Specialist Paul-G: Uh… what about it?
  Cheryl-I: The whole ‘Military Sniper’ thing… 
  it’s just not working out.
  Paul-G: Not working out? But I have the 
  best shot/kill ratio in the complex! 
  Last week, I took out all five 
  mutie conspirators in less than 20 
  seconds.
  Cheryl-I: Yeah, I saw that. Just as things 
  were getting interesting, you have 
  to go and start sniping all the bad 
  guys. 20 seconds later, the mission 
  is over. Talk about a big letdown! 
  Like I said, the sniper thing isn’t 
  working out. So what else have 
  you got?
  Paul-G: Look, I’m a sniper. I really don’t do 
  other—
  Cheryl-I: You know what’s hot right now? 
  Bot wrangling.
  Paul-G: Bot… wrangling?
  Cheryl-I: Yeah, we supply you with three 
  sassy yet lovable jackobots, and 
  you try to get them to do stuff for 
  the team. Sometimes they do what 
  you ask, sometimes they totally 
  misunderstand your commands—
  with hilarious consequences! Trust 
  me, Paul-G, this hook is going to 
  take you to the next level.
  Paul-G: I’m not sure I’m comfortable 
  with—
  Cheryl-I: You can go ahead and turn in your 
  riﬂ e. We’ll have those bots ready for 
  you real soon.
  � Internal Security GREEN goons
  In your players’ minds, who else besides the EDR teams might be associated with GREEN Clearance? Hmm, let’s think—might it be the 
  despised GREEN goons of IntSec?
  Alpha Complex society deﬁ nes an unspoken but vast gap between the lower clearances (INFRARED through YELLOW) and the higher 
  clearances (GREEN and above). Below the line, you are at best middle-management; above the line, you have reached the upper classes, 
  with a noticeable jump in status and perks. Only a small fraction of the population ever ascends to GREEN, let alone to the higher reaches of 
  service to The Computer. GREEN citizens have diligently courted The Computer’s trust, through a combination of bootlicking, backstabbing, 
  blackmail, extortion, secret society connections and, in some cases, even ability.
  This helps explain why, in a setting where expressing dissatisfaction over a broken vending machine can get you brainscrubbed, Alpha 
  Complex citizens secretly, stealthily loathe the GREEN goons. They are Internal Security’s muscle, its shock troops. IntSec scours the 
  INFRARED barracks for the most thuggish thugs, the unusually brutish brutes—stoopbrows who obey authority mindlessly even by Alpha 
  Complex standards, and that’s saying a lot. IntSec ﬁ nds these unwashed proletariat nobodies and persuades The Computer to promote 
  them, willy-nilly, to Clearance GREEN.
  The goons had no ambition, no schemes, and certainly no talent beyond brutality. Now, thanks to their unexpected jump, they can push 
  around nearly everybody who, until days or weeks ago, pushed them around. They loooove it. They love it so much, they do it all the time, 
  even without orders. That’s ﬁ ne with IntSec leadership: The goons provide a target for the lower clearances’ hatred, anger and resentment 
  that keeps the focus away from IntSec’s upper clearances and its covert activities.
  GREEN goons are not only stupid but corrupt. Still acclimating to these dizzying heights—still locked in the INFRARED mentality of a 
  credit here, a credit there—the goons can be bought, even cheaply. But they never stay bought. Their IntSec superiors don’t object to minor 
  corruption, as long as the superiors get a cut of the take.
  You’re thinking, ‘They sound like orcs.’ Nope—these are orcs you’re not allowed to kill. Complain to The Computer? You certainly can, 
  and it will then summarily execute the individual goon you ﬁ ngered. And then the ‘green wall’ of all other IntSec goons will close in around 
  you, making what’s left of your brief life very hard. So people don’t complain. The goons rake in the cash. Some may die—they are muscle, 
  after all—but there’s always more in the IR barracks.
  The goons originated in the observation that real-world totalitarian secret police are unfailingly corrupt. To longtime PARANOIA fans the 
  idea of a corrupt Internal Security may seem wrong—it may lend an unwelcome human element, an air of seamy commerce, that detracts 
  from the implacable Orwellian facelessness of The Computer’s enforcers. But the point of the game is fear and ignorance. All the faceless 
  senior ofﬁ cers can keep on doing their Orwellian thing, but in addition, the players must worry about these totally unqualiﬁ ed gorillas who 
  can order them around and will sell them out for a nickel. They, too, are scary—maybe even scarier in their way than the senior ofﬁ cers.
  —Allen Varney
  
  69
  GREEN
  EDRT ALL-STARS
  YOUR PLAYERS SHOULD ALREADY BE PAINTING TARGETS ON THESE GUYS’ CHESTS.
  EDRT All-Stars!
  For most Specialists, it takes all the cunning they can muster just to keep their P-Scores high enough to stay on the team. And, what was 
  the other thing—think, think—ah! survive. However, some team members aren’t content with this—they want to be the most popular, the 
  most beloved Specialists in the complex. They want to be EDRT All-Stars.
  Once a year, HPD&MC reviews P-Scores data from every active Specialist in the EDRTs. Speciﬁ cally, they seek individuals who have 
  not only achieved, but sustained high P-Scores over numerous missions. These lucky Specialists are transferred to a special, ultra-high 
  proﬁ le Emergency Disaster All-Star Team.
  HPD&MC considers its All-Stars too valuable an entertainment commodity to expose to real missions (and their real dangers). Instead, 
  All-Stars resolve Simulated Emergency Disasters: fake disasters, fabricated on a sound stage; totally harmless, yet broadcast complexwide 
  as if real. All-Stars get all the perks of being team members, with none of the risk. This is perhaps the sweetest gig in Alpha Complex, and for 
  those team members who possess that rare combination of ambition, ruthlessness, charisma and more ruthlessness, it could be theirs.
  But to join the ranks of the All-Stars, an ambitious Specialist must surpass the achievements of the existing All-Star Team:
  � Johnny Flame, Fire Suppression Specialist
  Career P-Score average: 7.3
  Fires are common Emergency Disasters in Alpha Complex, especially in sectors with industrial or chemical 
  production facilities. Johnny extinguishes danger with his signature tank of KoolFoam—a chemical compound three 
  times colder than liquid nitrogen and a hell of a lot stickier. Flames never stand a chance against Johnny—nor 
  does exposed Commie Mutant Traitor ﬂ esh!
  � Jon E. Flame, Flame Sanitation Specialist
  Career P-Score average: 7.6
  If an area has been contaminated by anything of a biological nature, the best way to neutralize it is by exposing it 
  to searing heat. Jon E.  is trained to burn ﬁ rst, burn second, have a light lunch, burn a bit more—then ask questions 
  later. Jon E. carries a heavily customized XTREEM-BURN Heavy Flamethrower to perform his incendiary duties. 
  Interesting fact: Jon E. Flame and Johnny Flame both served on the same EDRT for three years. The confusion 
  was highly entertaining, elevating both Johnny and Jon E.’s P-Scores to All-Star levels.
  � Dr. Weldo, Welding Specialist / Team Doctor
  Career P-Score average: 6.8
  He’s a doctor... and a welder! He carries a laser scalpel and a plasma-torch! Some EDR teams are wastefully 
  assigned one medical ofﬁ cer and one welding/cutting technician. How inefﬁ cient! Dr. Weldo proves one citizen 
  can perform both functions admirably—so long as he keeps his equipment straight.
  � Miss Calm, Stress Reduction Specialist
  Career P-Score average: 7.2
  Emergency Disasters can be awfully stressful. This All-Star has assisted thousands by providing on the spot anger 
  management counseling to disaster victims, singing soothing songs and passing out helpful pamphlets such as ‘So 
  You’ve Been Covered In Acid’ and ‘Uh... Why am I Glowing?’ On those rare occasions when such activities fail to 
  placate a crowd, Miss Calm (calmly) releases a few QuieTime Sedative Gas Canisters—a proven stress reliever!
  � Captain Carl, Team Commander
  Career P-Score average: 8.1
  The Commanding Ofﬁ cer of an EDR team is trained to remain cool and collected, even under the most chaotic 
  of circumstances. Observers have found Captain Carl to be so calm—so eerily serene—some have wondered if 
  he is heavily medicated for every mission. In fact, he is! After years of experimentation, Carl has discovered an 
  optimal combination of mood enhancers, stimulants and a few other drugs that haven’t even been classiﬁ ed yet. 
  These carefully regulated medications keep Carl sharp on long missions, and let him make split-second decisions 
  decisively, without a second (or even ﬁ rst) thought.
  
  Typical BLUE jobs
  Junior execs on the rise, top 
  executive secretaries, valets to 
  VIOLET citizens; Armed Forces 
  captains and majors; CPU managing 
  directors; HPD managers of exclusive 
  nightclubs; IntSec officers (see 
  this section), interrogators; PLC 
  greenhouse supervisors; in Power 
  Services, the guy whose fault it is 
  when the local power plant melts 
  down; R&D project researchers; 
  Tech Services Aquatic Recreation 
  Area Hydro-Specialists (they clean 
  high-clearance swimming pools), bot 
  brain programmers, clone eugenics 
  specialists, medical doctors, 
  MemoMax psychosurgeons. If your 
  Alpha Complex has astronauts, 
  they’re probably BLUE.
  It’s all in the timing
  By the time they’ve reached BLUE Security 
  Clearance, your players are starting to 
  get some insight into how Alpha Complex 
  actually works. The more savvy of them may 
  have realized that, as they now head their 
  own service ﬁ rm, there’s actually a limited 
  number of them. What’s more, with an entire 
  service ﬁ rm listening to their orders, they 
  might even start to feel they have some sort 
  of control over their destiny.
  Well, we can’t have that, can we?
  Fortunately, INDIGO citizens are no 
  slouches either. They know perfectly well 
  the only way a BLUE citizen is going to get 
  promoted is if an INDIGO citizen falls. Unfortunately, the 
  INDIGOs can’t just wipe out the lot of them, so they do the 
  next best thing—keep them all too busy to breathe, never 
  mind think. The rate of burnout among BLUE citizens is 
  quick enough that they don’t worry about pressure from 
  the GREENs. There’s always a spot available. No, for BLUE 
  citizens, the main concern is not treachery so much as time 
  management.
  You want to know what a BLUE citizen looks like? In the 
  movie Brazil there’s a character called Mr. Warren. He walks 
  fast, he talks fast, he thinks fast. He’s got a mob of people 
  around him and he’s making decisions as quickly as he can 
  spit out the ‘yes’ or the ‘no’. Mr. Warren would survive nicely 
  as a BLUE citizen—for a while.
  As for your players, keep them off balance and busy. 
  Appoint them to so many committees they can’t possibly 
  make it to all the meetings, let alone understand the 
  agendas. Fire questions and forms at them. Have them see 
  a fellow BLUE citizen gibbering in the corner as he snaps 
  under the pressure. Show another one hauled away by an 
  IntSec patrol for a decision that cost his ﬁ rm millions. Above 
  all, let them know they could be next.
  Fear and ignorance, see? If we decrease the ignorance, we 
  must increase the fear.
  BLUE contents 
  Dossier: Carter-B-DTC-1 
  (Eric Minton) 
  71
  Outdoors Duty (Joshua Moretto) 72
  BLUE secret society life 
  (Gareth Hanrahan) 
  72
  BLUE bonuses 
  (Dan Curtis Johnson) 
  73
  IntSec BLUE troopers  
  [based on HIL Sector Blues (1987) by 
  Ken Rolston] 
  74
  HIL Sector table of contents 
  75
  Salary: 40,000 cr/month
  Food: Nothing but real food all the 
  time! At last!
  Housing: Opulent suite in safe 
  and prestigious subsector.
  Transport: Private autocar.
  Staff: Full bot staff and bot 
  programmer. Seldom if ever do you 
  encounter Infrareds.
  Authority: May promote to 
  Clearance ORANGE or lower. May 
  demote from GREEN or lower. May 
  assign Merit awards and penalties. 
  You manage an entire service ﬁ rm.
  Perks: You go to the front of 
  any line; invitations to vidshow 
  award ceremonies; exclusive club 
  memberships; underlings grovel 
  routinely.
  Demographic: Perhaps half a 
  percent of the population; maybe a 
  few hundred in a standard sector.
  EXTREME BLUE
  
  Proﬁ leNet :: Internal Security :: Department of Offender and At-Risk Tracking
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   CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN 
  Dossier: Carter-B-DTC-1
  ACTIVITIES & AFFILIATIONS
  Activities: Overtime work: service ﬁ rm, Internal Security; chess; C-Bay; daycycle 
  trading; research into Old Reckoning archival data; smoking (Cancer-Lite 
  cigarettes)
  Afﬁ liations: DTC Sector High-Clearance Chess Club, unnamed BLUE Clearance informa-
  tion trading network
  TREASONS & COMMENDATIONS
  Treasons: Falsely accusing an equal-clearance citizen of treason (1), possession of 
  unauthorized equipment (1), possession of unauthorized information (2), 
  possession of unauthorized Old Reckoning material (3), disobeying an order 
  given by a superior (1) (see records)
  Commendations: Improved service ﬁ rm efﬁ ciency (4), effective management (2), re-
  vealing treason to Internal Security (4), terminating a traitor of lower security 
  clearance (2), superior hygiene (5) (see records) (see also: Commendations-
  >Johan-B-BEK-1 [archived])
  GENETIC PROFILE & CREDIT RATING
  Genetic Proﬁ le: Class 7T/88N/3C; anomalies at 0078a, 0454t, 3071c. [32% chance of 
  one or more psionic mutations]
  Credit Rating: 
  16-BLUE (88,302cr)
  ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
  Hoarder of Old Reckoning artifacts. Abnormally low incidence of reported insubordination. 
  Abnormally low variance from zero point on Happiness Curve. Believed to be siphoning credits 
  from service ﬁ rm into gray accounts. Known member of Romantics. Known to have mid-level 
  contacts with Computer Phreaks, Free Enterprise and Pro Tech. Protected by superiors in 
  Internal Security and CPU. (see records)
  ANALYSIS
  Primary drive: desire for increased authority and personal power. Secondary drives: sup-
  port Alpha Complex; fetish for Old Reckoning material; superiority complex. Intelligent and 
  disciplined. Obtains Old Reckoning material through contacts in Romantics and Free Enterprise. 
  TreasEst indicates a 65% chance of blackmail or extortion of one or more higher-clearance 
  citizens. PsychEst places his Loyalty Index within the uppermost decile.
  RECOMMENDATIONS & COMMENTS
  Threat level: low. Remain in place; recommend promotion to IntSecCom.
  Comments: 
  [[ This one’s too good. Must be planning something—rein him in. –Anni-B ]]
  [[ PsychEst says if he has psionic mutations, 70% chance he’s in Psion. Investigate? –Chang-B ]]
  [[ VIOLET connections. Drop it. –Deirdre-I ]]
  Reference #: 312-57-823-467
  [Last Update: 214.04.15 11:50]
  Name: Carter-B-DTC-1 (changed from 
  Johan-B-BEK-1 under Internal Security 
  mandate 204.08.13.303/F ‘Protective 
  Cover Identities for Internal Security 
  Field Agents’.)
  Decantationdate: 170.09.01
  Service group: Internal Security / CPU
  Service ﬁ rm: Complex Oversight CPU
  Occupation: Internal Security Agent / 
  Chief Financial Ofﬁ cer
  Last known location: PTS Sector, Sub-
  sector 03R, Room 45-a
  Height: 185.4 cm
  Weight: 92 kg
  BLUE Clearance
  
  72
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  ■ Troubleshooters: Outdoors Duty
  Outdoors Duty is Civic Pride Detail’s dark twin. The Computer 
  banishes BLUE Troubleshooters with tarnished reputations to 
  this not-quite-a-death sentence position.
  As much as The Computer wants Alpha Complex safely 
  contained, it recognizes the need to patrol its borders. BLUE 
  Troubleshooters have proven themselves sufﬁ ciently loyal that 
  they might not become irreversibly contaminated while outside. 
  Still, this duty is considered punishment. The survival rate is low, 
  even for Troubleshooters.
  Outdoors Duty is doled out in two-month hitches. Barring 
  special orders, Troubleshooters check in every two weeks to 
  ﬁ le reports, pick up fresh food supplies, and receive their next 
  segment’s store of medication. The rest of their time is spent 
  patrolling the wilds around Alpha Complex, looking for evidence 
  of Commie mutant incursion and gathering scientiﬁ c samples 
  for R&D.
  ■ Bennies
  � Outdoors Duty is probably the only place Troubleshooters 
  can be reasonably certain that they are not being observed. 
  Except by each other, of course. And the natives.
  � Obviously, Outdoors Duty presents an unparalleled 
  opportunity for Romantics or Sierra Clubbers to garner 
  status with their secret societies.
  � Old Reckoning artifacts found on Outdoors Duty could be 
  worth major credits on the IR Market, assuming they can 
  be smuggled successfully back into Alpha Complex.
  ■ Slaps
  � Outdoors Duty is just shy of a kiss of death. The Outdoors 
  is a dangerous place for Troubleshooters with only the 
  vaguest conception of ‘Nature’. Weather, wild animals, 
  natural disasters, poisonous plants, and a complete lack 
  of survival skills are bad enough, but there may also be 
  strange tribes, radioactive wasteland, monsters, giant 
  radioactive mutant cockroaches or… gasp!... runaways 
  from Alpha Complex!
  � Troubleshooters used to being provided all their needs are 
  in for rough times if they lose or use up their food supplies. 
  Many a squad on Outdoors Duty has returned shy a few 
  members but looking curiously well-fed…
  � The two-week segment schedule is intended to ensure 
  Troubleshooters on Outdoors Duty don’t have time to 
  experience the effects of withdrawal from their hormone 
  suppressants. Lost pills or a failure to make a check-in 
  can throw this off. The effect of sudden spikes in hormone 
  levels on a bunch of stranded Troubleshooters is left to 
  your imagination.
  —Joshua Moretto
  ■ BLUE secret society life
  At BLUE Clearance, citizens are trusted to manipulate the 
  hearts and minds of the lower-clearance populace. BLUEs decide 
  the approved truth and beliefs of Alpha Complex; they draft the 
  rah-rah news videos and subliminal messages; they organize the 
  Civic Pride Details and Happiness Patrols and Loyalty Sing-Ins 
  and Sectorwide Joy Days.
  But much as the secret societies would love to leverage 
  their BLUE members to introduce their own propaganda and 
  subliminal messages, there is a problem:
  Everything at BLUE Clearance is done by committee.
  Because it’s incredibly rare for a citizen to make it this high 
  in Alpha Complex without being involved in at least one secret 
  society or conspiracy, everyone on any committee has his own 
  agenda. This makes exploitation of BLUE Clearance… difﬁ cult. 
  Certainly, say, a Romantics member will try to indoctrinate the 
  citizens with a love for wonders of the vanished past, but he’ll 
  need to get his message past the Communist trying to slip in 
  references to the oppression of the masses and the FCCC-P 
  bishop trying to ensure the propaganda is doctrinally correct.
  It was said in Old Reckoning times, ‘A camel is a horse 
  designed by committee.’ BLUE Clearance conspirators end up 
  producing deranged, schizophrenic camels that espouse a dozen 
  conﬂ icting forms of treason.
  The other problem with BLUE treason is, most BLUES in a 
  sector know each other, by reputation if not by sight. BLUEs 
  attract media attention, too. There’s no comfortingly anonymous 
  mass of citizens to conceal you, and the people you meet 
  remember your name. (The relative lack of drugs in the food 
  at this clearance means citizens are more alert, not to mention 
  crankier and meaner from withdrawal pangs.) Even a minor slip 
  can mean betrayal and exposure. Therefore the plots of BLUEs 
  are byzantine, which makes the committee meetings even more 
  confusing.
  ■ Societies with a presence at BLUE
  Humanists: The Humanists, unfortunately, take to the endless 
  politics and committee meetings of BLUE Clearance like scrubots 
  to vatslime. They positively delight in endless meetings over bits 
  of bureaucratic trivia whose importance can’t be discerned with 
  an electron microscope. This is because they run their society 
  the same way: ‘After the revolution, there will be three days of 
  celebration! And the banners will be this shade of gold!’—‘I prefer 
  this shade.’—‘Okay, let’s form a task force to come up with an 
  action plan for a working group to establish a committee to pick 
  the banner color.’—‘Truly the revolution is at hand!’
  Pro Tech: Pro Tech’s members quite like the perks of higher 
  clearance: better access to technology and laboratories, better 
  access to R&D records—and there’s some atavistic impulse 
  in the mad-scientist brain that says, ‘You need to get a castle, 
  preferably on a storm-wracked mountain, in which you defy the 
  laws of God and nature’.
  Psion: Psion has a huge advantage over the other societies, 
  in that its mutant members are (a) more capable and dangerous 
  than the average citizen, and (b) completely disposable. The 
  society tries to position its members at ORANGE and BLUE, the 
  two clearances where mutant issues arise most often.
  —Gareth Hanrahan
  
  73
  MMM…DONUTS. AND ONLY 10cr EACH!
  BLUE
  THINGS TO BUY
  ■ Food, drink and consumables
  ■ Brewskie: 5cr per glass, 20 – 50cr per liter 
  bottle
  One taste and you’ll wonder why they don’t sell this fermented beverage 
  to the masses—it would make a fortune! Two or three bottles later, 
  you’ll realize why they don’t dare sell it to the masses. Also comes in 
  ‘Vino’ ﬂ avor.
  ■ Pizzaroni: 10cr + 1cr per topping
  Delivered straight to your door in half an hour or less, or you can shoot 
  the driver! More than 20 toppings to choose from; mix and match all 
  you want!
  ■ Drugs and recreation
  ■ Sporting event box seats: 50 – 250cr
  The lower clearances only ever see edited highlights, but you’ll be 
  there to witness every thrilling moment! Bot-ﬁ ghts, laser-rally, crawler 
  racing: you name it!
  ■ Magnetic word set: 10cr 
  (ILLEGAL! Probation if caught)
  A collection of random words on magnetic backing that can be placed 
  any way you choose. Make up wacky sentences, beautiful poetry or even 
  deep philosophical statements about the purpose of existence.
  ■ Hygiene and maintenance
  ■ Drug tester: 80cr
  How many times have you found yourself over- (or worse, under-) 
  medicated? Check your levels before operating heavy machinery. Find 
  out if your personal chemistry needs re-adjustment. For 50cr more, add 
  on the Dispensator, a handy digital drug-cocktail advisor and quick-
  reference tool. Never wonder what you’re taking again!
  ■ Clothing and accessories
  ■ Digitally generated abstract art: 20 – 500cr 
  per print
  These pleasing collages of shape and (approved) color are guaranteed 
  to liven up the walls of your apartment. Each one is personally generated 
  and numbered by one of The Computer’s own fully-licensed art-
  production subsystems!
  ■ Massageboots: 300cr
  These stylish boots don’t just protect your feet in comfort—they actively 
  massage and relax every part of your feet, whether you’re walking, 
  driving or just sitting behind your desk!
  ■ Autocar customization: 250 – 5,000cr per 
  modiﬁ cation
  Express your unique identity (within approved limts) by tricking your 
  ride out with extra ﬁ ns, turbine overdrive, plush interior, hydraulic lifts 
  and other one-of-a-kind mods just like the ones everyone has on those 
  vidshows! 
  ■ Survival and technology
  ■ Portable weather monitor: 750cr
  ‘Weather’ is a bafﬂ ing and random-seeming event when you’re new to 
  the Outdoors, but this handy baby is able to track and predict what the 
  weather will be a whole day in advance, with 75% accuracy! (Device 
  not functioning inside Alpha Complex is normal.)
  ■ Services
  ■ Advertising: 1000cr for off time – 10,000cr for 
  prime time
  Got a new product or service coming out? Is your service ﬁ rm’s survival 
  dependent on ﬁ nding a new market? Get your brand out there in the best 
  way there is: advertising during communal vid time! (Cost is for HPD&MC 
  air time only and does not include budget for creation of content.)
  ■ One item deletion: 6,000 – 30,000cr 
  (ILLEGAL! Brainscrub if caught)
  Computer Phreaks aren’t just good at ﬁ nding data; the really sharp ones 
  can remove all trace of some single thing from all existing records. Clear 
  up that past indiscretion… or bury the only evidence that would have 
  exonerated your enemy!
  BLUE bonuses
  The perpetual scramble is really starting to pay off, now. But you know what? You 
  need to start taking some time for yourself. Spend a moment to enjoy the ﬁ ner things. 
  After all, if you don’t look out for your needs, who will?
  
  74
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Internal Security BLUE Troopers
  This is the sector…
  HIL Sector. It’s a sweaty, smelly, lived-in sector, surrounded by vast kilometers of 
  interlocking, multi-level, criss-crossing metallic cylinders that constitute the transit 
  tube travel network. The central dome of the sector forms a huge open metropolis 
  that includes the high-rise ULTRAVIOLET luxury apartments, the many ofﬁ ce buildings 
  of PLC, INFRARED City (cubicles with a view) and One IntSec Plaza, a complex of tall, 
  jutting buildings that houses Internal Security HQ and all its support departments. 
  It is also rumored the sector’s Computer CompNode is located here. But rumors are 
  treason. Immediate termination is recommended for anyone spreading or listening 
  to rumors.
  HIL Sector. It is a complex within the 
  complex—Alpha Complex. Citizens 
  of all clearances and service groups 
  walk its corridors, tunnels and 
  passageways. It is a hub of activity; 
  all the major transbot express 
  monotubes pass through its massive 
  terminal enroute to other sectors.
  Anything can happen in the corridors 
  of HIL Sector. And it is up to the élite 
  IntSec BLUE Troopers to handle any 
  situation, to lay down their lives in 
  defense of the Alpha Complex way. 
  To serve and protect. Such is the 
  exciting life of the HIL Sector 
  BLUEs.
  by Ken Rolston (updated by Beth Fischi; from HIL Sector Blues, West End Games, 1987)
  Jim Holloway’s cover for the original 1987 supplement. (Thanks to Christopher 
  Kintz for the scan, which was in no way derived from a bootleg .PDF circulating 
  on some illicit Commie ﬁ lesharing network.)
  
  75
  The awesome power 
  of BLUE Troopers
  The BLUE Troopers of HIL Sector are among 
  the ﬁ nest IntSec Troopers in Alpha Complex. 
  They are an élite squad; all Troopers are 
  of BLUE or higher security clearance. The 
  Computer, conﬁ dent of their loyalty, liberally 
  showers information and resources upon its 
  chosen angels of peace.
  Each BLUE Trooper is issued special X-
  317B  full combat armor when he receives 
  his ﬁ rst ﬁ eld assignment. The armor itself is 
  a mixture of Kevlar, reﬂ ec, shock-absorbent 
  padding and Gamemaster ﬁ at. The nylon armor 
  sheathing is smartly tailored in midnight blue 
  (hence the name), with handsome trim colors 
  indicating higher security clearances. The 
  helmet has a reﬂ ective, laminated-ﬂ exiglass 
  faceplate. Between the bulky armor, the 
  ponderous and deliberate pace it demands 
  and the mirrored surface of the faceplate, an 
  IntSec BLUE Trooper may easily be mistaken 
  for some sinister anthropomorphic robot.
  IntSec troop teams are required to work in 
  a spirit of cooperation alien to Troubleshooter 
  teams. IntSec has provided a number of 
  devices, quick tech fixes, that enforce 
  cooperation.
  For instance, the troop team leader is 
  supplied with a nifty Firepower Control 
  device that attaches snugly to his belt. This 
  rectangular object is ﬂ at on three sides and has 
  a series of toggle switches on its face. These 
  toggles are the on/off switches for the unit’s 
  weapons. The appointed group leader can 
  selectively control who can ﬁ re at any given 
  time just by ﬂ icking a switch. When the other 
  players ﬁ nd out about this, boy are they gonna 
  be awed and amazed.
  IntSec has also been rumored to install 
  explosive devices in unit personnel equipment 
  that a leader can remotely trigger when a 
  subordinate’s response to an order is less 
  than satisfactory. A shrewd leader would rig 
  such remote controls as ‘deadman switches’ 
  to discourage ambitious Troopers from blowing 
  away their immediate superiors.
  And The Computer cheerfully incinerates 
  any Trooper (and his MemoMax backups) if he 
  attempts a ﬁ eld termination without substantial 
  evidence of treason and a Computer-authorized 
  termination voucher. These little reﬁ nements 
  deter PCs from indiscriminately blasting 
  witnesses, evidence, innocent bystanders, 
  perpetrators, petbots and each other.
  Now, we know you may be thinking: 
  ‘C’mon. This is PARANOIA! Where’s the 
  player character inﬁ ghting, backstabbing and 
  treachery? Where’s all the fun stuff?’
  Don’t worry. You can’t keep a good traitor 
  down. There’s still plenty of infighting, 
  backstabbing and treachery among the IntSec 
  élite. It’s just more subtle.
  ASSUME THE POSITION, SCUZBOT.
  BLUE
  HIL SECTOR BLUES
  ■ HIL Sector Blues 
  contents
  Series materials 
  75
  Awesome power of BLUE Troopers 75
  Players’ introduction 
  77
  1: IntSecServe 
  78
  2: Running gags 
  84
  Where are those guys? 
  84
  The mission bulletin 
  84
  Communication Central 
  85
  The transit tubes 
  87
  Something Happens table 
  92
  Nothing Happens table 
  92
  3: The mission itself 
  93
  The mission storyline 
  93
  Aftermath 
  95
  Storyline hooks 
  96
  4. ‘First Blood, and Then Some’ 
  98
  5. ‘IntSec Agents at the Earth’s 
   
  Core’ 
  101
  IntSec response codes 
  104
  Pun name substitutions 
  104
  NPC / Bot roster 
  105
  [Note: Like all 1980s PARANOIA 
  products, the original HIL Sector Blues 
  was laden with obnoxious pun names. 
  We have replaced these with sensible 
  names, for the beneﬁ t of GMs running 
  non-Zap styles. But to satisfy purists, 
  we present the deleted puns in a table 
  on page 104.]
  ■ Series materials
  � Extensive treatments of 12 IntSec service departments, where the PCs can go any time for 
  help and useful information, details on the swift, safe and reliable transit tube transportation 
  system. (In HIL Sector, getting there is half the fun—and most of the suspense.)
  � Running gags to be dropped into a mission whenever you need to juice up a session.
  � A system for organizing and designing your own BLUE Troopers series.
  � Lots of plot hooks you can turn into mini-missions or a full-length series.
  � R&D devices selected for their utility in police work and guaranteed to amuse, edify and 
  explode.
  ■ Two mini-missions
  � ‘First Blood, and Then Some’—A one-man army at large in HIL Sector.
  � ‘IntSec Agents at the Earth’s Core’—BLUE Troopers are dispatched to subdue an R&D 
  genius who has taken over HIL Sector Power Central and is threatening to test a device 
  supposedly capable of producing a hole straight though to the center of the planet. Sounds 
  like a good time to us.
  ■ How to use these goodies
  What should you do with all this crunchy goodness? Read it, of course. Read everything.
  In particular, study the ‘Running gags’ section carefully. This describes the heart of a PARANOIA 
  session and how to start thinking in terms of series, not just missions.
  Next, design a mission of your own, or choose one of the included mini-missions. Study the 
  mission beforehand and understand the intricacies of the plot. Then prepare a list of your favorite 
  running gags to complicate the mission. Then you’re ready to run!
  
  76
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  ■ The BLUE Trooper style
  Bet you always wondered how Internal 
  Security—the BLUE Troopers—complete 
  missions efﬁ ciently and cooperatively while 
  most Troubleshooters routinely expend most 
  of their ammo allowance on other mission 
  personnel. Gamers experienced with other 
  roleplaying systems often observe that 
  PARANOIA enthusiasts have so much fun 
  betraying each other and ﬁ ring experimental 
  weapons into crowds, they don’t get far into 
  a mission.
  Well, this is true. In other games the players 
  are always moving purposefully toward some 
  common goal of unquestioned signiﬁ cance. 
  In deep dungeons there is usually some Big 
  Quest everyone is real solemn about, and in 
  deep space there is usually some Matter of 
  Galactic Import.
  In PARANOIA there is always The Mission, 
  but nobody ever seems to take it terribly 
  seriously. And for good reason. Often the 
  missions are suicide festivals, programming 
  errors or conspiracies so Byzantine as to 
  defy analysis without abstract mathematical 
  formulas. In short, completely unreasonable. 
  Of course the PCs aren’t supposed to achieve 
  the mission objective. (They aren’t even 
  supposed to understand the mission, much 
  less achieve the objective.)
  And why don’t PCs cooperate more to 
  achieve mission objectives? Because shooting 
  Commies is worth commendations, and 
  all PCs are obviously Commies after they 
  have been sufﬁ ciently killed to prevent them 
  from refuting such an accusation. Generally, 
  plugging a comrade is easier and more fun 
  than cooperating to complete a mission.
  What might induce PCs to concentrate on 
  mission goals rather than on blowing each 
  other up?
  Er…running out of ammunition?
  Well, yes, but we had something more 
  general in mind—something along the lines 
  of leadership, discipline, training and truly 
  awesome personal armor. Also the leader’s 
  belt switch. And the hidden head-bombs.
  Just as important, in IntSec, instead of 
  blowing a rival or pigeon away, you have to 
  develop a solid case against him. You have 
  to have evidence. You have to produce 
  witnesses. You have to suggest plausible 
  motives.
  Of course, it’s easy to fabricate evidence. 
  And easy to suborn witnesses. And easy to 
  dream up plausible motives. Observe…
  Computer: And what charges do you have to 
  bring against Citizen Suck-R?
  Earnest Accuser: First, Suck-R failed to 
  support his fellow Troopers with 
  laser ﬁ re when the vile Commie ﬁ lth 
  ambushed us.
  (Note: The Earnest Accuser had 
  washed Suck-R’s laser with Gum-All 
  during a routine weapons check.)
  Earnest Accuser: Second, Suck-R was 
  seen exchanging secret hand signs 
  with one of the Commie prisoners.
  Earnest Witness: Yes, indeed, I saw him do 
  that. You bet. Several times. With 
  both hands. Sure. Honest.
  (Note: Earnest Witness is now the 
  proud owner of a lovely modiﬁ ed 
  gas mask which protects against 
  all IntSec SleepGas mixtures. [Or 
  so Earnest Accuser asserted when 
  he made a present of it to Earnest 
  Witness as a token of gratitude for 
  services rendered.])
  Earnest Accuser: And, ﬁ nally, I produce 
  the incontestible proof of Suck-R’s 
  perﬁ dy. Look! (Produces a piece 
  of red cloth from a pocket with a 
  ﬂ ourish.) A Commie banner! And 
  all along this recreant citizen has 
  had this tucked into his utility pouch 
  where I found it on a routine hygiene 
  check! Oh, detestable traitor, hang 
  your head in shame!
  (The red banner was hastily 
  fabricated from an old jumpsuit.)
  Computer: Certainly looks conclusive to me. 
  How would you like that termination 
  voucher made out?
  ■ NPC BLUE Troopers as 
  GM coercive resources
  When used as NPCs, BLUE Troopers are a 
  superb GM crowd-control device.
  You know how the players are always 
  threatening to go off in some direction you don’t 
  want them to go. And how they sometimes get 
  too cocky and blow up so many things, they 
  have to be taught a lesson about damaging 
  Computer property.
  Think of the BLUE Troopers and the Vulture 
  Squadrons as The Computer’s mighty mailed 
  ﬁ sts—crack units, superbly trained, superbly 
  outﬁ tted and superbly led, with high morale 
  and unquestioning loyalty to The Computer. 
  Troopers generally handle internal affairs, 
  whereas the Vultures primarily deal with (or at 
  least prepare constantly to deal with) enemies 
  Outdoors.
  Whenever your typical RED, ORANGE 
  or YELLOW PCs are getting too frisky in a 
  standard PARANOIA mission (like YELLOW 
  Clearance Black Box Blues, in PARANOIA
  Flashbacks), dispatch an IntSec BLUE Trooper 
  squad to strike the fear of The Computer into 
  them. (The BLUE IntSec Troopers in Send in 
  the Clones, also reprinted in Flashbacks, are 
  a good example of this use.)
  The low-clearance bozos are wriggling 
  about, trying to stab each other and blow up 
  the universe. The BLUE Troopers appear, 
  preferably mysteriously, as though they 
  stepped out of a secret passage or a hidden 
  wall panel. They loom over the PCs in their 
  sleek, massive armor, training their weapons 
  silently on the squabbling rabble, an ominous 
  wall of concerted power, the will of The 
  Computer made manifest. A disembodied 
  voice echoes from a helmet speaker:
  ■ BLUE Trooper tech
  ■ X-317B  full combat armor (Kevlar/reﬂ ec/shock padding)
  The helmet offers the latest in communications equipment, permitting Troopers to call 
  for information, for help and for lunch from wherever they may be. The helmet com units 
  patch directly into HIL Sector Communications Central, the heart of IntSec. The helmet 
  chin-guard contains an identiﬁ cation grid which, when pressed, scans a Trooper’s tongue 
  tattoo; any tongue not matching the helmet’s ID ﬁ le gets baked. (This system is completely 
  reliable. Honest.)
  ■ Firepower Control switch
  All BLUE Troopers are issued specially modiﬁ ed weapons with safety mechanisms. These 
  prevent the weapons from ﬁ ring ‘accidentally’—that is, unless the unit leader uses his 
  remote Firepower Control device to deactivate the safety mechanisms. These mechanisms 
  can be disabled by any competent weapons expert, but possession of a weapon with 
  disabled safety mechanisms is treason punishable by termination.
  
  77
  ‘Excuse me. If you traitors are ﬁ nished 
  with your little dispute, I believe 
  someone in Internal Security would 
  like to have a few words with you. Step 
  lively now, and behave yourselves. We 
  wouldn’t want an unfortunate accident 
  to delay your prompt delivery, now 
  would we?’
  Players’ introduction
  To begin your HIL Sector Blues series of 
  missions, read the following to your players:
  So you’re tired of getting aced by 
  trigger-happy paranoids in the brieﬁ ng 
  room?
  [Pause for player choral response. 
  Encourage them to be frank. Gesture 
  innocently with open hands and 
  sympathetic smiles.]
  …tired of having your experimental 
  weapon disassemble itself dramatically 
  in your hands, taking your clone and 
  half a residence block with it?
  [Choral response.]
  …tired of being killed by public 
  transit vehicles with autopilot software 
  designed by Stephen King?
  [Choral response.]
  …tired of being sent to terminate 
  Bruce Lee, Conan, Godzilla, Vulture 
  Squadrons and the Mongol hordes 
  without proper documentation?
  [Choral response.]
  Well. Gosh. What a whining, 
  ungrateful bunch of citizens you are! 
  The peripherals of The Computer 
  tremble with disappointment. The 
  fingers of the Vulture Squadron 
  Execution Drill Team quiver in 
  anticipation, stroking the triggers of 
  their hand drills.
  [Pause. Grin winningly at the players you 
  have inveigled into betraying themselves. 
  Pantomime a Vulture Drill Team member 
  revving his hand tool, making suitable 
  ‘VVVVVZZZZZZ, VVVVVZZZZZZ’ 
  noises.]
  Yes, The Computer is disappointed 
  you have chosen to voice your 
  dissatisfaction so publicly. But The 
  Computer is your friend, and what are 
  friends for?
  You are being accorded a signal 
  honor. You are all being promoted to 
  Security Clearance BLUE, effective 
  immediately. You are all being 
  reassigned to the élite Internal Security 
  force of HIL Sector. There you will 
  go among the citizens and ensure 
  their safety and security. You will 
  root out treason and destroy it. You 
  will make Alpha Complex Safe for 
  Technocracy.
  You will also be standing close to a 
  lot of things when they explode.
  Just remember—‘To Serve and To 
  Protect’—that’s the motto of the HIL 
  Sector Blues…
  Now it’s time to choose a group leader. 
  Choose the group leader yourself, if you 
  like, under the pretext of being the group’s 
  commanding officer, having reviewed the 
  Troopers’ files and having selected the 
  Trooper with the most leadership potential. In 
  a practical sense, this is a smart move if you 
  want a cooperative group; you can pick the 
  leader most likely to successfully emphasize 
  the importance of cooperative play, mutual 
  support and mission achievement.
  Alternatively, you can invoke the revered 
  principles of Democracy and Darwinism by 
  allowing the players to elect their own leader 
  for each mission, then learn through natural 
  selection which player is the most effective 
  leader. This method may be time-consuming, 
  but more instructive in the long run.
  Okay. Your players have been welcomed to 
  HIL Sector, they’ve boned up on their duties at 
  HIL Sector Internal Security and they created 
  nice new characters. Are they ever ready for 
  a mission. Once you’ve studied the ‘Running 
  gags’ and ‘Mission itself’ chapters, you’ll be 
  prepared to present a couple of little routine 
  police jobs for them—just to introduce them to 
  IntSec work—or you can launch them right into 
  one of the stupendous mini-missions.
  This is going to be so much fun…!
  ■ No lower-clearance PCs!
  By the way, observing our oft-repeated dictum 
  that higher-clearance characters have no 
  better chance than lower-clearance characters 
  to survive or complete a mission, you may 
  ﬁ gure, what the heck, let’s just use our current 
  series characters, or roll up some new RED 
  Clearance guys.
  Well, it’s their funeral. We playtested one 
  mini-mission with typical backstabbing, R&D-
  encumbered, secret society-romanticized, 
  RED Clearance characters. They all did 
  manage to get into the autocar alive, and 
  some did survive the ride, and if the dice had 
  been more favorable, one or two might have 
  made it to the beginning of the mission. But 
  we doubt it.
  It could have been a coincidence. But without 
  the heavy armor, the severe injunction against 
  summary executions, the leader control over 
  weapons and the emphasis on cooperative 
  play (all detailed here), don’t expect to get 
  far with the specially crafted missions. That’s 
  the whole point of playing an élite BLUE 
  Trooper.
  OH DETESTABLE TRAITOR, HANG YOUR HEAD IN SHAME!
  BLUE
  BLUE TROOPERS
  1. Ye have locked yerselves up in cages of fear—and, behold, do ye now complain that ye lack FREEDOM!
  2. Ye have cast out yer brothers for devils and now complain ye, lamenting that ye’ve been left to ﬁ ght alone.
  3. All Chaos was once yer kingdom; verily, held ye dominion over the entire Pentaverse, but today ye was sore afraid 
  in dark corners, nooks and sink holes.
  4. O how the darknesses do crowd up, one against the other, in ye hearts! What fear ye more that what ye have 
  wroughten?
  5. Verily, verily I say unto you, not all the Sinister Ministers of the Bavarian Illuminati, working together in 
  multitudes, could so entwine the land with tribulation as have yer baseless warnings.
  —Lord Omar, Principia Discordia Chapter 1, ‘The Epistle to the Paranoids’
  
  78
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  During the course of a HIL Sector series, 
  your Troopers will often make requests 
  for information, equipment and technical 
  assistance. Most often such requests can be 
  handled by the IntSec service bureaus listed 
  in this chapter, located in the giant HIL Sector 
  IntSec Headquarters facility. (If not, make 
  plenty of Access checks, and either give the 
  PCs a runaround or improvise a new service 
  bureau on the spot.)
  The entire IntSec operation is under the 
  jurisdiction of Captain Frank-l-OLL-5. He is 
  a dashing, ambitious citizen who started as 
  a lowly Troubleshooter and quickly rose to 
  the top of the largest Internal Security force 
  in all Alpha Complex. Frank-I is fair, just and 
  understands the problems his subordinates 
  face. That doesn’t mean Troopers can get 
  away with anything, however. Frank-I has his 
  sights set on higher ofﬁ ce, and pity the poor 
  Trooper who threatens his ambitions.
  The following listings include characterization 
  hints and an idea of how friendly the NPCs are 
  when dealing with obnoxious PC Troopers. 
  Remember in most cases, PCs normally deal 
  with subordinates in each department. Unless 
  otherwise noted, supervisors only deal with 
  Troopers in rare circumstances.
  ■ Armory
  If a Trooper needs a more powerful weapon 
  or some special piece of defensive armor, 
  this is the place. The armory is located in a 
  large, ﬁ ve-level complex in the back of IntSec 
  HQ. The heavily armored walls and patrolling 
  warbots are a Trooper’s most vivid memories 
  of his visit to this wonderful place.
  1: IntSecServe
  This department handles all Trooper weapon 
  and armor outﬁ tting and maintenance. The 
  staff has a reputation for unusually efﬁ cient 
  maintenance and service. It also has a 
  reputation for installing remote control devices 
  in all weapons, permitting the mission leader to 
  deactivate any subordinate’s weapon with the 
  ﬂ ick of a switch and for detecting unauthorized 
  tampering with weapons. Occasional spot 
  checks are ordered from time to time to catch 
  careless traitors.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: ‘Rip Yer Lungs Out’ Rocky-
  B-MBO-1
  Secret Society: Frankenstein Destroyers
  Mutant Power: Regeneration
  Weapons Technician: Wes-B-DBA-4
  Secret society: Death Leopard
  Mutant power: Electroshock
  Wes-B and Rocky-B love their work. They 
  also love their merchandise and are averse to 
  signing equipment out to Troopers. But once 
  convinced of the need by patriotic BLUEs, they 
  try to assign the biggest, most dangerous, most 
  special-effect-producing weapons they have. 
  They just love to hear a tacnuke explode at 
  duskcycle. And there’s nothing better than the 
  smell of napalm in the morning.
  PC: 
  We need a weapon to subdue a 
  poodlebot so we can return it to its 
  owner.
  Wes-B: No problem! We’ve got just the thing 
  to do the trick. How many thermo-
  radiation grenades will you need?
  Rocky-B is a retired Vulture Squadron goon 
  and a veteran of the Commie Sweep of 202. 
  He tells whoever will listen all about his heroics 
  on behalf of The Computer. ‘We leveled that 
  whole sector to end a terrible, terrible menace. 
  You know, hot radiation looks so pretty glowing 
  over smouldering ruins…’
  ■ Communications Central
  This IntSecServe department connects all 
  of Internal Security via PDC and com units. 
  The friendly operators of ComCent inform 
  Troopers of assignments, handle requests for 
  backups and reroute Troopers to HIL Sector 
  Central or some other civilian communication 
  band when they need to place a call outside 
  of IntSec HQ.
  Personnel
  Dispatch Supervisor: Brett-I-HIL-6
  Secret society: Humanist
  Mutant power: Empathy
  Duty Ofﬁ cer: Sergeant Noam-I-TNO-6
  Secret society: Romantics
  Mutant power: Mental Blast
  Dispatch Operator: Mabel-B-EEE-6
  Secret society: Free Enterprise
  Mutant power: Pyrokinesis
  Brett-I-HIL-6 is an INDIGO Clearance 
  Trooper assigned to desk duty in ComCent 
  because he’s been wounded and injured 
  so many times in the line of duty that even 
  a Docbot Mark 12 can’t restore him to full 
  function.
  Brett-I is universally regarded as wise and 
  loyal and has a reputation for looking out for 
  rookies, passing along helpful tips or taking an 
  inexperienced Trooper aside for a friendly talk 
  when he is about to get into serious trouble. 
  Brett-I has no political axe to grind, and he is 
  too shrewd to be an easy target, so he’s one 
  of those rare characters in Alpha Complex—a 
  guy a Trooper can trust.
  It is extremely unlikely players conditioned 
  to normal PARANOIA play would go around 
  looking for a friendly NPC, so you’ll probably 
  have to push Brett-I out in front of them 
  before they get much use out of him. You 
  can introduce Brett-I as the dispatcher for all 
  HIL Sector missions. Have him offer some 
  cautionary advice which turns out to be useful. 
  Have other NPCs send the PCs to him from 
  time to time for practical advice, or consult him 
  by com unit in the presence of the PCs. Take 
  every opportunity to present him as a source 
  of hints and advice.
  Noam-I is also the PCs’ unit supervisor, so 
  he’ll be dealing with them on a very intimate 
  basis. He can be their best friend in IntSec 
  if they play it straight with him, or he can be 
  their worst nightmare. If such is the case, they 
  get assigned to the most boring and the most 
  dangerous missions available, and the horrors 
  of Communication Central are even more 
  horrible than usual.
  Mabel-B is a fun-loving citizen who sometimes 
  works as a ComCent dispatcher and also 
  enjoys playing practical jokes. Her favorite 
  is switching the tongue tattoo identiﬁ cation 
  sensors in the PCs’ helmets. She’s also fond of 
  rerouting Troopers’ calls to High Programmers, 
  ■ IntSecServe 
  departments
  Armory
  Communications Central
  Forensic Sciences
  Informant Registry
  Ministry of Information
  Ministry of Political Orthodoxy and 
  Interrogation
  Motor Pool
  Mutant Registry
  PLC Outﬁ tting
  Political Therapy
  Research and Design (R&D)
  Surveillance and Covert Operations
  
  79
  FEELIN’ LUCKY, COMMIE MUTANT TRAITOR PUNK?
  BLUE
  INTSEC SERVICE BUREAUS
  Vulture unit leaders and The Computer. Do you know the penalty for 
  prank com calls in Alpha Complex?
  ■ Forensic Sciences
  Known as ‘The Lab’, this department  analyzes evidence or puzzling 
  phenomena encountered during an IntSec mission. The staff is available 
  for remote or ﬁ eld consultation when expert analysis is necessary.
  The staff is fascinated by high-tech toys and elegantly abstruse 
  scientiﬁ c theory. This is likely to breed short tempers in practical, time-
  pressed BLUE Troopers. Requests for ﬁ eld experts often result in the 
  appearance of bespectacled boy and girl geniuses freighted down with 
  fancy gadgets and polysyllabic blather. They wander absentmindedly 
  into ﬁ elds of ﬁ re, which is unfortunate because The Computer frowns 
  on accidents befalling such valuable citizens.
  ‘The Lab’ occasionally assigns experimental crime-ﬁ ghting devices 
  (bloodhoundbots, miniaturized lie detectors, Communist-hormone 
  detectors, etc.) to BLUE Trooper squads. Sometimes it assigns a lab 
  observer to accompany the squad to supervise testing. Refusing these 
  testing requests is a bad idea, always resulting in treason points.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: Larissa-Y-DAN-2
  Secret society: Sierra Club
  Mutant power: Hypersenses
  Forensic Technician: Candy-Y-DAN-2
  Secret society: Romantics
  Mutant power: Hypersenses
  Candy-Y and Larissa-Y were BLUE Troopers before their demotion 
  to forensics a short time ago. Using the same methods that made them 
  the darlings of the Trooper squad room—namely pushy and obnoxious 
  behavior—these citizens have turned forensics into an important 
  part of IntSec standard procedure. They base their whole scientiﬁ c 
  method on a highly questionable Department report about the most 
  effective scientiﬁ c methods. Needless to say, their methods are highly 
  unorthodox, questionable in nature and wholeheartedly supported by 
  The Computer.
  When dealing with Candy-Y and Larissa-Y, the PCs get the impression 
  one is friendly, cheerful and open, and the other is mean, nasty and 
  uncooperative. Which is which changes each time they call forensics. 
  And if the case is particularly interesting, Larissa-Y and Candy-Y forget 
  all about their current jobs and become the BLUE Troopers of legend 
  they once were.
  ■ Informant Registry
  This department provides BLUE Troopers with information not readily 
  available through more conventional means (e.g., via Access rolls). In 
  addition to undercover inﬁ ltration throughout Alpha Complex’s secret 
  societies, IntSec maintains a lively trafﬁ c in the information market. The 
  Informant’s Registry can provide Troopers with names and locations of 
  various citizens who can tell them when the next meeting of the Sierra 
  Club secret society is, where the IR Market drop stations are and which 
  bot is a Corpore Metal organizer.
  There are two general classes of informants. The larger group is 
  composed of eager, patriotic volunteers who keep an eye open for 
  anything treasonous or illegal. These folks are generally recognized 
  as public squealers and, because no one trusts them, seldom have 
  information of value.
  The other, smaller but more valuable group consists of well-placed 
  secret society members who sell information at high prices. Their lives 
  are at risk if discovered selling information to IntSec, and great care 
  is taken to provide anonymity and secure communication channels to 
  these informers. The bureau is generally unwilling to risk exposing them 
  except in cases of Alpha Complex security.
  The head of the department is Beth-V-DEE-3. Actually, she is the 
  department. Beth-V is getting on in years and has learned how to 
  cover herself quite well. This is why she’s been able to keep this job 
  for 20-odd years. Another reason is that her opponents (and those she 
  feels are opponents) get reported as traitors or exposed as Commies. 
  That’s why her new assistant, Pip-G-NEO-4 is nervous. He doesn’t 
  want to wind up as another in a long line of Commie traitors assigned 
  to the Informant’s Registry.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: Beth-V-DEE-3
  Secret society: Spy for another Alpha Complex
  Mutant power: Deep Thought
  Registry Coordinator: Pip-G-NEO-4
  Secret society: Romantics
  Mutant power: Regeneration
  Sweet, innocent Beth-V works closely with PLC Outﬁ tting, sewing 
  audio bugs and radar tracers into suspicious-acting citizen’s clothing 
  and uniforms. As long as PCs grovel properly, Beth-V is pleasant, helpful 
  and eager to provide assistance. If the PCs don’t grovel, they may learn 
  why she is dangerous to make mad.
  Beth-V’s job is to ﬁ le reports of treasonous activity and suspected 
  treasonous activity. She does this quickly, accurately and selectively. 
  A trooper demonstrates the new and improved Model X-4 Armor.
  
  80
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  She has been known to—occasionally—ﬁ le a treasonous report under 
  the wrong name (oops!) or even misﬁ le an entire stack of treasonous 
  evidence under the same name (giggle!). She is also a spy for another 
  Alpha Complex, planted long ago, who passes information to her 
  superiors whenever she is able.
  ■ Ministry of Information
  Troopers can always petition The Computer for information, but it is 
  almost always more effective to route a request through the Minilnfo. 
  IntSec often has access to original documents, testimony and blood 
  samples, while The Computer invariably disseminates carefully digested 
  and edited versions of events.
  Troopers contacting IntSec in person have no trouble, and Troopers 
  using their PDCs are automatically plugged into the MiniInfo research 
  banks. However, tying into the research banks via Communications 
  Central by computer terminal, PDC or other method requires a password. 
  The latest password is available from Communications Central, and 
  they’re very choosy about who they give it to.
  When using a remote console or PDC to request information, Troopers 
  are directly connected to an Information Ofﬁ cer, generally of GREEN 
  Clearance or lower, who personally handles their request. Most ofﬁ cers 
  are quite obsequious and cooperative; some are annoyingly overzealous 
  in political orthodoxy to the point that their cooperation is expensive 
  in time and energy. Pulling rank on these super-patriots can be risky, 
  but may be necessary if Troopers don’t have all day to wait for the 
  information they want.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: Ian-O-YKA-4
  Secret society: Sierra Club
  Mutant power: Mental Blast 
  Information Ofﬁ cer: Sam-R-TDS-2
  Secret society: Communists
  Mutant power: Levitation
  Sam-R is always on duty at the Ministry Information Counter. He 
  is a sniveling, whining, overweight citizen unhappy with his job, 
  and he’s sure everyone and The Computer are in a complicated 
  conspiracy to make him miserable.
  Troopers approaching the counter see a nameplate that reads 
  Sam-R-TDS-2. The number is written on a ﬂ ip card that can be 
  changed each time the Troopers return. They spot a RED clerk 
  sitting some distance away with a vidscreen in his lap.
  PC: 
  Excuse me. Can you tell me how to order a part for an 
  autocar?
  Sam-R: (Not taking his eyes off his portable vidscreen.) What’s 
  your security clearance?
  PC: 
  BLUE.
  Sam-R: Tough. No dice. Pop a happy pill. Leave me alone.
  PC: 
  Umrn…I was told you could help me.
  Sam-R: Nope. I’m watchin’ Teela. I’m not gonna get it now. 
  Come back tomorrow. Leave. Besides, you’re part of the 
  conspiracy. Well, it won’t work. I’m already miserable. Go 
  away.
  PC: 
  Okay. Just excuse me a second… there! (Rests a 
  cone riﬂ e on the bridge of Sam-R’s nose.) Now. Let’s start 
  over….
  The only thing that works with Sam-R is threatening him with 
  summary execution for not following orders. He’s already on his fourth 
  clone and grudgingly concedes to higher-clearance orders. It just takes 
  a little motivation to get him away from his vidscreen. When threatened, 
  Sam-R loses control of his mutant power, and nearby objects begin to 
  ﬂ oat about. 
  Incidentally, all Access checks lead back to Sam-R, or more precisely, 
  Sam-R’s queue at MiniInfo.
  Each time the PCs encounter Sam-R he’s on his next clone. After 
  his sixth Iife, either replace him with another NPC or have some high-
  clearance ofﬁ cial intercede to buy him another six-pack. (Why? Who 
  knows? Maybe Sam-R is the only one who knows the ﬁ ling system.)
  Sam-R knows where all types of information can be found, or whom 
  to talk to if he doesn’t have that information.
  His superior, Ian-O-YKA-4, is never available.
  ■ Ministry of Political Orthodoxy and 
  Interrogation
  Do the Troopers have an uncooperative witness? How about a suspect 
  that won’t talk? Or a known Commie who won’t confess? Bring them 
  in to MiniPOI for fast results, satisfaction guaranteed! This department 
  specializes in questioning citizens and getting them to confess—to 
  absolutely anything you want them to.
  All the latest in persuasive electronics are at MiniPOI’s dispoasl. Mind 
  sifters, mind scramblers, mind rearrangers and mind crushers are just 
  some of the fun devices  suspected Commies and traitors look forward 
  to. This department also keeps an eye on Troopers to ensure they are 
  proceeding by the book—the Big BLUE Book.
  This is the most overtly political of the IntSec service bureaus. Its 
  agents are generally fanatics, and many of the ofﬁ ce staff are secretly 
  CPU service group members.
  When things are going well in HIL Sector—when everything is quiet 
  and secure for The Computer and the citizenry—the Ministry keeps a 
  low proﬁ le and gets involved only when called upon by BLUE Troopers. 
  When things start going wrong—when important cases are slow to be 
  
  81
  solved, when important people get unhappy 
  with IntSec performance—agents from the 
  Ministry begin showing up in mission groups, 
  in corridors and in public lavatories. If Troopers 
  aren’t bringing them any brains to sift, they look 
  for reasons to sift Troopers’ brains.
  Officially, Ministry agents should be 
  indistinguishable from the populace to make 
  their undercover activities most effective; 
  however, there is a subtle sleek and prosperous 
  look about them the citizenry can sense—well-
  tailored clothes, perfectly groomed hair, an air 
  of repose, conﬁ dence and security. In game 
  terms, a PC with Moxie skill may recognize 
  an undercover MiniPOI agent.
  Encourage Troopers seeking information 
  from an uncooperative witness to use this 
  department. Then comes the fun part. Give the 
  PCs all the misleading information you want. 
  MiniPOI can serve as a wild-goose-chase kit. 
  The staffers solemnly deliver the information 
  pried from their victims. Encourage the PCs to 
  regard it as gospel. Make sure it is baloney.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: Mitch-V-CEI-2
  Secret society: Illuminati, inﬁ ltrating Psion
  Mutant power: Mental Blast
  Truth Technician: Hank-G-NMA-1
  Secret society: Psion
  Mutant power: Teleportation
  ■ Motor pool
  Need an autocar for the day? This is the place 
  to get one. And PCs can come in person or 
  call via their com units. Isn’t that convenient? 
  The motor pool also handles repairs and 
  maintenance of autocars and bots. The pool 
  itself is located on the ground level of IntSec 
  HQ Building 3. It also occupies three additional 
  sub-basements and has its own private transit 
  tube destination station. Row upon row of 
  autocar bays take up much of the space, along 
  with repair pits, elevated storage docks and 
  diagnostic computer stations.
  Good relations with the Vehicle Services staff 
  of the motor pool is essential to successful 
  mission completion. If the Grease Gang likes 
  them, PCs’ autocars will probably be reliable. 
  If the Grease Gang doesn’t know them, PCs 
  get whatever is handy—sometimes a risky 
  proposition. If the Grease Gang dislikes them, 
  they will go out of their way to assign PCs their 
  least-reliable equipment—autocars which 
  deliver them to the wrong sector, which break 
  down in the middle of a pursuit and occasionally 
  malfunction in dramatic ways when operated 
  at speeds in excess of 12 kph.
  The Grease Gang is sensitive about its 
  lowly status (they are INFRAREDs, REDs 
  and ORANGEs), and Troopers quickly get on 
  their bad side by pulling rank. On the other 
  hand, heroic tough guys strike their fancy, 
  and those knowledgeable in the Vehicle Ops 
  and Maintenance skill generally make a good 
  impression. Bribes are very effective. Squealer-
  rats and super-patriots are universally loathed; 
  Grease Gangers make an exaggerated show 
  of obsequious cooperation, but give them 
  deathtraps and junkers, regretfully explaining 
  that all the good vehicles are reserved for high-
  clearance folks or are out of service.
  The motor pool also handles maintenance 
  of IntSec guardbots, docbots and jackobots. 
  They are not particularly well-qualiﬁ ed for this 
  work, but budget cuts forced this economy. 
  IntSec bots are known for their unreliable 
  maintenance and programming and, within the 
  service, Troopers know not to put much faith 
  in them. Unfortunately, other service groups 
  generally put a lot of faith in bots, and external 
  requests that Troopers be supported by bots 
  are common and generally acknowledged.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: Sunny-O-OXD-3
  Secret society: Free Enterprise
  Mutant powers: Mechanical Intuition
  Mechanic: Sammie-O-OXD-4
  Secret society: Free Enterprise
  Mutant power: Machine Empathy
  Sunny-O-OXD-3 was near death after being 
  run over by a BLUE Trooper autocar. He was 
  quickly rushed to a nearby recovery cubicle and 
  placed in the care of a docbot. His coworkers, 
  convinced the damage was too great for even 
  modern medicine to overcome, reported his 
  sad demise and requested a replacement.
  But Sunny-O did not die! The gifted docbot 
  saved his life and he returned to his post the 
  following day. His co-workers rejoiced—and 
  then realized their mistake. Before they could 
  warn him, he wandered into his ofﬁ ce and 
  discovered his former creche-mate, Sammie-
  O, already in his place. After an interesting 
  but unsuccessful few months at Worker 
  Assignment Services, the former creche-mates 
  decided to work as a team. And everybody 
  rejoiced.
  Today, it is next to impossible to tell these 
  two apart. They act, look, talk and walk exactly 
  alike. (Think Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, 
  or the two Walt Disney chipmunks, Chip and 
  Dale.) They also have a deep-seated hatred 
  for BLUE Troopers due to the driving habits of 
  one reckless clone.
  Sunny-O: 
  May I help you?
  PC: 
  Yes. I need my autocar 
  repaired.
  Sunny-O: 
  Wait here and I’ll go out and 
  look at it. (Exits.)
  PC: 
  (Surprised at his eagerness to 
  help.) Thank you!
  Sammie-O: (Entering from another door.) 
  May I help you?
  PC: 
  Already being helped, 
  thanks…
  Sunny-O: 
  (Reentering and standing next 
  to Sammie-O.) There appears 
  to be a problem with—
  Sammie-O: The transmission?
  Sunny-O: 
  No. Try again?
  PC: 
  Excuse me…
  Sammie-O: (Ignoring PC.) The brakes. 
  Deﬁ nitely the brakes.
  Sunny-O: 
  Wrong again. You aren’t doing 
  well today. Maybe you should 
  have taken an extra wakey pill 
  this morning?
  Sammie-O: Wait, wait. (Pause.) I know! 
  The magnetic pulse power 
  strip! Yes?
  Sunny-O: 
  Gosh, you’re right!
  PC:  
  Excuse me, can I get my 
  autocar ﬁ xed?
  Sammie-O: (To PC) Excuse me! (To 
  Sunny-O) Is there anything 
  else wrong with the car?
  Sunny-O: 
  Yes! Oh, you’re catching on 
  faster. Guess again…
  These two are the mechanics most often 
  found down at the motor pool. They take care 
  of routine maintenance, refueling and repair 
  of IntSec autocars and are in charge of the 
  entire facility. They are also in charge of the 
  weekly Free Enterprise Bowling Tournaments. 
  Not-so-loyal citizens call in or visit to lay bets, 
  choose partners and pay debts. In the main 
  garage itself is a strange color-coded graph. 
  It is used to mark bowling results. Each team 
  is in a different color. This not only mocks 
  The Computer’s security clearances, but 
  is hazardous for any PC to ask questions 
  about. Sunny-O and Sammie-O have plenty 
  of blunt instruments lying about to answer 
  such questions.
  Both mechanics are happy and carefree. 
  They are glad to repair any vehicle. Harrass 
  or threaten them and they will still ﬁ x your car. 
  Eventually. Some day. Real Soon Now.
  ■ Mutant Registry
  Just stepping into the busy Mutant Registry 
  waiting room alerts Troopers to the unique 
  NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW NOR GLOOM OF NIGHTCYCLE…
  BLUE
  MORE SERVICE BUREAUS
  
  82
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  atmosphere of this service department. Citizens wearing jumpsuits 
  of various colors—each bearing the distinctive yellow Registered 
  Mutant stripe—lounge lazily on benches. One idly munches on a bar of 
  aluminum. Another casually directs lightning bolts into a scorched table 
  leg. Messengers ﬂ oat to and fro like Mary Poppins. A clerk is taking 
  notes as the citizen across the desk rigidly grips the arms of his chair, 
  his ears smoking and his eyes spinning like pinwheels.
  Troopers can borrow Computer-sanctioned mutants for crimeﬁ ghting 
  tasks. These mutants are happyallowed to freely use their powers 
  whenever they want. The Computer says so. As loyal citizens, they 
  always listen to The Computer. They love working alongside the famous 
  HIL Sector BLUEs. Oh, and they’re all psychotic.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: Martie-I-OLG-2
  Secret society: Anti-Mutant
  Mutant power: Empathy
  Registry Clerk: Preston-O-XEX-2
  Secret society: Psion
  Mutant power: Mental Blast
  Martie-I, the citizen in charge of the registry, belongs to Anti-Mutant. 
  He hates mutants. He sends them out on the most dangerous IntSec 
  missions, hoping they will terminate themselves and save his society 
  the trouble.
  Preston-O’s sacred mission is to start a free society of mutantkind 
  somewhere Outdoors. He tries to protect all mutants—registered or 
  not—while compiling statistics on them. If a Trooper displays a mutant 
  power, Preston-O is sure to contact him in the near future.
  ■ PLC outﬁ tting
  This department has ofﬁ ces and a small warehouse at IntSec HQ The 
  supplies are well stocked, and the staff is uncooperative. Due to the 
  small staff (composed of Spencer-G-RLE-6 and Simon-R-IDO-2) and 
  warehouse, exotic items like Outdoor gear, engineering equipment or 
  personal grooming supplies have to be shipped in from another sector: 
  ‘It’ll take six to eight weeks.’
  PLC Outﬁ tting is near the HIL Sector IntSec target range. The 
  explosions and ﬂ ying debris that distinguish this area have an unnerving 
  effect on the employees of PLC. A considerable portion of PLC’s 
  restocking is in the area of earplugs, earmuffs and umbrellas. Lots of PLC 
  technicians wear their work home with them. Especially the ones that 
  have to walk by the target range. They can be seen holding umbrellas 
  over their ear-muffed heads as they pass the target range.
  IntSec Troopers can get any type of clothing they can imagine here—in 
  blue, of course.
  Anything Spencer-G-RLE-6 even remotely conceives as dangerous 
  weapons is available only through the armory. Spencer-G considers 
  suspenders dangerous weapons.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: Spencer-G-RLE-6
  Secret society: Pro Tech
  Mutant power: Deep Thought
  Service Representative: Simon-R-IDO-2
  Secret society: Pro Tech
  Mutant power: Hypersenses
  When playing Spencer-G, think of a mad scientist with a mohawk 
  haircut. Spencer-G isn’t much for conversation, and he isn’t much for 
  courtesy. He suspects everyone of treason and keeps his thoughts to 
  himself. He may be in charge, but he doesn’t trust his subordinate worth 
  a plugged credit, so he’s always around to handle requests.
  Said subordinate, Simon-R, is always around too, and somehow 
  manages to get into an argument with Spencer-G whenever a Trooper 
  needs a piece of equipment right now.
  ■ Political Therapy
  ‘Brain-cleaning While You Wait.’ Actually, most of the heavy-duty 
  mindroasting goes on in the Frank-O-RRK Memorial Recreation 
  Center—a charming spa which makes a gulag look like Club Med. 
  DeePolTee concentrates on rehabilitating citizens intimidated and 
  interrogated into confessing criminal thoughts and deeds by MiniPoI. 
  Clients are encouraged to absorb vast quantities of information (via 
  mind reconstructors) and to spout polite and effusive praise for The 
  Computer, Alpha Complex and its citizens.
  The staff of DeePolTee is not very interested in rehabilitating The 
  Computer’s stray citizens. They just want results, and to play with 
  their subjects in high-tech chambers of horror that would have made 
  Torquemada green with envy. Imagine an army of ﬁ endishly cackling 
  Vincent Prices with unlimited access to high voltage current, and you’ve 
  got the idea.
  No experienced Troopers at HIL Sector IntSec take the functions of 
  DeePolTee very seriously, but as a boogie man to threaten uncooperative 
  witnesses and detainees, DeePolTee serves admirably.
  Rookies, however, have to learn from experience about the 
  worthlessness of DeePolTee’s corrective services. (Vets know that 
  it’s always imprudent to badmouth the capabilities of professionals 
  who are licensed to apply orbital sanders to human ﬂ esh in search of 
  the eternal verities.) Therefore encourage the PCs to drag potential 
  information sources down to these fun-loving gnomes. Let the PCs 
  watch the proceedings from the observation booth. But please, no 
  getting sick on the carpet.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: Flynn-I-MMA-2
  Secret society: Mystics
  Mutant power: Mental Blast
  Loyalty Ofﬁ cer: Biff-G-OFB-3
  Secret society: Communists
  Mutant power: Charm
  ■ Research & Design
  This ofﬁ ce foists dangerous (and occasionally lethal) experimental 
  devices on unsuspecting IntSec Troopers. The Computer seeks to 
  maintain the high success its BLUE Troopers have achieved, and the 
  only way to do this is by keeping up with the latest in crimeﬁ ghting 
  technology.
  R&D is located in the heavily armored building right next to the armory. 
  Personnel of both departments let each other know when something 
  is going to go boom. They all love to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ while watching a 
  really great explosion.
  
  83
  There are no mad scientists or designers 
  here. All of IntSec’s R&D citizens are perfectly 
  sane. Perfectly. Devices are often crated 
  and shipped without proper (or intelligible) 
  documentation or manuals. The staff is 
  unusually polite, but extraordinarily ignorant 
  and misinformed. Usually they have absolutely 
  no idea—or the wrong idea—about what a 
  device is supposed to do, but they are under 
  orders to invent such devices and have them 
  tested. Loyal R&D citizens enthusiastically and 
  loyally follow orders.
  Though the players should discover it only 
  by experience, it is not treasonous to refuse 
  experimental equipment when assigned to 
  urgent IntSec business. In any case, R&D 
  staffers will not make a stink, and corrections 
  are assigned only if the mission was low-risk 
  and the refusal to accept the device seemed 
  unreasonable or overtly treasonous.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: Julius-V-NRE-5
  Secret society: Computer Phreaks
  Mutant power: Uncanny Luck
  Research Technician: Herm-G-ELW-5
  Secret society: FCCC-P (former Mystic)
  Mutant power: Matter Eater
  Julius-V believes his subordinates envy 
  his quick rise to VIOLET Clearance. (They 
  do.) Julius-V also believes he got to VIOLET 
  Clearance by sheer accident. (He did.) He also 
  believes he’d be demoted if anyone found out. 
  (Wrong. He’d be executed.) This thinking helps 
  keep Julius-V paranoid and extremely eager 
  to help anyone in any way. The less suspicion 
  he garners, the longer he’ll get to watch things 
  go boom.
  This isn’t easy as head of R&D, unfortunately. 
  Random explosions, routine destruction of 
  valuable Computer property and constant 
  clone replacements keep Julius-V in the news 
  and continuously monitored by agents of The 
  Computer.
  Julius-V is in charge of six rather inept 
  would-be inventors. They strive to outdo each 
  other in developing new devices. This isn’t to 
  please Julius-V—they are vying for his job as 
  the new R&D head because they are sure his 
  fall is imminent.
  Julius-V knows very little about the projects 
  his team has either completed or is still 
  testing. He permits his subordinates to actually 
  hand out experimental devices to Troopers, 
  allowing blame to fall on their heads whenever 
  possible—which is how he has survived so 
  long.
  Herm-G, his assistant and right-hand man, 
  is not focused in the here-and-now. He would 
  ﬁ t right into the 1960s Hippie movement. Wow, 
  man. Cool. He especially likes to stare at nice, 
  swirling colors for hours on end. Most of the 
  devices he signs out form nice, swirling colors 
  when they explode.
  ■ Surveillance and Covert 
  Operations
  This department provides skilled undercover 
  operatives and surveillance technicians to 
  other IntSec service bureaus. The staffers 
  regard themselves as professionals, craftsmen 
  and artists.
  Indifferent to politics or idealism, they’re 
  rather casual in their observance of loyalty 
  to The Computer and their superiors; such 
  temperament is tolerated only in citizens of 
  real ability.
  In a mission, NPCs assigned from this 
  department are unusually capable and 
  unusually unimpressed by security clearances 
  and accusations of treason. PCs who accuse 
  them of security breaches and treason are 
  unusually ventilated by unusually accurate—
  and powerful—weapons ﬁ re. Think Dirty Harry 
  and Raymond Chandler shamus types.
  Personnel
  Supervisor: Charles-B-NSD-4
  Secret society: Death Leopard
  Mutant power: Pyrokinesis
  Field Agent: Dirk-Y-RYH-5
  Secret society: Humanists
  Mutant power: Uncanny Luck
  Field Agent: Cody-V-TRE-2
  Secret society: PURGE
  Mutant power: Empathy
  Field Agent: Oprah-I-NSO-3
  Secret society: Death Leopard
  Mutant power: Corrosion
  Charles-B is supervisor because he much 
  prefers working behind a desk than being in 
  the line of ﬁ re. The others love making Commie 
  mutant traitors suffer in assorted fashions and 
  allow Charles-B to do the paperwork, leaving 
  them free to practice their art.
  ALL RIGHT, CLANC-Y, TAKE THE BOYS AND SURROUND THE HOUSE!
  BLUE
  JUST A WHOLE LOT OF BUREAUS
  BIG EXPLOSIONS  
  RAISE OUR 
  ENTERTAINMENT 
  QUOTIENT.
  
  84
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  2: Running gags
  In this and the next chapter we Famous Game 
  Designers share our pellucid insights on the art 
  of designing PARANOIA missions, particularly 
  missions for a series set in HIL Sector. First, in 
  ‘Running gags’, we discuss those invaluable 
  conventional elements, the almost-incidental-
  but-often-incredibly-difﬁ cult-or-dangerous 
  problems that must be overcome before the 
  Troopers even get started on their mission.
  In the next chapter, ‘The mission itself’, 
  we describe the kinds of mission ideas that 
  work best in the HIL Sector setting, suggest 
  how to develop them, then give storyline 
  hooks to stimulate your already overexcited 
  imagination.
  The typical HIL Sector Blues mission contains 
  most or all of the following elements:
  � Where are those guys?
  � The mission bulletin
  � The horror of Communications Central
  � The transit tubes: Adventure in 
  transportation
  Where are those guys?
  In previous PARANOIA missions it has been 
  customary to assume the characters are 
  off-duty somewhere, snoozing, queueing up 
  for drug therapy or watching Teela O’Malley. 
  Now that the PCs are BLUE Clearance types, 
  they are usually summoned only while on-
  duty. Oh, sometimes they’ll be interrupted 
  by an emergency bulletin while lounging in 
  their private saunas, or called away from their 
  specially prepared gourmet-food-and-Happy-
  Fizz soirees, or gently prodded to wakefulness 
  by deferential RED batmen. But generally their 
  assignments reach them while they are at their 
  duty ofﬁ ces at IntSecServe Central or on patrol 
  in their autocars.
  Each BLUE Trooper has his own private duty 
  ofﬁ ce with a desk, monitor, research console 
  and comfortable furniture. A small adjoining 
  room is provided for napping when emergency 
  conditions require his extended presence at 
  IntSecServe.
  When a Trooper is not at his desk, he is 
  usually in the Duty Ready Room, where 
  Troopers gather to chat and informally 
  exchange ideas and rumors, or in the Trooper’s 
  Lounge, where a giant vidscreen constantly 
  replays classic Computer propaganda ﬁ lms, 
  and tasty snacks and beverages are served.
  Troopers may also be on patrol or on an 
  assignment when they receive a mission 
  bulletin. They may either be in an autocar of 
  some kind, or they may be on foot in a HIL 
  Sector locality when the bulletin is broadcast 
  through both their helmet and autocar com 
  units. Depending on the priority of the mission 
  bulletin, they may have to respond immediately 
  or can respond at their convenience. For 
  example, if the Troopers are polishing a High 
  Programmer’s Delta 666 Cruisomatic autocar 
  when they receive a bulletin requesting aid 
  for a team of beleaguered RED Clearance 
  Troubleshooters, they may be forgiven if they 
  are less than prompt in their response.
  Encourage the players to roleplay their 
  responses to bulletins according to the activity 
  the bulletin interrupts. Take a few seconds and 
  set the stage before reading:
  You are all sitting around a table in 
  the Duty Ready Room playing Bake 
  the Traitor. You [point at Player A] just 
  won his [point at Player B] identiﬁ cation 
  papers in the last round, but this round 
  you [point at Player B] have drawn 
  a winning hand—two Independent 
  Sources, a Mutant and a Material 
  Witness. The rest of you are sitting 
  in your skivvies, hoping for a change 
  of luck.
  And then, suddenly… a bulletin!
  The behavior of NPC fellow ofﬁ cers is an 
  effective model and inspiration as you are 
  establishing the tone of the campaign. For 
  example:
  Bulletin: Go there and do this 
  immediately!
  Veteran Trooper: (Yawn. Peers up 
  regretfully from the massage table, 
  then beckons to rookie partner.) 
  Here. Hold my Bouncy Bubble 
  Beverage while I go see if I can 
  ﬁ nd my gun.
  Or…
  Bulletin: Go there and do this 
  immediately!
  Gung-Ho Trooper: (Snaps to attention from 
  the edge of his seat in the Duty 
  Ready Room.) Yessir! Right away! 
  Shake a leg! Double-time down to 
  the autocar while I radio ahead for 
  combot strike force support…and 
  look smart with that laser cannon, 
  Trooper, unless you’re eager to get 
  back to swabbing vats…
  The mission bulletin
  The primary function of a mission bulletin is to 
  send the PCs off to some interesting setting 
  where they may be killed. Thanks to the 
  unparalleled coercive force of PARANOIA’s 
  voice of The Computer, Gamemasters may 
  choose to rely on inelegant, straightforward 
  messages:
  MISSION ALERT!
  GO OUT IN THE HALL. NOW. 
  CERTAIN DEATH IS WAITING FOR 
  YOU THERE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR 
  COOPERATION.
  However, a well-composed HIL Sector 
  Blues Mission Bulletin contains the following 
  additional elements:
  � The coordinates of the location where 
  the PCs are being sent. These must 
  be fed into the autocar autopilot. HIL 
  Sector coordinates are alphanumerics 
  of indeterminate length and complexity, 
  stated in the following form: something-
  dash-other-dash-whatever, where 
  something is the east-west coordinate, 
  other is the north-south coordinate 
  and whatever is the ﬁ rmament-earth’s 
  core coordinate. The more remote 
  and inaccessible the location, the 
  more outrageous the length of the 
  alphanumerics. For example:
  �  a nearby location: 3B-10F-F8X.
  �  a distant location: MRG1540-
  LOPD9003-MMDR57238F.
  However, a disconcertingly simple 
  alphanumeric may imply a secret or 
  high-clearance area. For example:
  �  4-F-1.
  � A code designation. This describes the 
  general type of disturbance the PCs can 
  expect (see the IntSec response code 
  
  85
  table at the end of this chapter). The 
  judicious use of unknown or implausible 
  codes (i.e., Code Beaver-Rose-Duck) 
  can signal a particularly unwelcome 
  assignment.
  � Appropriate IntSecServe or other 
  service ﬁ rm informants or resources 
  to contact in person or by com unit. 
  These references can steer the PCs to 
  search for information, clues or hints 
  from various NPCs, or may suggest 
  sources of equipment (typically R&D 
  or Outﬁ tting) or NPC support personnel 
  (Mutant’s Registry, Surveillance and 
  Covert Operations, BotBusters, etc).
  These references are an excellent 
  way to set up the minor roleplaying 
  encounters that are so effective in 
  PARANOIA—little quickies that are 
  not essential to the central narrative, 
  and that have plenty of latitude for free-
  spirited improvisation and PC torture.
  � A misleading or ironic understatement 
  of the mission’s dangers. This is a 
  charming feature of The Computer’s 
  cheerful, positive style—everything in 
  Alpha Complex is safe, easy and fun. As 
  a result, citizens automatically assume 
  everything is much worse than they are 
  told, and they spend endless energy 
  imagining how awful it could be.
  This energy seldom turns out to have 
  been wasted.
  The horror of 
  Communications Central
  Remember how, when the PCs are just RED 
  Clearance, the most common response to 
  any question is, ‘I’m sorry, that information is 
  not available at your security clearance’? It 
  may come as a shock to you that inadequate 
  security clearance is not the primary reason 
  for denial of information requests. Oh, sure, 
  The Computer is careful about who receives 
  what information. But the important, and rather 
  sobering, insight is The Computer often can’t 
  answer a question even if it wanted to.
  The Computer knows a lot. What it doesn’t 
  know, it can usually ask its loyal Alpha Complex 
  citizens about. But what The Computer 
  and its loyal citizens know is not centrally 
  organized. Much of The Computer’s database 
  is scattered through hundreds of CompNodes 
  throughout Alpha Complex and its access 
  to those fragments is limited by the ability 
  to communicate with them. Ditto for The 
  Computer’s knowledgable informants.
  Therefore the real bottleneck is in the 
  communications system. And the Alpha 
  Complex system is unimaginably fouled 
  up. The comlinks themselves are poorly 
  designed, ancient, inadequately maintained, 
  popular targets for sabotage, supervised by 
  security-ridden and defective Computer and 
  bot systems and inﬁ ltrated and tampered with 
  by every secret society in Alpha Complex.
  Even worse, in this utopia each citizen has 
  unlimited, free access to a PDC or comlinks. 
  Once a citizen does reach a party in question, 
  he tends to stay on the line as long as he can, 
  fully aware it may not come his way again in 
  the near future,
  And the youth of Alpha Complex have much 
  in common with the teens of another era—they 
  love to talk on the phone.
  Now, a Trooper depends on swift and reliable 
  communication for efficient and effective 
  pursuit of his duties. Are you really surprised 
  he is denied this necessity? And can you 
  imagine not exploiting this opportunity to annoy 
  your players?
  Here are just a few of the ways a Trooper 
  relies on his PDC:
  � To receive bulletins while on patrol
  � To call the motor pool for an autocar to 
  respond to bulletins received while on 
  patrol
  � To communicate with locations where 
  disturbances occur to get advance 
  information on the situation
  � To communicate with the various 
  IntSecServe departments that provide 
  information and support
  � To communicate with superiors when 
  clariﬁ cation of means and objectives 
  are necessary
  � To receive updates on mission status 
  from IntSec Central
  Think how happy your players will be when 
  you start systematically frustrating their attempt 
  to use their PDCs. Here are the sorts of 
  annoyances they have to deal with every time 
  they want to call up and order a pizza.
  � The operator: When a Trooper uses 
  his PDA, he ﬁ rst speaks to the IntSec 
  Central operator. If he wants an 
  IntSecServe connection, the operator 
  handles it; otherwise he is switched to 
  HIL Sector Central, or Alpha Central if 
  the call is out-of-sector.
  These operators are your ﬁ rst line 
  annoyances. They speak either in 
  slow, nasal monotones or mumble 
  unintelligibly. Before they can even 
  think about handling a call, they need 
  to check your ID and authorization to 
  use IntSecServe com lines.
  ‘Hehhh-lloh. IntSec Central. Please 
  press your tongue tattoo to the 
  identiﬁ cation grid. Thank you. Now, 
  with what comcode do you wish 
  to connect? Excuse me, could you 
  speak a little louder? No, I’m sorry, I 
  can’t connect you without a comcode. 
  Just a minute, I’ll connect you with 
  IntSec Comcode Information. One 
  ringy-dingy…’
  Assuming there is no foul-up with the 
  identiﬁ cation grid (‘Aha! You are NOT 
  who you claim to be. Please wait where 
  you are—IntSec Troopers have been 
  dispatched to escort you to…’) and the 
  PCs haven’t memorized the comcode, 
  or it hasn’t been changed in the past 30 
  minutes, go to…
  � Information, please: There are 
  Comcode Information operators for 
  IntSecServe (and other service groups), 
  HIL Sector (and other sectors) and 
  Alpha Central. Here Troopers can be 
  delayed and annoyed for a variety of 
  reasons:
  ‘Could you spell that, please? I’m 
  sorry, we have no listing for anyone 
  by that name. No, there is no listing 
  for Research & Design. Are you sure 
  you don’t need HIL Sector Central? 
  Oh, wait, here’s the reference. Please 
  hold while I check… [time passes]. 
  Hello? Can I help you? I’m sorry. 
  What party do you want?’
  After getting a courteous runaround, 
  Troopers are reconnected with the 
  operator so they can place their calI. 
  Of course, the ﬁ rst two or three times 
  they are given a wrong or obsolete 
  number, so they may have to come 
  back to information several times before 
  getting to the Operator with the correct 
  number.
  ONE RINGY-DINGY.
  BLUE
  COMMUNICATIONS CENTRAL
  
  86
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  � Interrupted service: At any point in the 
  process, a comlink may be interrupted. 
  One common interruption is ‘Can I 
  put you on hold?’—with the result 
  that Troopers are either disconnected 
  (*Click*) or placed on interminable 
  hold while an endless tape loop plays 
  ‘Rainbots Keep Falling on my Head’.
  Another common problem is technical 
  failure (*Click*)—which may actually be 
  a line problem, or may be an operator 
  who is tired of talking. Or there may be 
  the crossed-wires interruption—another 
  party is accidentally connected with 
  the Trooper, or he is switched to a 
  conversation already in progress. 
  This can be quite nice when the two 
  conversants are bandying rumors or 
  plotting Commie subversion—though, of 
  course, it is always impossible to trace 
  the call or identify the speakers.
  � The busy signal: This is our hands-
  down favorite—a loud EHHNT-EHHNT-
  EHHNT-EHHNT-EHHNT-EHHNT noise 
  repeated over and over until your 
  players begin mumbling about justiﬁ able 
  homicide.
  � The insufferably stupid/surly/
  uncooperative receptionist: Whenever 
  Troopers contact another service 
  bureau or ofﬁ cial agency, there is always 
  a receptionist who takes the call and 
  holds onto it until they scream, or who 
  switches them to the wrong department, 
  or who accidentally hangs up on them, 
  or who promises to have someone call 
  them right back, but who forgets to take 
  a name and number, or who knows no 
  one from their pathetic service ﬁ rm could 
  have any reason to talk to anyone in this 
  department. And, indeed, many times 
  the receptionist has been instructed to 
  sabotage as many calls as possible in 
  order to avoid annoying requests for 
  resources and information.
  � Lame equipment: Most of Alpha 
  Complex’s communications net is either 
  hundreds of years old or brand new, 
  designed by R&D, manufactured by 
  cheerful INFRAREDs or misprogrammed 
  workbots, and installed by under-trained 
  drones from Tech Services. All of it 
  is poorly maintained and regularly 
  sabotaged by a wide array of fanatics 
  and hobbyists.
  Therefore it is no surprise when 
  connections are suddenly cut off or 
  crosswired in mid-sentence, or when the 
  voice quality is unintelligible or inaudible, 
  or when background noise, muzak or 
  propaganda is ‘accidentally’ switched 
  onto the line.
  To stage this sort of thing, have your 
  players speak with large objects in their 
  mouths, or turn your TV up to full volume 
  and make your players shout over it to 
  be heard, or ﬁ ll your dialog with long, 
  onomotopoetic buzzes, whistles and 
  clicks, which routinely displace critical 
  information or urgent orders from their 
  superiors.
  � Big Brother is watching you: And, 
  of course, the ever-vigilant guardians 
  of Alpha Complex’s security spend 
  a lot of time monitoring PDC traffic. 
  Generally they are none too careful 
  about concealing their presence—often 
  PCs can hear the Monitors of Computer 
  Loyalty in the background of their calls, 
  scribbling notes, chattering to other 
  monitors and wolfing down working 
  lunches.
  Sometimes, overcome by an attack 
  of righteous zeal, they interrupt right 
  in the middle of a call, demanding 
  an explanation for that treasonous 
  statement, or dispatching a squad 
  of combots to bring the caller in for 
  immediate interrogation. They, of 
  course, have absolutely no trouble 
  tracing a call.
  You can endlessly combine and vary all 
  these wonderful communications resources 
  to provide regular misery for your players. And 
  because you are a PARANOIA Gamemaster, 
  we give you permission to run this joke right 
  into the ground.
  Then, lay off your PCs for a while. Tell them 
  about the big purge in Tech Services. R&D 
  steps in with a revolutionary new PDC system. 
  Everything is suddenly wonderful. Give them 
  efﬁ cient, reliable and courteous service for an 
  episode or two, just long enough for them to 
  become dependent on it.
  Then, inevitably, the R&D stuff melts. Lots of 
  Troopers are glazed with their helmets on. Run 
  a couple of missions with no communications, 
  nothing but RED foot messengers with 
  powerful lungs.
  Then bring back the old system. The players 
  will love you. For a while.
  Interviewer: Do you think that the government is 
  winning the battle against terrorists?
  Deputy Minister Helpmann: Oh yes. Our morale is 
  much higher than theirs, we’re ﬁ elding all their 
  strokes, running a lot of them out, and pretty 
  consistently knocking them for six. I’d say they’re 
  nearly out of the game.
  Interviewer: But the bombing campaign is now in 
  its thirteenth year....
  Helpmann: Beginner’s luck.
  —Brazil (dir. Terry Gilliam) [1985]
  
  87
  Transit tubes: Adventure in 
  transportation
  Getting around in HIL Sector used to be easy. it 
  had the usual crawlways, pedestrian corridors, 
  moving sidewalks, autocar tunnels and turbo 
  elevators common to most of Alpha Complex. 
  Everything worked swell and everyone was 
  happy. The Computer said so.
  Then a group of ULTRAVIOLET High 
  Programmers got together and designed a 
  new form of transportation—transit tubes. 
  They decided that HIL Sector was the perfect 
  place to build and test this highly innovative 
  travel system. The tubes would make travel 
  faster and save on precious fuel by using a 
  modiﬁ ed electromagnetic impulse grid to shoot 
  modiﬁ ed autocars from one entry station to 
  another. Plans called for the grid to stretch 
  in all directions, up the walls and across the 
  ceiling, creating a super ten-lane, enclosed 
  highway. There would even be protected 
  walkways for citizens to casually stroll upon, 
  allowing all to appreciate the newest wonder 
  in The Computer’s fair realm. It was a good 
  idea, and everyone would be happier. The 
  Computer said so.
  Down came the crawlways. Moving sidewalks 
  slowed to a halt and were ripped up. Noisy, 
  unsightly autocar tunnels were dismantled. The 
  turbo elevator shafts were sealed. Then work 
  began on the amazing transit tube network. 
  The intention behind the tubes was to provide 
  a safe, efﬁ cient and speedy way to get around 
  HIL Sector, while capitalizing on fuel economy 
  and ease of maintenance.
  The tubes to HIL Sector are paved with good 
  intentions.
  HIL Sector was sealed off from the rest of 
  Alpha Complex, completely surrounded and 
  criss-crossed by kilometers of transit tubes. No 
  outside autocar access was available. Within 
  HIL Sector, quick movement is possible only 
  via transit tube. Into and out of the sector, 
  citizens were serviced by the ultra-modern 
  transbot express system, such as the famed 
  ORI Sector Express.
  Today the results of the High Programmers’ 
  labors are quite evident. Tubes end abruptly, 
  sections are missing and much of the structure 
  is falling apart. The entire project is a mess, 
  due in part to the fact that High Programmers 
  know next to nothing about engineering and 
  architectural design. However, that mess is 
  now the primary mode of transportation in all 
  of HIL Sector. To save themselves from the 
  embarrassing task of explaining why their 
  grand design doesn’t work (which could result 
  in lots of needless executions), the UVs wiped 
  the data on the project from The Computer’s 
  memory banks. The Computer knows there are 
  no transit tubes. Never were. Never ever.
  The existence of modified autocars and 
  transbots in a sector that has no transit 
  tubes is a troublesome contradiction. The 
  Computer ignores troublesome contradictions. 
  Citizens bringing troublesome contradictions 
  to The Computer’s attention are promptly 
  rewarded with a commendation and summary 
  execution.
  ■ The destination station
  The transit tubes are lined with hundreds of 
  recessed, accordion-style cubicles called 
  destination stations (or entry stations, if 
  you’re about to enter the system). These 
  stations are folded in the tube walls and out 
  of the way when not in use, thus providing 
  free and unrestricted passage for HIL Sector 
  trafﬁ c.
  When an autocar approaches its destination 
  coordinates, it slows to a halt and pulls 
  alongside the emerging cubicle. Isn’t that 
  neat?
  There is a slight problem when citizens 
  access an entry station, however. Theoretically, 
  when the entry station is activated, ﬂ ashing 
  lights and loud sirens ﬁ ll the tube section, and 
  power is reduced to slow any autocars in the 
  vicinity. It almost works, too. An encounter 
  with an emerging entry station goes something 
  like this:
  You are speeding through a lonely 
  stretch of transit tube when suddenly 
  a large, rectangular cubicle juts out of 
  the tube wall. You smash into it at full 
  speed, ﬁ rmly implanting your vehicle 
  in the entry station. Then lights begin 
  to ﬂ ash, sirens whoop and a calm, 
  mechanical voice echoes, ‘Warning, 
  entry station activated. Please slow 
  all vehicles and proceed with caution. 
  Thank you for your cooperation!’
  ■ Autocars
  To make full use of this non-existent 
  transportation system, citizens must have 
  access to specially designed transbots or 
  modified autocars. A transbot is basically 
  a large, semi-intelligent mechanical box 
  that carries lots of citizens from one entry 
  station to another. They are for the masses, 
  designed to comfortably stand 20 citizens at 
  a time. Common practice is for the transbots 
  (malicious sapients that they are) to wait for 
  an additional 40 or so citizens to pile in before 
  closing up and pulling out. Troopers can use 
  these transportation bots, but they are slow, 
  unreliable, crowded and unwilling to divert from 
  their preprogrammed route.
  The autocar better serves the BLUE Troopers’ 
  purpose. Autocars are smaller, sleeker, more 
  attractive and able to move independently 
  through the extensive tube network. They 
  have been modiﬁ ed to work in transit tubes, 
  outﬁ tted with lots of magnetic relays, pulse 
  bypasses and energy-storage coils. To protect 
  the costly equipment, all autocars are equipped 
  with an electronic hazard-sensor system 
  that is sensitive to extreme heat, cold and 
  humidity. The Haz-sens System 1 is mounted 
  to the underside of the vehicles and shuts 
  down power to that section of the tubes in the 
  event of an emergency that could damage an 
  autocar.
  ■ Obtaining an autocar
  Citizens of Security Clearance INDIGO and 
  higher are permitted to own personal autocars. 
  GREEN and lower citizens are assigned 
  autocars depending on their duties and 
  the whim of PLC, or must depend on mass 
  ■ Typical BLUE Trooper 
  autocar
  Vehicle: Turbo Z-334 VariTube-
  Terrain
  Patrol Vehicle
  Sensors: Multicorder 2, Haz-sens
  System 1
  Control: Manual and/or autopilot
  Communication: None standard
  Seats: 7
  Security clearance: BLUE
  (Trunk compartment for suspects:
  INFRARED)
  Speed (low/maximum): 20/100 kph
  Weapons system: Laser cannon 1,
  plus front-mounted anti-missile
  laser and/or smoke generator
  Armor: Vulture 020 Series
  The laser cannon retracts into the hood 
  of the autocar when not in use. When 
  active the cannon completely blocks 
  the windshield, obstructing the driver’s 
  vision.
  PCs use Vehicle Ops and Maintenance 
  skill to pilot the autocars, or make 
  continuous Violence checks to avoid 
  entertaining accidents.
  EVERYTHING YOU SAY HAS ALREADY BEEN USED AGAINST YOU…
  BLUE
  THE TRANSIT TUBES
  
  88
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  transportation such as HIL Sector’s transbots. 
  BLUE Troopers are stuck somewhere in 
  the middle. While they do not own personal 
  autocars, Troopers have unlimited access to 
  the vehicles. They just have to clear it with the 
  guys in the motor pool.
  If there is time, Troopers are encouraged 
  to go down to the motor pool and sign out a 
  vehicle. The particular autocar assigned is 
  dependent upon their status with the motor 
  pool guys. If they like you, you get a sleek 
  BLUE Clearance runabout hatchback. If they 
  despise you, you might receive an INFRARED 
  turbocar with bumpers tied to the frame and 
  gum on the seat —if you get anything at all. 
  ‘I’m sorry. There are no autocars available at 
  this time.’
  Abuse is plentiful and bootlicking is strongly 
  suggested when dealing with the motor pool.
  But if there is an emergency and time is of 
  the essence, Troopers can call for an autocar 
  via com unit. With any luck, it’ll arrive within 
  scant seconds.
  After a short discussion with an irate 
  operator, you place an order for an 
  autocar, Code 5 (vehicle requested: 
  emergency). You quickly make your 
  way to the nearest transit tube station 
  and switch on your vehicle tracking 
  signal, attached to your belt. Within 
  seconds you hear the wailing siren, 
  see the ﬂ ashing light and watch in 
  amazement as the autocar locks 
  onto your belt signal, navigates the 
  magnetic-grid highway of the transit 
  tube and pulls up to the station 
  platform. It’s great to be a Trooper.
  Of course, that’s an ideal example of the 
  system at work. Reality has a sneaky way of 
  messing with ideal examples.
  After a long discussion with an irate 
  operator, two disconnections, many 
  threats and a busy signal, you ﬁ nally 
  get through to the motor pool. You 
  remember that the motor pool guys 
  aren’t happy about the ticket you 
  put on their illegally parked towbot, 
  but Sunny-O doesn’t sound the least 
  bit angry about your request for an 
  autocar. You switch on your tracking 
  signal and wait patiently for the vehicle 
  to arrive. And wait. And. Wait. Then 
  you hear the siren, see the ﬂ ashing 
  light and watch quietly as a towbot 
  navigates across the magnetic grid of 
  the transit tube, pulling a battered and 
  dented wreck behind it. Sunny-O sticks 
  his head out the side window, smiles 
  and says, ‘Your autocar has arrived.’
  The belt-attached homing device is a great 
  little gimmick. It calls the autocar right to 
  whatever entry station the Troopers are waiting 
  at. It also attracts bots. All kinds of bots. They 
  like to home in on the signal, too. What this 
  means is that a lot depends on which arrives 
  ﬁ rst, the bot or the autocar.
  ■ Operation
  To use an autocar, Troopers punch in the 
  destination coordinates on the dashboard 
  keypad. The Computer always supplies correct 
  coordinates for any mission it sends Troopers 
  on. Always.
  Even though they’ll never need to check the 
  coordinates, Communication Central keeps 
  coordinate information on ﬁ le. PCs can patch 
  into ComCent via any BLUE Trooper Armor’s 
  built-in com unit.
  Once the Troopers have punched in the 
  correct destination coordinates the autocar 
  begins moving along the magnetic-grid 
  highway of the transit tube. The characters 
  are always free to manually alter the speed 
  or direction of the vehicle. There is a steering 
  wheel and acceleration pedal. Whenever a 
  citizen touches either one, the car temporarily 
  goes off automatic guidance to allow the 
  citizen to pilot it. To resume autopilot operation, 
  press the ‘autopilot’ button on the dashboard. 
  Reports of autopilot system failures are grossly 
  exaggerated. Rumors are treason.
  By the way, did your PCs check to see if their 
  autocar was equipped with a forward motion 
  deceleration pedal? You know, a brake. A 
  simple 1d20 roll will determine an autocar’s 
  braking ability: 1–8, the brakes work ﬁ ne; 9–12, 
  brakes fail 50% of the time; 13–20, no brakes 
  whatsoever.
  ■ Autocar disasters
  Given that the transit tubes were designed by 
  High Programmers, installed by R&D techbots, 
  have never been maintained and do not exist, 
  they are holding up pretty well.
  But let’s face it, the transit tubes are in sad 
  shape. Some tubes end in blank walls or in 
  mid-span across residential domes. Other 
  sections are submerged. Still others are in 
  total darkness. Several tubes are so weak they 
  barely support their own weight.
  The High Programmers built the tubes wide 
  enough for ten vehicles to navigate alongside 
  each other freely—mostly. More often than not. 
  But in many places the tubes are barely wide 
  enough for one vehicle, let alone ten. Autocars 
  can certainly pass each other. Usually. As long 
  as they go slow enough. As long as they aren’t 
  in a turn. And as long as the driver’s ascending 
  planet is real close to the cusp.
  ■ Damaged autocars
  If PCs show up at the motor pool with a 
  damaged autocar, they are assessed for 
  the repairs. Roll 1d20 and divide by two. 
  The result is the amount the repairs cost. In 
  thousands of credits. Trying to get out of debt 
  is a common career goal in HIL Sector IntSec. 
  About the only way to avoid this is becoming 
  buddy-buddy with one of the mechanics—you 
  might persuade him to repair your vehicle on 
  the sly. The debts you accumulate this way 
  are sometimes worse than paying for the 
  repairs themselves. Most PCs only ﬁ nd this 
  out through trial and error.
  ■ Transit tube encounters
  With all their modern features, it’s a wonder 
  the transit tubes are used at all. But because 
  there is virtually no other way to get around 
  HIL Sector speedily, everyone is stuck using 
  them.
  So the Troopers get a call, run to their 
  autocar, jump in, punch in the destination 
  code and lean back. They’re ready for a 
  quick, effortless trip to wherever they’re going. 
  Do you think we’re gonna give it to ’em? Of 
  course not.
  You have to remember that these tubes were 
  constructed some time ago. They’ve seen a lot
  of trafﬁ c, and they never really worked right 
  anyway. And let’s not forget the players have 
  no idea what they’re doing.
  To help you use the transit tubes in your 
  game, we could give you an intricate map 
  detailing the vast tubular network. Or we could 
  even implore you to be creative with a pencil, 
  ruler and graph paper. But we won’t. Face 
  it, we’re nice guys. We wouldn’t make you 
  do all that work. And we’re much too lazy to 
  even consider doing it. No, we Famous Game 
  Designers have, naturally, come up with a 
  much better solution.
  Random encounters.
  C’mon. You know what a random encounter 
  is. You’ve all played that Other Game™. You 
  know, the one with the wandering monsters 
  who attack the characters for no apparent 
  reason? Yeah. Those random encounters.
  The basic element in most transit tube 
  encounters is the use of an attribute or skill 
  roll the driver makes in an attempt to perform 
  an action or to avoid performing an action. 
  
  89
  frightening a loyal citizen—a high-clearance 
  loyal citizen. They’ll also find themselves 
  pushing his vehicle to a recharge pump.
  If they do hit the INDIGO, his autocar bursts 
  into a ball of ﬂ ame. If you want, you can give 
  ’em about ten seconds to scramble out of their 
  vehicle before it explodes.
  Do they report it or not?
  ■ 3. Please don’t feed the bots
  As you zip along the tube, the engine 
  begins sputtering. You’re slowing 
  down. You’ve come to a halt.
  You look down and spot a little 
  glowing message hidden in the jumble 
  of buttons, switches and lights on the 
  dashboard: ‘Fuel level zero. Proceed 
  to nearest recharge depot!’
  Players can try to call for a towbot, ﬂ ag down 
  other vehicles to siphon energy or abandon the 
  autocar altogether. It is, of course, treasonous 
  to abandon valuable Computer property. If 
  they choose to walk through the tube, casually 
  mention PARANOIA does, indeed, have 
  rules governing starvation and dehydration. 
  (Not true, but players aren’t cleared to know 
  that.) And those citizen strolling paths that 
  criss-cross the tubes weren’t designed with 
  pedestrian safety in mind. Some paths cross 
  right in front of oncoming trafﬁ c. And let’s not 
  forget the ever-present power grid. Can anyone 
  say ‘roasted’?
  If you’re feeling particularly wimpy, or 
  perhaps your players seem especially pitiful 
  today, have an INDIGO limobot drive up. 
  The RED Clearance chauffeur recharges 
  the Troopers’ vehicle at the command of 
  the INDIGO, who simply wants to get to his 
  destination station.
  ■ 4. Have white cane, will 
  travel
  As your car glides smoothly along the 
  well-ﬁ t tube, you get a funny feeling. 
  Your sight dims. Sure enough, you’re 
  blind. All of you.
  Dramatic pause.
  You suddenly notice the dashboard 
  instruments are still glowing. You 
  aren’t blind after all! The lights in the 
  tube went out. What a relief! No big 
  deal.
  Sure hope nobody’s coming from the 
  opposite direction.
  It is lamentable, that to be a good patriot one 
  must become the enemy of the rest of mankind.
  It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are 
  punished unless they kill in large numbers and to 
  the sound of trumpets.
  An ideal form of government is democracy 
  tempered with assassination.
  —Voltaire
  Each encounter mentions when a skill roll is 
  appropriate. The Vehicle Ops and Maintenance 
  skill is the safest way to go. PCs without this 
  skill can use multiple Violence or Hardware 
  checks to avoid little irritating occurrences.
  Most encounter descriptions also provide 
  confrontational scenes for the PCs to 
  roleplay.
  The last encounter is fondly referred to as 
  ‘Sudden Death’. It was inspired by the actions 
  of one of our wonderful playtest groups. Pull it 
  out when your players really need a lesson in 
  player cooperation.
  ■ 1. The quick-stop pop-top 
  bot
  The tube ahead is under repair. You 
  see red temporary warning lights 
  blinking around the area, several 
  warning signs placed too close to the 
  construction site to be of any use and 
  a team of RED overall-clad citizens. 
  They are grouped around an access 
  hole in the middle of the tube. There is 
  a bot in the hole, and the citizens are 
  frantically pulling at it. The bot seems 
  to be stuck.
  The driver must make an attribute check 
  or skill roll (see ‘Transit tube encounters’) to 
  stop in time.
  If he fails, the autocar impales itself on 
  the bot—and stops dead. The eight RED 
  technicians aren’t really happy about the 
  situation, and they alI carry these wicked-
  looking laser welders (S3K energy). Of course, 
  these weapons don’t do much against Trooper 
  armor.
  If the driver stops in time perhaps the 
  Troopers will help get the bot out of the hole. 
  Then again…
  ■ 2. INDIGO, out dey come
  You spot a stalled autocar, fully 
  blocking the tube ahead. As you 
  rapidly approach, you see it is indigo-
  colored. With an INDIGO driver. He 
  turns around and sees you. You 
  can see the whites of his eyes. You 
  can also see his open mouth as he 
  screams.
  The driver must make an attribute check 
  or skill roll to prevent ramming into a loyal 
  INDIGO citizen.
  This is a potentially dangerous situation. If 
  they miss the INDIGO, they’ll be on report for 
  NO LEFT TURN. NO RIGHT TURN. NO PARKING. NO.
  BLUE
  TRANSIT TUBE ENCOUNTERS
  
  90
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  The headlights work on a verbal command, 
  ‘Turn on Headlights.’ Difﬁ cult, eh? You might 
  want them to travel with the tube lights off for 
  a few hours, or have the lights spring back on 
  after a few minutes. Which is just enough time 
  for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Glaring 
  white lights make it awfully hard to see what’s 
  just ahead in the tube.
  ■ 5. There was an old woman 
  who lived in a shoe…
  You careen around a curve in the tube 
  and see, not more than ten meters 
  in front of you, a team of repairbots 
  clustered around a VIOLET autocar. As 
  you speedily approach, you realize that 
  the bots have somehow wedged the 
  car sideways in a particularly narrow 
  section of tubing. It’s going nowhere 
  fast. There isn’t nearly enough time to 
  stop. However, as you watch the bots 
  scatter, you notice a detour just in 
  front of the whole mess. What would 
  you like to do?
  A Violence check or specialty roll is needed 
  to turn the autocar. If the driver fails, he plows 
  into the VIOLET vehicle. Go ahead. Dramatize 
  the scene. Let them sweat it out. The VIOLET 
  driver (currently sitting in the car) is the 
  Commissioner for HIL Sector Housing. Bet the 
  PCs are wondering what it’s like to sleep in the 
  corridors for the next few centuries.
  If they manage to make the turn, Nothing 
  Happens as they sideswipe the VIOLET 
  autocar. (See the ‘Nothing Happens Table’.)
  ■ 6. The long and winding 
  road
  As you purr along this stretch of tube, 
  you look down at the dashboard. The 
  destination code monitor is blinking 
  the message: ‘Please use manual 
  controls. Automatic destination 
  sensors are not operating.’
  You’ve never seen this area. You 
  don’t see any destination stations. 
  Your PDCs aren’t offering any helpful 
  information. 
  You do notice that you are traveling 
  through a narrow section of the tubes. 
  Openings branch off in all directions. 
  Wait a minute. Didn’t you pass by that 
  turn-off just a few moments ago? Of 
  course, there is nothing to worry about. 
  Nothing at all. The Computer certainly 
  would not allow its loyal citizens to be 
  lost in the middle of nowhere, traveling 
  in circles, with no possibility of ever 
  seeing home again.
  Now make 1d20 Access rolls for each 
  character, without telling them why. You might 
  want to mumble something about ‘where’s that 
  Starvation Table?’. Then casually mention that 
  a successful one of these Access rolls might 
  mean a character is inspired as to how to ﬁ nd 
  out which direction to travel in.
  If all the characters fail, you could wimp out 
  and allow them to intercept another autocar 
  whose driver can give them directions. Only 
  do this after a considerable amount of time has 
  passed. Perhaps after The Computer contacts 
  them, asking why they haven’t reported to 
  their destination. Requests for directions are 
  met with: ‘State your current location.’ Pity the 
  PCs have no idea where they are. And let’s not 
  forget the PC who brings up a troublesome 
  contradiction. Troublesome contradictions 
  and being late are two wonderful examples 
  of treason.
  ■ 7. Snorkeling for fun and 
  proﬁ t
  Just ahead the tube dips down. It’s 
  ﬁ lled with a foul black liquid. You also 
  see a left branch ahead. Would you 
  like to try for a left turn at your current 
  speed?
  If they do not make the left turn:
  There’s a tremendous splash as your 
  autocar dives into murky blackness. 
  Traveling along, you never realized 
  how many leaks your vehicle had 
  until now. Everyone will probably 
  have to hold their breath for a couple 
  of minutes if the liquid in the autocar 
  continues to rise. What is everybody 
  doing?
  There’s one hole in every revolution, large or small. And it’s one word long—
  people. No matter how big the idea is they all stand under, people are small and 
  weak and cheap and frightened. It’s people that kill every revolution.
  —Warren Ellis, Transmetropolitan
  Every revolution evaporates and leaves behind only the slime of a new 
  bureaucracy.
  —Franz Kafka
  
  91
  When you’re bored with panicky screams 
  from your players as their characters drown 
  one by one, read:
  The blackness ends. The tube slopes 
  upward again and you come splashing 
  out from the depths. Thank goodness 
  for waterproof autocars. It’s only 
  leaking a little bit now. And don’t worry 
  about the sloshing sound coming 
  from the engine compartment. Or 
  how you seem to be slowing down. 
  No problem.
  If you don’t like that ending, how about this 
  one:
  The car slows and stops. You are 
  still submerged. To your left you can 
  barely make out a dim light glowing 
  in the blackness. You can also see a 
  destination station emerging from the 
  tunnel wall. Your dashboard monitor 
  blinks: ‘You have arrived.’
  ■ 8. Joyriding
  As you turn a bend you see scrubots 
  ahead, cleaning the tunnel. Fortunately 
  they are far enough away to give you 
  time to slow down and maneuver 
  around them. Probably. You think.
  The driver must make a Violence or Vehicle 
  Ops and Maintenance roll to avoid the bots. If 
  not, the autocar takes one with it. Explain how 
  the bot is ﬂ ailing around on the hood of the 
  autocar. How scrubot screams echo through 
  the tube as it madly waves at them to stop. 
  How it totally blocks their view…
  ■ 9. Road service
  You zip through the transit tube, 
  the siren on your autocar blaring. 
  Suddenly a bright spark explodes 
  from somewhere under the hood. The 
  whine of the engine quickly trails off as 
  the vehicle comes to an abrupt—and 
  possibly ﬁ nal—stop.
  This little diversion can be a lot of fun. The 
  only way to look under the hood is to open 
  the autocar door, step out onto the grid and 
  walk to the front of the vehicle. Stepping on 
  an electromagnetic impulse grid can hurt an 
  awful lot. Troopers can walk between the grid 
  if they’re real careful (a Violence/Agility check). 
  Then a skill roll is needed to ﬁ gure out what’s 
  wrong and get the vehicle moving again. Of 
  course, they’ll need another attribute check to 
  get back across the grid and into the autocar. 
  And if they repair it and it starts moving without 
  anyone at the controls, a few rolls to dodge, 
  weave and jump into the vehicle may be in 
  order.
  ■ 10. Sudden death
  You zoom along the tube and careen 
  around a corner. The dull roar your 
  autocar makes disappears. So does 
  the tube. You ﬁ nd yourselves ﬂ oating 
  in midair—you, your gear and your 
  autocar. You begin falling. Down, 
  down, down. Between screams you 
  see the pretty buildings around you, 
  and you marvel at the maze of transit 
  tubes above you.
  Wham! Your lives pass before your 
  eyes.
  You have stopped falling. You and 
  your gear are sitting in what was once 
  an autocar. Destruction of Computer 
  property is treason.
  The results of this little escapade are left for 
  you to play with.
  ■ Reaching their 
  destination
  If you’ve properly used all these clever 
  suggestions, the Troopers reach their 
  destination a little older and grayer, but in 
  almost one piece. Or maybe they do reach 
  it in one piece. One tiny, compressed piece. 
  Hee, hee, hee.
  The wheels lock. The autocar ﬁ shtails. 
  It bucks and swerves up the side of the 
  round tube. You come to a complete 
  stop, sitting at a 45 degree angle to 
  the ﬂ oor. The autocar creaks. It turns 
  over, dropping down onto the tube 
  ﬂ oor. You are sitting upside down. 
  Your grid connectors are smoking. 
  The aroma of burnt metal nearly 
  suffocates you. About 30 meters back 
  down the tube, a destination station 
  slowly emerges from the wall. A little 
  monitor on the dashboard faintly 
  blinks: ‘You have arrived.’ You made 
  it! Congratulations!
  GO TO JAIL. GO DIRECTLY TO JAIL. NOW.
  BLUE
  MORE TRANSIT TUBE STUFF
  “Would you like to sit down or would you prefer internal injuries?”
  —Detective Mick Belker, Hill Street Blues
  If you think of yourselves as helpless and ineffectual, it is certain that you will 
  create a despotic government to be your master. The wise despot, therefore, 
  maintains among his subjects a popular sense that they are helpless and 
  ineffectual. 
  —Frank Herbert, The Dosadi Experiment
  
  92
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  ■ The Nothing Happens table
  1d20
  Result
  1–4
  There is a terriﬁ c rush of wind as an autocar/transbot passes you. You sigh with relief. You think you hear something fall off. It might have been near the back of the vehicle. 
  Naw. Probably nothing.
  5–6
  Your autocar trembles like a cowering INFRARED as a transbot/autocar wooshes by. The vibration subsides. Gee, that wasn’t too bad! You hear a slow, high-pitched scrape of 
  glass on glass. Your windshield falls in. It shatters in your lap. Possibly a minor inconvenience.
  7–10
  An autocar/transbot buffets your vehicle as it careens by. It’s gone. You hear a slow drip-drip from somewhere near your engine. Nothing to worry about. You see dark billowy 
  clouds of smoke pour from the hood of your autocar, ﬁ lling the tube with noxious vapors that slowly begin seeping into the vehicle. Don’t worry about it. Probably nothing.
  11–12
  What’s that funny noise? You know, that weird kind of—you know, that funny noise. Aww, all autocars sound that way. It’s probably nothing. (Have one character make a 
  Vehicle Ops and Maintenance roll. Whatever the result, say, ‘Oh. Never mind.’)
  13 -16
  Thump-thump. You think you just ran over something. You look back and see something lying in the tube, illuminated by your red tail lights. You’re not sure, but you think it 
  moved. Nah.
  17–18
  As another autocar slides by, your car begins weaving. It gets worse. You think you might hear the hiss of escaping air somewhere below you. It probably isn’t anything 
  important.
  19–20
  Your vehicle locks its brakes and screeches to a halt. The tires smoulder as you remove your face from the windshield. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong. There aren’t 
  any deafening alarms suggesting you neglected a minor detail on vehicle operation. And there’re no ﬂ ashing lights indicating impending inconveniences. In fact, there’s nothing 
  wrong. Nothing at all.
  ■ The Something Happens table
  Use the following table to randomly determine what occurs when two cars pass each other.
  1d20
  Result
  1–10
  Nothing happens.* (See below: ‘When Nothing Happens in PARANOIA!’)
  11–12
  Door handles sheer off. Must open the door from the inside or break (non-opening) window to gain access.
  13–14
  Several layers of paint are scraped off the side of the car, exposing huge rusty areas and sheet metal patches. The motor pool guys get real excited, and ﬁ nes are assessed.
  15–16
  The door peels off the car like the skin off a hangnail. Since autocars do not have seat restraints, characters may need to make Violence/Agility checks to avoid falling out every 
  time the autocar turns a corner.
  17–18
  Major body damage. Chunks of other vehicles may embed themselves, dragging along behind your autocar or further impeding maneuvering.
  19–20
  The autocar’s frame is pushed out of whack. Any attempt to turn the car requires a Violence check. Success means there’s no problem, the wheel turns freely. A failure means 
  the wheel gets caught in a stray piece of fender. The car turns. And turns. And turns. *Crunch* Rattle rattle. Roll roll roll. Clunk. *BOOM*
  ■ When Nothing Happens in PARANOIA
  Of course, when Nothing Happens in PARANOIA, it doesn’t mean that nothing happens. Use the following table to determine what kind of 
  Nothing happens when Nothing Happens.
  Feel free to expand on these ideas. just keep repeating to your players that, ‘Nothing is wrong. Everything is working perfectly. Honest.’
  ■ Staging ‘Nothing Happens’
  Whenever you pick up dice to roll on these tables, and your players eye you suspiciously (and the sniveling wimpy ones beg and plead), 
  be kind. Reassure them.
  Player: Whatcha’ doing?
  GM: 
  Me? Oh, nothing. No problem. Don’t worry about it. Really. [This works surprisingly well when you roll on the ﬁ rst table, get ‘Nothing 
  Happens*’ and show the table to the players.]
  GM: 
  See? Look. The table says Nothing Happens*.
  Player: Oh. Yeah, I guess—Hey! What’s that little asterisk thingie?
  GM: 
  That? Oh, nothing…
  
  93
  3: The mission itself
  This is where the main storyline comes in. It 
  can be one of the mini-missions we’ve provided 
  in this book, one of our other great supplements 
  or ideally one of your own devising.
  The recipe for HIL Sector Blues missions 
  detailed in this chapter: a Premise taken from 
  the lists of typical police roles and duties; a 
  liberal sprinkling of Complications from the 
  ‘Running gags’ section of the previous chapter, 
  and a Satisfying Resolution that entertains 
  the players with the promise of Terrific 
  Success or Farcically Tragic Disaster. 
  The Premise and Complications provide 
  game challenges the players can pit their 
  roleplaying and problem-solving talents 
  against in the unique PARANOIA setting; the 
  Satisfying Resolution presents them with a 
  chance to achieve an entertaining sense of 
  dramatic climax so they can quit having so 
  much fun and once again emerge from the 
  fantasy world into their own drab, wretched 
  lives.
  The mission storyline
  The life of an Alpha Complex policeman is just 
  like the life of real policemen, only moreso. 
  That is, no matter how unappealing the types of 
  people real policemen deal with, and no matter 
  how discouraging and futile their enterprises, it 
  can only be worse in Alpha Complex.
  Here are just a few things real policemen 
  have to deal with, and how they might ﬁ gure 
  in a BLUE Trooper’s nightmares:
  ■ Routine crimes
  1. Drugs: No matter how generous The 
  Computer is with drugs, there’s always 
  a market for more. From co-cola addicts 
  (see Send in the Clones in PARANOIA 
  Flashbacks) to Vulture Squadroniers 
  with Combat Quick habits, the drug 
  market is lucrative, violent and populated 
  by chemically induced psychotics. (See 
  the rulebook and PARANOIA STUFF for 
  a full treatment of PARANOIA drugs.)
  2. IR Market, Gray Subnet, other illicit 
  auctions: You can buy anything, 
  regardless of security clearance, on the 
  auction circuit. Free Enterprise controls 
  most of the trafﬁ c on the IR Market, but 
  many citizens freelance on the side. 
  Most popular are weapons for the more 
  lunatic of the secret societies.
  3. Theft: Where do illicit auction goods 
  come from? Harried PLC clerks 
  commonly report (or perpetrate) 
  pilferage and burglary.
  4. Assault and murder: When it can 
  be distinguished from punishing and 
  executing traitors, assault and murder 
  are vigorously investigated by The 
  Computer.
  5. Blackmail: High-clearance citizens 
  troubled by blackmail typically 
  arrange through proper channels to 
  obtain the services of discrete IntSec 
  investigators.
  6. Vandalism and sabotage: Whether 
  political (PURGE) or light-heartedly 
  anarchical (Death Leopard), vandalism 
  and sabotage of Computer property is 
  a pervasive problem.
  7. Contraband: Everybody has something 
  they shouldn’t have, and IntSec is 
  always looking for it.
  8. Vice: This crime is usually perpetrated 
  by the Humanists, Romantics and Sierra 
  JUST THE FACTS, MA’AM.
  BLUE
  CREATING A BLUE MISSION
  Club secret societies. Vice includes 
  any activities that lead to the unnatural 
  bodily functions that produce children 
  without the aid of the genetic clone 
  banks. Or such functions when used in 
  the clandestine and highly treasonous 
  activity called ‘pillow talk’.
  9. Traffic violations: Speeding, 
  high-impact parking and vehicular 
  manslaughter are just a few of the 
  most common trafﬁ c violations in Alpha 
  Complex.
  ■ Special crimes
  Certain crimes are peculiar to the distinctive 
  Alpha Complex culture:
  1. Unregistered mutation: Investigation, 
  detection and apprehension of 
  unregistered mutants requires careful 
  sifting through informal reports and 
  formal charges, and the pursuit of these 
  
  94
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  all-too-numerous criminals is often 
  extremely dangerous.
  2. Secret societies: Clandestine and 
  undercover monitoring of secret activities 
  generally precedes raids of secret society 
  meetings. Secret societies often have 
  remarkable resources at their disposal 
  and fanatic memberships who offer 
  a spirited defense, even when poorly 
  armed. The more militant and organized 
  secret societies (PURGE, Corpore 
  Metal, Free Enterprise, Communists and 
  so on) may challenge even élite IntSec 
  Special Forces units.
  3. Treason: Though technically almost all 
  human behavior falls into this category, 
  BLUE Troopers generally only handle 
  the more egregious traitors (Commie 
  rioters, corrupt executives, rebellious 
  High Programmers, etc.; citizens and 
  Troubleshooters do an admirable job in 
  handling this problem at the community 
  level.
  4. Damaging Computer property:
  A close cousin to vandalism and 
  sabotage, and as vigorously prosecuted, 
  damaging Computer property includes 
  all accidental loss or destruction of 
  valuable Computer resources, either 
  through carelessness (allowing the 
  brakes on your autocar to fail) or 
  through negligence (failing to repair the 
  malfunction of your plasma generator 
  before its catastrophic detonation wipes 
  out a couple of residence blocks).
  5. Insubordination: All citizens are 
  obligated to defer to other citizens 
  of higher security clearance. BLUE 
  Troopers must often investigate reports 
  of uncooperative ﬂ unkies.
  6. Security clearance violations: 
  INFRAREDs sauntering around in BLUE 
  Clearance corridors with cone riﬂ es are 
  sure to attract immediate attention from 
  IntSec troopers.
  ■ Typical roles and mission 
  assignments
  Here are a few common situations BLUE 
  Troopers may ﬁ nd themselves in:
  1. Walking the beat: Though generally the 
  duty of lower-status IntSec Troopers, 
  idle (or on-report) BLUE Troopers may 
  be ﬁ tted with rocket skates and sent out 
  to wander the corridors, keeping the 
  peace and afﬁ rming the ever-present will 
  of The Computer—directing autocar and 
  transbot trafﬁ c, issuing parking tickets, 
  running spot security checks, handling 
  citizen complaints and responding to 
  the occasional crime-in-progress or 
  emergency calls.
  2. On patrol: Six BLUE Troopers jammed 
  into an autocar with their full array of 
  weapons and gear is a common sight in 
  HIL Sector—always ready to give chase 
  to criminals and joyriders, or respond to 
  any disturbances at high speed.
  3. Stakeouts: Stakeout generally means 
  sitting around in some unpleasant place 
  (closet, sewer or atomic reactor core) 
  with nothing fun (i.e., no shooting) to 
  do for a long time. Not infrequently, the 
  place is not cleared for BLUE citizens. 
  For secret society stakeouts, Troopers 
  are often required to wear hideously 
  ineffective disguises. Generally an 
  unpopular assignment.
  4. Task forces: Troopers are often 
  temporarily assigned to task forces for 
  special duty requiring unusual skills 
  or concerted, long-term efforts. A few 
  examples: The High Programmer’s 
  Special Commission on Unregistered 
  Mutations; The Weird Science Police; 
  The Secret Study Group for Outdoors 
  Spy and Animal Control and the ‘Who’s 
  Your Friend?’ Task Force.
  5. Detective forces: BLUE Troopers are 
  often assigned to investigate mysteries. 
  Given the nightmarish incompetence, 
  inefficiency and paranoia rampant 
  in Alpha Complex, most mysteries 
  are pursued with a Clouseau-Pink-
  Pantherish farcical ineffectiveness. 
  (Warning!: PARANOIA is not an ideal 
  game setting to stage real clues-
  and-ratiocination mysteries. Steer 
  clear of this genre or be prepared for 
  investigators to blast most witnesses 
  and evidence rather than study them 
  for their signiﬁ cance.)
  6. Riot squad/special forces: These are 
  the élite combat troops for handling 
  internal Alpha Complex affairs. In 
  theory, IntSec handles all internal 
  affairs; the Armed Forces handles 
  dealings with the Outdoors. In practice, 
  High Programmers may call on Armed 
  Forces Vulture or BLUE Trooper Tac 
  Squads depending on where their 
  political clout is centered.
  The case against Clevinger was open and shut. The only thing missing was 
  something to charge him with.
  —Joseph Heller, Catch-22 (1961)
  
  95
  7. Escort and citizen protection: Whether 
  guarding The Computer’s favorites or 
  the lowest of Commie mutant scum, 
  BLUE Troopers often have as much to 
  fear from the potential victim as from 
  determined assailants.
  8. Trusted public servants: As symbols 
  of The Computer’s ever-present justice 
  and mercy, BLUE Troopers help old 
  citizens across transit tubes, lecture 
  on public morality and rescue catbots 
  from synthetrees. Ironically, even these 
  innocuous events are often fraught with 
  peril.
  ■ Plotting a mission
  To create a BLUE Trooper mission, survey the 
  preceding lists of BLUE Trooper duties. Pick 
  one and imagine how life in Alpha Complex 
  could hopelessly complicate the situation. This 
  is our Premise.
  For example, directing trafﬁ c—let’s presume 
  The Computer orders a squad of BLUE 
  Troopers to direct traffic at a transit tube 
  junction. The Computer fails to notify the 
  Troopers that power is out in that sector and 
  the tubes are unilluminated; therefore trafﬁ c 
  (which incidently is approaching at a sizable 
  fraction of the speed of sound) cannot see 
  the Troopers.
  Now what?
  Okay, we have a simple Premise: BLUE 
  Troopers directing trafﬁ c under impossible 
  circumstances. Now we need Complications. 
  See the chapter on ‘Running gags’ for 
  appropriate complications to make the 
  Troopers’ lives even more miserable.
  We already know the Mission Bulletin omits 
  important information—good, good. Now, the 
  Troopers have to get to the transit tube junction. 
  Let’s see—how about a malfunctioning 
  autocar? Yes, yes—how about a lobotomized 
  autopilot? And let’s roll on the Nothing Happens 
  Table. Of course.
  Okay, the Troopers get to the junction 
  and discover the lights are out. Time to 
  report. Oops—those pesky operators keep 
  disconnecting them, and when they ﬁ nally get 
  through to Power Services  —EHHNT-EHHNT-
  EHHNT—busy signal. Then a DeePolTee 
  ofﬁ cer comes on the line and wants to know 
  why you are spreading rumors about power 
  malfunctions.
  So ﬁ nally the Troopers get through to Power 
  Services (yes, yes, yes, all this time they are 
  scrambling around in the dark dodging 18-
  wheelers moving along like Imperial Battle 
  Cruisers) and report. Then along comes 
  somebody straight off the Random Passersby 
  Table, yes? You remember that, right? It was 
  towards the back of the PARANOIA rulebook. 
  Oh, yeah. Now you do. Sure you do.
  Okay, we have a Premise and Complications. 
  Now we need a Satisfying Resolution. Note, 
  not just a resolution. Killing all the Troopers is 
  plenty plausible and sure enough a resolution, 
  but it isn’t much fun for the players. And this 
  is a series, remember? Let the poor citizens 
  live. For a while.
  A Satisfying Resolution must offer the 
  players a chance for a Terriﬁ c Success or 
  a Farcically Tragic Disaster. (Because this 
  is PARANOIA, either a disaster or a success 
  may be sufﬁ ciently entertaining to give the 
  players their money’s worth. Consider that at 
  lower clearances they are entitled to a round 
  of applause if they can just get vaporized. 
  As a BLUE Trooper they should work a little 
  harder for that applause by doing something 
  spectacular—like trying to survive. Solving the 
  problem is worth a standing ovation.)
  So let’s say the Troopers stumble upon an 
  open bothole in the dark, and out of it they can 
  hear the stirring strains of the ‘Internationale’—
  the anthem of Commie saboteurs responsible 
  for the blackout. A Terriﬁ c Success has them 
  capture the Commies and deliver them to The 
  Computer. A Farcically Tragic Disaster has 
  them capture the Commies and deliver them 
  to The Computer—only to be out-bootlicked 
  by the Commies, proving conclusively that 
  the Troopers were the traitorous saboteurs 
  and resulting in their suspension from the 
  force pending Reconstructive Surgery and 
  Recombinant DNA Therapy at the Frank-O-
  RRK Recreation Center.
  Aftermath
  When you wind up the mission after your 
  Satisfying Resolution, assess the energy of the 
  play group and, if they’re still up for it, go on to 
  the Report and Evaluation stage. Remind them 
  their Troopers are Internal Security workers, 
  and hence subject to the greatest responsibility 
  of any Alpha Complex citizen: paperwork.
  ■ Filing the ofﬁ cial report
  BLUE Troopers seldom go through the rigorous 
  debrieﬁ ngs lower-clearance Troubleshooters 
  face at the end of a mission. Though longer 
  missions, special assignments or dramatic 
  disasters may require full debrieﬁ ngs, most 
  missions require no more than ﬁ ling the ofﬁ cial 
  report.
  TO SERVE AND REJECT.
  BLUE
  MISSION STAGES
  You may discover that the prospect of ﬁ lling 
  out a report on each mission causes your 
  players to tremble with anticipation. Perhaps 
  deep in each man’s heart lies the soul of a 
  clerk yearning to express itself in reams of 
  neatly inscribed minutiae. In this event, here’s 
  a chance to use that swell mission report form 
  (included in your PARANOIA GM Screen 
  booklet) that nobody ever uses anyway. 
  We also recommend you request a detailed 
  
  96
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  narrative report, accounting for each minute 
  the Troopers spent on a mission.
  (Frankly, we think this might be fun. Once. 
  Maybe. We are not about to playtest it. If it 
  works out for you, write us and tell us about 
  it.)
  Here’s a more practical way of abstracting 
  the report process. Take the helmet multicorder 
  accounts of the action as a given, unless a 
  player speciﬁ cally attempts to tamper with that 
  evidence. This in effect ﬁ les the GM’s memory 
  of the session as the mission report.
  †
  Then ask if any player wishes to amend the 
  report verbally or in writing to account for any 
  details which the multicorder might have missed 
  or misrepresented. These amendments need 
  be no more than hastily scribbled notes, and, 
  since they may include details that denounce 
  and slander other player characters, should be 
  given to the GM privately.
  Finally, ask if any player wishes to place 
  any significant interpretation on the facts 
  as demonstrated in the multicorder report. 
  This is an opportunity to place on record any 
  accusation or innuendo that might inveigh 
  against the good reputation of another 
  character. This interpretation of facts may 
  be made publicly or privately, as the player 
  prefers.
  This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes 
  for most groups, but with master Machiavellians, 
  there might be a lot of maneuvering and subtle 
  constructions on the facts (in other words, high-
  class ﬁ bbing). You may need to take notes for 
  later review on the more telling accusations 
  and evidence against player characters.
  And that ends the session. No public 
  denunciations. No wild-and-woolly shootouts. 
  No summary executions. No public 
  commendations. Instead, the event that 
  BLUE Troopers anticipate with extreme dread 
  is getting…
  ■ Called into the ofﬁ ce
  When solid evidence of treason begins to 
  mount, a Trooper may be Called Into the Ofﬁ ce. 
  The other players may not even know about it; 
  rumors may circulate, according to the whim 
  of the GM.
  This private conference between the GM and 
  player may take place before or after a session, 
  or better yet, over the phone or at some non-
  gaming meeting. In this conference the GM 
  confronts the player with the accusations and 
  evidence against his character (keeping the 
  identity of the accuser secret) and permits the 
  player to speak in his character’s defense.
  The ﬁ rst ofﬁ ce visit is generally a warning. 
  The second or subsequent visits may imply 
  demotion, ﬁ nes, suspension or assignment 
  to reactor cleaning duty unless a sufﬁ cient 
  defense is offered.
  Of course, being Called Into the Ofﬁ ce doesn’t 
  necessarily imply bad news. Sometimes 
  your superior just wants to talk, or offer 
  advice in private, or even wants to award a 
  commendation for meritorious service.
  Commendations, however, are normally 
  public affairs, complete with fanfare and 
  ofﬁ cially enthusiastic media coverage. Such 
  may be awarded impulsively at the end of 
  a session, or after due deliberation at the 
  opening of the next session. At this clearance, 
  however, both commendations and treason 
  points are assessed less frequently; superior 
  service is expected of BLUE Troopers, and 
  their past loyalty has earned them a degree 
  of trust that confers the beneﬁ t of the doubt in 
  matters of questionable activities.
  Storyline hooks
  Here are some sample Premises:
  Citizen with a gun
  The setting—Outﬁ tting, R&D or a crowded 
  commissary. The citizen—a secret society 
  fanatic, mad scientist or normal citizen who 
  accidentally received a megadose of Combat 
  Quick (asperquaint) instead of Wakey-Wakey 
  pills. The gun—the most awesome weapon 
  imaginable, preferably an R&D special, an Old 
  Reckoning artifact or a ﬁ eld weapon (missile 
  racks or tube cannon).
  Treason in progress
  This covers a wide range of sins and peccadillos: 
  a RED tech servicing an autocar in a YELLOW 
  corridor; a YELLOW Troubleshooter has 
  refused a GREEN’s orders, claiming his 
  Computer mission takes priority; two techs 
  whispering conspiratorily in the Power Services 
  Control Room—the list is endless.
  IR Market
  This could be a series of linked episodes. 
  First, the PCs investigate a robbery, where 
  the goods (weapons, drugs, R&D devices) 
  are being stolen for resale on the IR Market. 
  Second, the PCs are staked-out to observe IR 
  Market sales and to trace the customers for the 
  goods. Third, by investigating and interrogating 
  the customers, the thieves/IR Market goons 
  are revealed, charred and delivered for 
  posthumous justice.
  Warrant for traitor’s arrest
  What appears to be a simple pickup of a 
  minor misdemeanor offender (trafﬁ c violation, 
  possession of an Outdoors artifact or mopery 
  with intent to gawk) at his cubicle turns out to 
  be a full-scale tactical assault against a traitor 
  with a complete arsenal and a phalanx of 
  combat-trained scrubots. (See ‘The Trouble 
  with Cockroaches’, a PARANOIA Flashbacks
  mission, for a similar situation.)
  Raid a secret society meeting
  A stool-pigeon is obtained from the Informant’s 
  Registry who promises to deliver a Trooper 
  squad to a Communist secret society meeting 
  in progress. Surprise! The informant is a 
  double-agent, and the Troopers are being 
  set up for an ambush. Zap, bang, kaboom: 
  the PCs are hopelessly outgunned and cut 
  off from reinforcements. But miraculously, a 
  group of men in dark glasses and suits (The 
  Men in INFRARED?) show up and rescue 
  the Troopers, then disappear with a strange 
  ﬂ ash of light.
  An internal affair
  Troopers are dispatched to arrest a group of 
  traitors causing a disturbance and destroying 
  Computer property. Guess what? The traitors 
  are just a typical Troubleshooter mission group, 
  screwing up in perfectly normal fashion. Take 
  any published PARANOIA mission, any group 
  of pregenerated PCs —and imagine the kinds 
  of trouble Troubleshooters usually get into. 
  Now, send the BLUE Troopers to arrest them. 
  Of course, Troubleshooters being what they 
  are, they do not submit peacefully to arrest, but 
  try to bushwhack the Troopers. (And given the 
  kinds of R&D equipment we’ve handed out in 
  some of our published missions, it could be a 
  pretty evenly matched encounter.)
  Escort duty
  A parcel of way-too-treasonous documents 
  is bound for FAR Sector. An ever-so-guilty 
  VIOLET requests a security escort. Along 
  the way enemies of the VIOLET attempt to 
  waylay the caravan. Also a swell opportunity 
  for running gags of the autocar variety.
  † Remind players from time to time that, because of 
  technical problems, carelessness on the reviewing 
  personnel’s part and cheerful malevolence on 
  the part of traitors, saboteurs and agents of 
  The Computer, even multicorder tapes are not 
  completely reliable.  But that conveniently parallels 
  the sometimes-faulty and notoriously incomplete 
  memory of the GM. We are constantly amazed at 
  the facility with which we rationalize that sort of 
  GM fallibility in PARANOIA.
  
  97
  Sabotage in R&D
  BLUE Troopers investigate an explosion/ 
  implosion/gravitational singularity in R&D. 
  The ultimate cause is Stupid Science, but the 
  Troopers can get a commendation if they can 
  ﬁ nd some Obvious Treason. An interesting 
  exercise in framing NPCs.
  Internal inﬁ ltration
  A CPU High Programmer uses R&D high-
  tech bugs to listen in to the IntSec Ministry of 
  Information, where he discovers a conspiracy 
  to cover-up routine corruption and bribery 
  in PLC. The PCs are assigned pathetically 
  clumsy covers and profoundly transparent 
  disguises and told to infiltrate the IntSec 
  Information Bureau. 
  Through typical ‘transmission errors’, the 
  mission bulletin sends the Troopers to the 
  ofﬁ ce of the aforementioned VIOLET to do 
  their inﬁ ltrating. Add as many other convoluted 
  ﬂ ourishes as you like, because this part doesn’t 
  matter anyway. The part that matters is the 
  boys from Covert Operations who have been 
  assigned to tail and snuff the Troopers if they 
  ﬁ nd out anything. Play it as a running gun 
  battle where PCs can’t identify their opponent. 
  Sheesh, what a mess.
  Entrapment
  Undercover Troopers are issued the standard 
  inappropriate disguises and sent out to recruit 
  citizens into a non-existent secret society. 
  Surprise! The secret society really does 
  exist, the Troopers try to induct one of its 
  members and pretty soon they are in deep 
  petbot poop.
  And some other possible 
  situations:
  I Spy: Tracking down spies from the 
  Outdoors.
  Docbot on the loose: Docbot with drill press 
  programming is loose among the citizenry.
  Sabotage at the weapons plant: Can you 
  ﬁ nd the bomb before the suicidally fanatic 
  agents get you?
  Snatch the canary: Find a cooperative 
  Computer Phreak informant before the victims 
  of his volubility unleash legions of hijacked 
  Computer servants to silence him.
  Speed trap: Troopers set up a radar trap 
  along a remote section of the transit tube 
  network, and guess what they catch? A Warbot 
  425 Mark 4 piloted by a couple of joy-riding 
  Death Leopards. Now this sounds like fun!
  BADGES? WE DON’T NEED NO STINKIN’ BADGES!
  BLUE
  SAMPLE MISSION IDEAS
  It’s all so clear to me now. We must invade ourselves.
  An invasion of America by Americans will be no easy task. 
  On the one hand, we have an elite and professionally trained 
  military with experience in assaulting a dangerous enemy. 
  On the other hand, our country is defended by that same 
  military, who will no doubt prove tenacious in the defense of 
  their homeland against an equal opposing force. Who knows 
  what will happen when the armed forces of the United 
  States of America clash with themselves?
  The key to victory for both sides will lie in remaining 
  mobile. A fast-moving assault can lay claim to broad 
  stretches of America quickly, potentially breaking through 
  their own lines to roll unopposed over the heartland. On the 
  other hand, the defenders can move around constantly, such 
  that by the time they gain intelligence regarding their own 
  position, they have vanished into thin air like ghosts.
  The X-factor in this matter will be the American people, 
  who will support their troops on both offense and defense. 
  American militia groups will undoubtedly rise to add 
  ﬁ repower to the attack, while partisan underground cells 
  will shelter and provision their brave defenders.
  I am convinced this invasion would succeed. All casualties 
  would necessarily be friendly ﬁ re and collateral damage, 
  and the invading army would be highly culturally acceptable 
  to the conquered nation. I think it would only be a matter 
  of time before America successfully integrated itself into 
  itself, allowing the long rebuilding process to begin.
  When this happens, we can restructure the system however 
  we like. America is a strong supporter of democracy, so 
  perhaps democracy can be imposed upon America. Fair 
  elections could be held—unevenly at ﬁ rst, to be sure, 
  but one cannot expect to impose an entirely new way of 
  doing things overnight upon a nation unused to a fair and 
  open political process. There could be violence by those 
  Americans disenfranchised by the process, but Americans 
  must stand resolute in the face of threats by those 
  who would oppose the march of democracy, especially 
  ourselves.
  —Andy Solberg
  
  98
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  4: First blood, and then some
  A mini-mission by Ken Rolston
  [Note: Curious about the title? The original 
  1987 version of this mission parodied the 
  Sylvester Stallone movies First Blood (1982) 
  and Rambo: First Blood Part II (1985). Rafe-
  B-AEU in this mission was originally, yes, 
  Ram-B-EAU. Ah, the good old days....]
  MISSION ALERT!
  WE HAVE A CODE 50 AT THE 
  CORNER OF B-23 AND F-539 
  CORRIDORS, COORDINATES EFF-
  NINER-DASH-DEE-SIX-ONE-FIVE-
  DASH-EM-DOUBLE-FOUR. GREEN 
  CITIZEN ENTERED THIS BLUE 
  CLEARANCE AREA, DISABLED 
  THREE COMBOTS AND WAS SEEN 
  ENGAGED IN MANY TREASONOUS 
  ACTIVITIES.
  CITIZEN  ARMED AND DANGEROUS. 
  AS IF YOU COULDN’T WORK THAT 
  OUT FROM THE FACT THAT HE 
  DISABLED THREE COMBOTS.
  PROCEED TO APPREHEND THE 
  CITIZEN AND DELIVER HIM TO POW 
  SECTOR POLITICAL THERAPY AT 
  ONCE.
  Summary
  Rafe-B-AEU-3, an operative from Omega 
  Complex, has been activated from undercover 
  status to search for a missing group of INDIGO 
  agents (MlAs) from his complex. These agents 
  strayed too close to Alpha Complex and 
  were captured by a Vulture Squadron out on 
  tactical maneuvers. Rafe-B has received the 
  information that these INDIGO agents are 
  being incarcerated at POW Sector’s political 
  therapy facility. POW is a small sector that is 
  actually considered a part of the HIL. Indeed, 
  the wonderful transit tube network was built 
  around it, making it a part of this closed-off 
  area of Alpha Complex.
  A citizen has glimpsed Rafe-B strolling 
  down a BLUE corridor. Rafe-B, dressed only 
  in olive oil and khaki fatigue pants looks all 
  the world like a GREEN citizen out of his 
  security clearance. (He just likes to wear his old 
  battle duds when on a mission.) The smoking 
  remains of three combots and the bewildering 
  array of weapons dangling about his glistening 
  torso are further evidence of the threat Rafe-B 
  presents to Alpha Complex security.
  The PCs are summoned to deal with this 
  miscreant. He wanders around, shoots a 
  lot of Troopers and wades through them 
  on his way to Political Therapy, where he 
  just happened to be going anyway. What a 
  fortunate coincidence.
  When Rafe-B-AEU-3 gets to Political 
  Therapy, he looks around for his little friends 
  from Omega Complex. Without so much as a 
  by-your-leave. Folks get irritated. He kills a lot 
  of them and ruins some ofﬁ ce furniture. BLUE 
  Troopers are sent in to suppress this one-man 
  insurrection.
  Fat chance.
  Rafe-B-AEU-3
  Rafe-B-AEU-3 is Violence-skill-heavy. He 
  carries an automatic slugthrower with a wide 
  selection of ammunition types. He has lots of 
  grenades, slug pistols, knives and other more 
  personal implements of destruction dangling 
  from belts and bandoliers. He has tremendous 
  strength, endurance and agility. He is greasy 
  and inarticulate—but, then again, nobody’s 
  perfect.
  The PCs may be lulled into a false sense 
  of security by the fact that Rafe-B-AEU-3 
  is wearing no armor. Guess who has a real 
  swell, unique mutant power? Aimed weapons 
  have no effect on Rafe-B-AEU-3. Perhaps it 
  is the distracting effect his ferocity has on his 
  opponents. Area weapons always seem to miss 
  him by a hair, shattering and melting delicate 
  and expensive Computer property right behind 
  him. Just coincidence, we guess.
  Fortunately for the PCs, Rafe-B-AEU-3 is 
  less buff in the melee department, with a mere 
  Armor 2 provided courtesy of all that oil on his 
  glistening torso. All the PCs have to do is close 
  with him and batter him into submission.
  ■ GM staging hints
  The secret to presenting encounters with Rafe-
  B-AEU is choreographing combat scenes. You 
  are sitting pretty—you have only one NPC 
  to manipulate, he is virtually invulnerable to 
  aimed weapons and his combat skills are 
  so gross that elegant tactics are pretty much 
  superﬂ uous. Just improvise the details of the 
  setting, let the PCs open ﬁ re then have Rafe-
  B-AEU-3 casually begin strolling toward the 
  PCs. If he has weapons, he ﬁ res or tosses them 
  nonchalantly at the PCs. Everything the PCs 
  ﬁ re at him misses. They Begin to Worry.
  Maybe they run. Rafe-B-AEU-3 ambles 
  after them.
  Maybe they stand and melee. Rafe-B tosses 
  them around like twigs.
  Whatever the setting you improvise—a 
  corridor, an ofﬁ ce at DeePolTee, the detention 
  cells—Rafe-B just wanders around in it, tears 
  stuff up and looks invulnerable.
  The PCs just have to stick to it and ﬁ gure 
  out what his vulnerability is. Mutant powers 
  will work. Chemical weapons will work. Tricks 
  will work. (Rafe-B has NOT got high Moxie 
  skill.) Bots in sufficient number will work. 
  Melee combat will work, if the PCs attack en 
  masse, survive a few rounds, use tough melee 
  weapons and get nice dice.
  And if the Troopers push up their sleeves, 
  coat their biceps with bot oil, ﬂ ex their muscles, 
  look impassive and stroll forward into Rafe-
  B-AEU-3’s withering hail of ﬁ re, well, that’ll 
  work, too.
  Scene 1: Everything’s 
  under control here…
  Each of the three combots (see Diagram 1, 
  nearby) has been disabled by a single HE 
  round right between the visual sensors. The 
  bots’ brains are spread all over the corridor, 
  and acrid billows of black smoke trail from the 
  chassis toward the transit tube. One combot 
  has plowed into a wall, exposing power and 
  communications conduits; showers of sparks 
  are shooting into the corridor, threatening to 
  ignite the volatile fuels leaking from the bots. 
  The regular lighting is out; emergency lights 
  dimly illuminate the corridor.
  As the PCs proceed up Corridor B-23 from 
  the transit tube destination station, over the 
  buzz and crackle of the short-circuiting power 
  lines they can hear the sounds of Rafe-B-EAU 
  methodically working inside an inspection 
  panel, trying to tap into a com line. Rafe-B’s 
  back is to the PCs, and he is so intent at his 
  task that he doesn’t hear them approach 
  (unless they charge howling up the corridor, 
  of course). Rafe-B is new to this sector and 
  doesn’t know the way to POW Sector, the 
  location of the Department of Political Therapy 
  where those he is supposed to rescue are 
  supposed to be held. By tapping into the com 
  lines he hopes to get directions (pretty naïve, 
  given the trouble Troopers have getting that 
  sort of information).
  The PCs may initiate their contact with him by 
  clearing their throats to get his attention, then 
  
  99
  politely suggesting that he come along quietly 
  to the Department of Political Therapy. He is 
  only too happy to oblige—even surrendering 
  his weapons, if requested, so conﬁ dent is he of 
  his hand-to-hand prowess. ‘Sure. Where’re we 
  goin’? DeePolTee? Sure. Here, can you hold 
  my grenade launcher a sec while I tidy up?’
  Of course, such deferential behavior on 
  the part of Troopers unnerved by the sight of 
  three burning combots is somewhat unlikely. 
  The temptation to use tanglers or needle guns 
  or more disruptive devices while the subject’s 
  back is turned is likely to be too tempting to 
  even the most paciﬁ stic paranoid. We’re betting 
  their opening gambit involves gunplay, and that 
  means a madcap bloodbath, sure ’nuff.
  It is possible that the PCs survive the initial 
  shock of discovering aimed weapons to be 
  ineffective. It is possible that they are able to 
  close with him without being cut down by his 
  weapons ﬁ re. It is possible that, with melee 
  combat, mutant powers or neat experimental 
  stuff, they subdue Rafe-B-AEU-3 and take 
  him to DeePolTee as directed. But don’t hold 
  your breath.
  The PCs’ ﬁ rst volley misses Rafe-B. Rafe-B 
  half-turns, peering curiously at the intruders, 
  then casually sprays a burst at the PCs 
  (see the PARANOIA rulebook, chapter  24, 
  ‘Combat’), one-handing the massive slug riﬂ e 
  like a target pistol, while he continues working 
  on the com lines.
  Though the following volleys also miss 
  Rafe-B, they do succeed in tearing up the 
  com lines he’s working on. He realizes that 
  he won’t be able to get anything done with 
  all this distracting noise, shakes his head in 
  annoyance and turns to deal with the PCs. 
  He saunters toward them, casually spraying 
  them with the slugthrower. Make a big point 
  of ﬁ guring out Rafe-B’s chance to hit with a 
  spray weapon so the PCs learn about his 
  overwhelming chance to hit. ‘Hmm. Three 
  targets, margin of [speak loudly] 25, divide by 
  the number of targets—hmm, looks bad for 
  our heroes.’
  As he approaches the PCs, he notices the 
  autocar in the transit tube destination station 
  (or decides to head for the transit tube anyway, 
  if the autocar isn’t conveniently in sight). He 
  heads for the autocar. He sprays any PCs 
  that bar the way. Or if he comes within melee 
  distance, he disdainfully disarms the PCs and 
  sends them sailing around the place like mooks 
  in a kung fu movie.
  If he reaches the autocar before the PCs, he 
  gets in and zooms off looking for his buddies. 
  Go to the next scene.
  If the PCs get to the autocar ﬁ rst, he blasts 
  it with the grenade launcher, shattering the 
  engine and leaving the PCs as infantry. He 
  then ambles down the transit tube pedestrian 
  walkway in search of DeePolTee. If the PCs 
  pursue, he keeps them at a respectful distance 
  with the slugthrower, then disappears into a 
  ventilation duct.
  Scene 2: The Department of 
  Political Therapy
  Scene 2 takes place at the POW Sector 
  Department of Political Therapy (see Diagram 
  2 for the layout). As the PCs are informed about 
  the rooms, either by visit or report, scatter a few 
  Random Passersby in the ofﬁ ces, reception 
  area and detention blocks. (You remember 
  where to ﬁ nd the Random Passersby Table 
  this time, right? Right?) The ORANGE guards 
  begin in the guardroom, but end up running 
  around a lot. The captives from Omega 
  Complex are also in the detention block, but 
  they should appear to be random passersby at 
  ﬁ rst glance. Rafe-B-AEU-3 may arrive here by 
  scrambling around in ventilation ducts, or he 
  may arrive in the custody of the PCs.
  ■ The reception room
  If the PCs have him in custody, when he sees 
  the sign ‘Department of Political Therapy’ in the 
  reception area, Rafe-B explodes into action, 
  tossing PCs through walls and upending 
  desks.
  If he arrives there under his own power, he 
  politely inquires of the reception clerk after his 
  colleagues from Omega Complex, expressing 
  an interest in a brief visit with them. The 
  contrast between his courteous manner and 
  his fearsome appearance gives the clerks 
  pause. 
  They stall while pressing a secret alarm which 
  alerts IntSec Central; the PCs are summoned, 
  and uncharacteristically they are delivered 
  without delay by a miraculously and temporarily 
  efﬁ cient transit tube system. The moment the 
  PCs enter from the destination station platform, 
  Rafe-B realizes that the Emily Post approach 
  has failed, and cheerfully swings into the 
  mainstay of his idiom—unrestrained violence, 
  irrepressible energy and indiscriminate 
  automatic weapons ﬁ re.
  When Rafe-B assumes his more direct 
  confrontational style, he strides purposefully 
  about, opening doors and shouting, ‘Hey, the 
  guy from Omega Complex is here to rescue 
  you. Yoo-hoo. Anybody need rescuing?’ After 
  peering disappointedly in the ﬂ anking ofﬁ ces 
  and ﬁ ring a few bursts of automatic weapons 
  ﬁ re at the squealing clerks and bureaucrats, 
  he discovers the guardroom.
  ■ The guardroom
  Here two ORANGE IntSec guards, in one-
  size-ﬁ ts-all Kevlar, point unsteady laser riﬂ es 
  at Rafe-B-AEU. The din in the adjoining room 
  unnerves them, and in ﬁ nest comedy tradition 
  they flee the grim visage of the imposing 
  one-man guerrilla assault. Henceforth these 
  cravens continue to squeal hysterical, self-
  evident reports into the PCs’ helmet com units: 
  ‘Help! Help! We’re under assault by an armed 
  traitor!’ ‘Help! Help! There’s an armed traitor 
  chasing us around in here! Help! Help!’
  The PCs can query these terriﬁ ed ORANGEs 
  about the layout of the place, the residents of 
  Inspection 
  panel
  Destination 
  station
  Corridor F-539
  Corridor B-23
  Autocar
  Transit 
  tube
  Diagram
  1
  The Intersection 
  (First Blood, and Then 
  Some)
  Rafe-B-AEU
  Damaged combots
  BOOK ‘EM, DAN-O.
  FIRST BLOOD
  BLUE
  
  100
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  the detention blocks or other related matters, 
  but in general these guys are simply GM 
  resources for annoying the players.
  ■ The interrogation lab
  Rafe-B-AEU peeks into the interrogation lab, 
  looses off a few rounds then moves on.
  For those of you who are curious about 
  this room, in the center is a dentist’s chair 
  surrounded by a bewildering array of things 
  that look like electronic testing equipment, arc 
  welders and carpentry tools. From the ceiling 
  hangs a tangle of cables, each ending in 
  some sinister-looking appliance that might be 
  used to probe into body cavities, drill through 
  steel or strip paint from antique furniture. 
  The chair is mounted on a concrete apron, 
  dotted with shower drains. Along the walls are 
  banks of instruments, X-ray, ﬂ uoroscope and 
  vidscreens, pharmaceutical dispensary and 
  gardening implements.
  There. Now your players know more than 
  they want to know about the interrogation lab. 
  Shoot, we know more than we want to know.
  ■ The detention block
  The detention block (like typical jail cells) is 
  ﬁ lled with the scum of HIL Sector—Commie 
  mutant traitor scum—in fact, a cross-section 
  of average HIL Sector citizens. POW Sector is 
  nothing more than the HIL Sector prison.
  When Rafe-B-AEU pokes his head into the 
  detention block, he is greeted by a chorus 
  of cheery voices—‘Hooray!’ ‘Here we are, 
  old man!’ ‘Jolly good show!’ (To distinguish 
  the captured citizens of Omega Complex as 
  foreigners, we have chosen to characterize 
  them as upper-class English twits. It will do you 
  no good to protest the illogic of this decision. It 
  sounds like fun to us, and we WFGDs are used 
  to getting our own way around here.)
  Rafe-B steps conﬁ dently into the detention 
  block, aims his slugthrower at the lock and 
  pulls the trigger. *Click* Out of ammo. (Pssst! 
  Hey, players! Pssst! Out of Ammo.) Rafe-B 
  searches his bandoliers, his pockets, his Star 
  Wars lunchbox (sorry we neglected to mention 
  that before—an unforgivable oversight). No 
  more rounds. He takes his last grenade, tells 
  the twits to stand back from the door, yanks 
  the pin and blows the cell door off.
  Out scamper the Omega twits, sporting 
  bowlers and umbrellas. Think Monty Python 
  with a healthy seasoning of P.G. Wodehouse, 
  Jerry Lewis and the Three Stooges. Let them 
  prance about a bit. Some of them hang on 
  Rafe-B-AEU affectionately, enthusiastically 
  expressing their gratitude.
  Rafe-B reﬂ ects. He is clearly disappointed at 
  the quality of the characters he has rescued. 
  He is Out of Ammunition. Completely. He 
  considers abandoning them. He considers 
  executing them for Unheroic Stature.
  ■ So what have the PCs 
  been doing all this time?
  Face it. Initially there isn’t much the PCs can 
  do that will work. And it is really dangerous 
  to expose themselves to Rafe-B’s deadly 
  marksmanship.
  They will probably come up with a couple 
  of good ideas that will conclusively solve the 
  problem. Generally the consequences will also 
  require relocating the DeePolTee ofﬁ ces—for 
  example, collapsing the ceiling on Rafe-B, 
  using tacnukes or plasma generators, using 
  human wave tactics with INFRAREDs or 
  bots, shutting down the ventilation systems, 
  sealing all exits with explosives and so on. 
  The Computer and the Troopers’ superiors will 
  discourage such ultimate solutions, insisting 
  that the Troopers ought to be able to handle a 
  single unarmored traitor.
  So what else can they do? As we said above, 
  they can get clever, using mutant powers, R&D 
  resources or devious tricks to delay or trap 
  Rafe-B-AEU. These brilliant plans require your 
  brilliant improvisational response, as usual. 
  The degree of success of any plan should 
  reﬂ ect your reluctance to end the mission. After 
  all, it would be a real shame if the PCs didn’t 
  get a look at the English upper-class twits from 
  Omega Complex.
  However, when Rafe-B runs out of ammo 
  and he realizes the guys he has been sent to 
  rescue are terminally dopey, we’ve reached 
  the crucial apex of the rising action. Hereafter, 
  Rafe-B’s fortunes begin to decline, and the PCs 
  once more gain the upper hand.
  Rafe-B-AEU, his morale broken, no longer 
  struts confidently about and tosses PCs 
  around with gusto. He is impervious to aimed 
  weapons, but his charges aren’t. The PCs can 
  pick them off like sitting ducks. He is stuck with 
  the unmanageable problem of protecting the 
  twits as he helps them escape.
  Make sure this dramatic turn of events is 
  graphically clear to the PCs. Emphasize the 
  exhausted ammunition, the scampering idiots 
  beleaguering Rafe-B, his hang-dog expression. 
  At this point, several strategies will produce a 
  satisfying conclusion:
  � The PCs rush Rafe-B and overcome him 
  in melee. Rafe-B ﬁ ghts desperately but 
  ineffectively, distracted by the annoying 
  twits.
  � The PCs launch an assault on the twits. 
  Once the twits are butchered, Rafe-B 
  has no further mission, and he can 
  concentrate on trying to escape. Maybe 
  the PCs overcome him; maybe he barely 
  escapes into a ventilation duct.
  If the twits are gassed or stunned 
  or the like, Rafe-B is forced to carry 
  them as he tries to escape, a telling 
  disadvantage in melee combat. (Can 
  you say ‘encumbered’?)
  Diagram
  2
  Department of Political Therapy
  (First Blood, and Then Some)
  Detention
  block
  ORANGE Clearance
  IntSec guardroom
  Ofﬁ ces
  Reception
  Interrogation lab
  
  101
  � Rafe-B, after listening to some stirring 
  speech or slyly treacherous fast talk, 
  despondently surrenders or is tricked 
  into lowering his guard long enough for 
  the PCs to overcome him.
  In any event, make Rafe-B-AEU’s defeat or 
  exit suitable to his heroic stature. His spirit is 
  broken, but the fault lies not in him but in the 
  dolts he is supposed to rescue.
  A classic ending leaves the twits in the 
  PCs’ hands, dead or alive, thus foiling the 
  treasonous jailbreak and earning the PCs 
  a commendation, but has Rafe-B-AEU, 
  desperate, wounded and exhausted, just 
  managing to ﬁ ght his way to the transit tubes, 
  where he disappears into a ventilation duct or 
  commandeers a passing transbot and makes 
  his escape. This sets up the inevitable sequels 
  (Second Blood, More Blood, Vatloads of Blood 
  and so on), or cameo appearances in other 
  action-packed PARANOIA missions.
  The Computer’s gratitude
  If the PCs kill or capture Rafe-B-AEU, it’s 
  worth a bonus of a month’s salary—more if 
  the circumstances are particularly heroic or 
  ingenious. If the PCs survive the encounter 
  without disgracing themselves and manage to 
  foil the jailbreak of the Omegan prisoners, it’s 
  worth an Ofﬁ cial Commendation, even if Rafe-
  B-AEU escapes. In reviewing the reports, The 
  Computer recognizes the extraordinary nature 
  of Rafe-B-AEU-3 and makes allowances for 
  failure.
  If, however, Rafe-B tears up a lot of Computer 
  property, then gets away with the Omega 
  boys, or if the PCs are cowardly in refusing 
  to confront him, then treason charges and/or 
  ﬁ nes for damage are in order.
  5: IntSec agents at the Earth’s core
  A mini-mission by Ken Rolston
  MISSION ALERT!
  CODE 33, ARMED CITIZEN CREATING 
  A DISTURBANCE IN HIL SECTOR 
  POWER SERVICES BUREAU OFFICES. 
  RESPOND AT ONCE. SUBDUE 
  CITIZEN. CITIZEN IS NOT TO BE 
  HARMED. REPEAT! CITIZEN IS NOT 
  TO BE HARMED.
  CITIZEN IDENTIFIES HIMSELF AS 
  Tony-I-LLI-6, HEAD OF HIL SECTOR 
  R&D’S EXPERIMENTAL PHYSICS 
  DEPARTMENT. RECOMMEND COM 
  LINK CONFERENCE WITH NEWMAN-
  R-NOI-3, Tony-I’S SUBORDINATE.
  SUBJECT ALLEGES POWER 
  SERVICES HAS TREASONOUSLY 
  DENIED R&D ACCESS TO POWER 
  RESOURCES. RECOMMEND COM 
  LINK CONFERENCE WITH POWER 
  SERVICES COMPLAINT BUREAU TO 
  CONFIRM.
  Summary
  Tony-I-LLI-6, an INDIGO Clearance R&D 
  genius deep in debt and on the verge of 
  erasure, has gone to register a complaint 
  against Power Services for power interruptions 
  that are ruining his experiments. He has gone 
  armed—R&D style. His already none-too-
  tranquil temper has been fanned to ﬂ ashpoint 
  by the ever-cooperative and solicitous staff of 
  the Power Services complaint department.
  After incinerating a few ofﬁ ces full of low-
  clearance bureaucrats, Tony-I has holed up in 
  Power Engineering with a dozen mid-clearance 
  hostages and the power control monitoring 
  systems for HIL Sector. Among Tony-I’s 
  complaints is that Power Services would never 
  deliver the power he requested in sufﬁ cient 
  quantities to really test the capacities of his 
  experimental device. Now he intends to test 
  his device’s true potential; he has diverted 
  all of HIL Sector’s power to his experimental 
  Gravity Potential Ampliﬁ er. According to an 
  alarmed colleague in R&D, this device may be 
  sufﬁ cient to establish intimate communication 
  with the Earth’s core.
  The PCs should prevent Tony-I from further 
  devastating Power Services’ staff, from 
  obliterating the sector’s Power Engineering 
  facilities, and from setting off a chain reaction 
  that could end Life As We Know It on Spaceship 
  Earth.
  They also should avoid damaging a weapon 
  capable of all this mischief (or the designer of 
  said weapon). Armed Forces is real interested. 
  (‘Oh, boy! KaBOOM!’) R&D is real interested. 
  (‘Oh, boy! Big budget!’) The MAD Sector 
  Science Network is real interested. (‘Wow! 
  Whatta concept!’) They’ve all made The 
  Computer real interested. That means the 
  Troopers should be real interested too.
  Checking with R&D
  Newman-R-NOI-3 is Tony-I-LLI-6’s step-
  and-fetch-it. He’s a little nerdy guy from PLC 
  assigned as a clerical assistant to R&D. He 
  has a squeaky, whining voice and doesn’t like 
  Tony-I or R&D very much, though he’s just 
  barely smart enough not to say so.
  He thinks Tony-I is completely incompetent, 
  and constantly dismisses any hint of real 
  danger:
  ‘Oh, none of his projects are very 
  important. I think he’s working on some 
  gravity thing, you know, but he’s never 
  been able to test it. Power Services just 
  laughs in his face when he sends them 
  those, you know… requisition forms. 
  Oh, I’m sure he’s quite brilliant, sure, 
  or The Computer would never have 
  approved his VIOLET Clearance, but… 
  you know. Some of these R&D guys 
  are so—you know—impractical.’
  ■ Checking with Power 
  Services Complaint 
  Bureau
  Tony-I and his techbot horde currently have 
  Power Services Complaint Bureau under 
  seige. Secure behind 40-centimeter blast 
  doors, Complaint Bureau staffers are still pretty 
  surly. They speak in nasal, unpleasant tones, 
  and they seem remarkably unimpressed by the 
  BLUE Troopers and IntSec in general.
  ‘Yes, Citizen Tony-I did register a 
  complaint… Yes, I believe he did 
  file a number of form twenty-three 
  dash eff-eff-one-seven-niner-dash 
  ten-eleven’s… No, I’m sorry, we can’t 
  discuss the nature of the complaint 
  over the PDC… I’m afraid you’ll have 
  to come down to Power Services and 
  discuss it with our service manager… 
  Yes, we’re quite busy right now—a 
  little disturbance out in the control 
  room, I believe— but if you come 
  right down, I’m sure we can help you.’ 
  [Click.]
  YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT. OR ELSE.
  BLUE
  EARTH’S CORE
  
  102
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  ■ Tony-I-LLI-6
  Tony-I-LLI-6 is a bespectacled, frantic, frizzy-
  haired, wild-eyed maniac of the Gene-Wilder-
  Young-Frankenstein variety. He has slipped 
  his trolleybot, so to speak. When talking as 
  Tony-I, tilt your head back, peer at your players 
  wide-eyed along your cheeks and nose, open 
  your jaws wide and rock your head to and fro 
  in time to your ravings. Wiggle your ﬁ ngers in 
  the air from time to time.
  When challenged, rave about the irresponsible 
  interference of Power Services with your very 
  important research. ‘How can I do my research 
  with all these interruptions!?’ He waves 
  sheaves of ﬁ lled-out, processed and ignored 
  Power Services complaint forms— ‘See? They 
  are irresponsible! I stand in line for hours, and 
  they give me another form, then I stand in line 
  for more hours and see a person who sends 
  me back for more forms…’
  When coaxed and cajoled by solicitous 
  Troopers (who are probably sneaking up to 
  bash his head in) Tony-I is self-righteous, 
  indignant and distrustful. ‘No, someone must 
  pay for this indignity! Why should I trust you? 
  You’re as bad as the rest of them! I’ll do it 
  My Way!’
  ■ The setting
  Around the room are a number of monitoring 
  and engineering stations. Large wraparound 
  dispIays, controI-consoIes and computer 
  monitor and keyboard panels let the chief 
  power techs keep an eye on HIL Sector’s 
  ever-ﬂ uctuating power needs.
  ■ The corridors and techbot 
  guards
  Tony-I-LLI-6 has brought along an honor 
  guard of R&D techbots armed with various 
  R&D goodies. He has stationed a techbot at 
  each of the corridors leading from the control 
  room and has two with him on the platform 
  where he holds the gravity potential ampliﬁ er. 
  The techbots of course have no combat 
  programming, but with their particular type 
  of weapons, the issue of marksmanship is 
  academic.
  The techbots have been ordered to announce 
  all visitors to Tony-I. No one is to enter the 
  control room or any other corridors without 
  Tony-I’s approval. A good line of fast talk (Con 
  Games skill) gets the PCs past these techbots; 
  they are none too bright or aggressive. Tony-I 
  approves any visitors who come with relatively 
  benign intentions. A nice line of hooey is real 
  effective here. (‘We came to investigate a 
  complaint against Power Services.’ ‘IntSec 
  sent us as observers for an R&D test—this is 
  the place, isn’t it?’)
  ■ The entrance
  A 100 foot long tunnel leads from the transit 
  tube destination station to an open iris at the 
  southeast corner of the lower level. The PCs 
  may only enter the control room through this 
  entrance; the other corridors are not accessible 
  via transit tube.
  A techbot armed with a half-ton industrial 
  table laser (W2K energy) stands in the open 
  iris. A thick power cable leads from the table 
  laser back into a panel in the Power Services 
  control room.
  Next to the techbot is a scrubot drafted into 
  Tony-I’s service. It grips an experimental force 
  sword (S3K energy) between two scrub-brush 
  attachments.
  The scrubot is unhappy about this situation, 
  and is constantly trying to slip away and scrub 
  the corridor ﬂ oor and walls. This is not a matter 
  of overriding programming; the scrubot knows 
  this is currently a very unhealthy place to be, 
  and it is eager to be somewhere else. Right 
  now. But the techbot keeps catching it, yanking 
  it back and reminding it the INDIGO gentleman 
  ordered it to guard the corridor.
  If the diplomatic situation starts to deteriorate, 
  the scrubot urgently tries to surrender to the 
  PCs before hostilities begin.
  Incidentally, the scrubot happens to belong 
  to Corpore Metal and has had its asimov 
  circuits removed, but it is trying not to blow 
  its cover by appearing more or less normally 
  obedient. 
  ■ Clerical and 
  administrative corridor
  To the southwest are clerical and administrative 
  ofﬁ ces. Smoke and fumes still emanate from 
  between two shattered bulkheads leading to 
  this corridor. A techbot with a smoking plasma 
  generator (V1V energy) stands guarding this 
  corridor.
  Tony-I sent the techbot down this corridor 
  to the Complaint Department. Frustrated by 
  40-centimeter blast doors (the Complaint 
  Department is accustomed to visits from irate 
  customers), the bot sprayed a few offices 
  with the plasma generator and returned to 
  stand guard.
  ■ The generators corridor
  To the northwest are the reactors and 
  generating plants. Enormous blast doors 
  automatically sealed this corridor when Tony-I 
  tripped the security programs while tampering 
  with the power master control board. A techbot 
  with a neat widget stands guard at these 
  doors.
  ■ Neat widget
  This techbot is armed with an experimental 
  X-ray laser that looks like a little cement 
  mixer—you know, the kind on a wheeled cart 
  that looks like a tapered barrel. For maximum 
  terror effect, the barrel is brightly labeled in 
  ﬂ uorescent letters— ‘Warning! X-ray Laser. 
  Turn off all com units and PDCs when working 
  in the vicinity of this device.’
  The X-ray laser is powered by a strong 
  force capacitor housed in a heavy backpack. 
  Diagram
  3
  Power Services
  Engineering Department
  (IntSec agents at the Earth’s core)
  Ladder
  Shattered 
  doors
  To staff 
  ofﬁ ce
  Intact blast 
  doors
  To Complaint 
  Department
  �
  �
  To 
  generators
  �
  Armed techbot
  Armed techbots
  Tony-V-LLI
  Engineering 
  station 
  (console)
  Hostages
  Power Services 
  control panel 
  (console)
  Shattered 
  bulkheads
  Armed scrubot
  
  103
  Pulse high-energy lasers in the barrel cause 
  the tritium pellets to fuse in a magnetic bottle, 
  releasing an unimaginably powerful beam of 
  energy from the mouth of the barrel.
  That is, of course, if the experimental device 
  works.
  Relax. The capacitor emits a ﬂ oor-shuddering 
  low-frequency hum, building to crescendo. 
  There is a big clap of thunder, a ﬂ ash from the 
  barrel (like a misﬁ ring ﬂ ashcube) and a strong 
  smell of ionized air. That’s all. No big problem. 
  Tony-I expresses mild disappointment. He 
  didn’t expect it to work, anyway—never did 
  in the lab.
  Maybe you want to have this device sputter 
  inconclusively if the PCs try to use their com 
  units or PDCs in the room.
  Or maybe you want this device to work. K1V 
  energy, 20m area, seems right to us. If this 
  is the case, metal becomes suitable for use 
  as a beverage in this area. Real big ﬁ nes for 
  damaging Computer property are in order.
  ■ The staff ofﬁ ces
  To the northeast are staff offices. A thin, 
  white cloud of gas seeps along the ﬂ oor from 
  between the shattered doors. A techbot holding 
  several unfamiliar canisters guards this door. 
  A lot of hysterical screaming comes from this 
  corridor.
  The canisters contain a potent hallucinogen 
  that causes the brain to scramble all incoming 
  sensory data. The effect is something like that 
  suffered by a concert cellist with a monumental 
  hangover listening to acid rock at high volume 
  on a portable music player while covered 
  with ﬂ aming napalm and falling 6,100 meters 
  without a parachute.
  Now you understand all the screaming.
  ■ Madman at the switch
  Tony-I has gathered his hostages, disarmed 
  them, tied them up and stacked them like 
  cordwood in front of the engineering station on 
  the upper-level platform in the northeast corner 
  of the room. Two techbots armed with gluon 
  packs guard the prisoners and, incidentally, 
  function as Tony-I’s bodyguards.
  Gluon packs are high-tech backpack nuclear 
  accelerators. They snafu the target. They also 
  destroy any electronic gear and cause clothing 
  to smoulder and other neat stuff.
  Tony-I has taken over the engineering station 
  on this platform; from this console he controls 
  all the power in HIL Sector. He has removed 
  an inspection panel next to the console and 
  patched his device directly into the main power 
  cable. He proudly claims to be able to divert 
  all of HIL Sector’s power into his experimental 
  device. The thickness of the cable leading 
  to the device tends to lend credence to his 
  boast. His ﬁ nger is on the trigger, and his 
  ﬁ nger is itchy.
  Gaming fun
  The problem is ﬁ guring out how to render 
  Tony-I harmless, take him into custody and 
  recover the weapon undamaged. It would 
  be nice to save the lives of the hostages, 
  preserve the Power Services Engineering 
  department and avoid releasing the contents 
  of the Earth’s core.
  ■ Bang, bang
  Here’s a bad idea.
  The PCs could ignore their orders and drill 
  him on the spot. So they can’t get a clear shot 
  at him because the techbots are in the way. It’s 
  a tricky shot at this range anyway. So they’ve 
  been speciﬁ cally ordered not to harm citizens. 
  Big deal. If they get lucky and down Tony-I with 
  the ﬁ rst shot, they can keep him from blowing 
  up everything and everyone.
  Otherwise he ﬁ res the weapon.
  Maybe the weapon doesn’t work so well at 
  full power. Maybe only the hostages, Tony-I 
  and a few lucky PCs get killed. Power Services 
  is destroyed. Power is out for two weeks. HIL 
  Sector must be evacuated. Surviving PCs wish 
  they were killed, too.
  Maybe the weapon does work. Activate Terra 
  2. Or dust off the orcs and elves.
  ■ Think, think
  Here are some good ideas:
  � Request support from Armed Forces 
  specialists with chemical weapons 
  (sleep gas).
  � Cut off power to the Engineering 
  room (get technical support from Tech 
  Services; then sneak in, posing as air 
  conditioning repairmen or some such).
  � Call up Mutants’ Registry and request 
  a mutant with an appropriate power 
  (Charm, etc).
  � Reason with Tony-I (‘If your device 
  works, you won’t be able to write up 
  your experiment in The Journal of Big 
  Explosions’).
  � Disguise a PC as a scrubot and send 
  him in to polish the metalwork on Tony-
  I’s device. Yeah, good luck with that.
  Less ingenious players (or players with 
  ﬁ endish GMs) may have to make decisions 
  about the priority of various objectives. For 
  example, killing Tony-I is bad, but letting him 
  blow up the hostages, Power Services and his 
  super weapon is far worse. In debrieﬁ ng you’ll 
  have to weigh how persuasively they defend 
  their actions.
  Staging hints
  Give the PCs no information—other than what 
  they can pry out of R&D and the Complaint 
  Bureau—until they arrive at the scene. (The 
  Computer is keeping a lid on this incident.) 
  When they arrive, describe the situation and let 
  them talk to Tony-I. Then let them brainstorm 
  some solutions.
  Rookies probably try to solve the problem on 
  their own—bad idea, because they are used to 
  shooting a lot, and shooting is risky and unlikely 
  to work in this situation.
  More experienced Troopers try to get some 
  help from specialists. Let them talk to Tony-I’s 
  colleagues back at R&D Central; they may 
  have some idea how the device works, or 
  whether it works at all—it’s up to you.
  Tony-I is an impulsive loony. He’ll ﬁ re the 
  weapon in the round immediately following any 
  provocative PC action. Don’t give the PCs a 
  second chance.
  And what does the weapon look like? What 
  does it do? Look around the house for some 
  object with a power cord—a ﬂ oor lamp, table 
  radio, vacuum cleaner, portable drill, television, 
  toaster oven. Imagine it as an unimaginably 
  powerful weapon. Pick something to be the 
  trigger. Pick something else to be the point 
  out of which ravening energies will pour forth 
  when you touch the trigger.
  Plug the object into a wall outlet, set it in your 
  lap and tell your players this is what the weapon 
  looks like. Put your ﬁ nger on the trigger. Act 
  crazy, and think about burning a hole in your 
  living room rug, all the way down to the Earth’s 
  core. Cackle a lot. It may give your players 
  clever ideas, like using area weapons for a 
  sure hit on the power cord.
  The Computer’s gratitude
  This difficult mission is worth an Official 
  Commendation and a healthy bonus if the 
  PCs save Tony-I, his weapon, the hostages, 
  TERMINATION VOUCHERS AVAILABLE CHEAP.
  BLUE
  EARTH’S CORE AND ALL THAT
  
  104
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Power Services, Alpha Complex and the planet 
  Earth. (If this seems a bit niggardly for saving 
  Earth, toss in a couple of tickets to the BLUE 
  Troopers’ Ball or a plaque or something.) If they 
  kill Tony-I, but save everything else, they get no 
  bonus. Other varying degrees of failure result in 
  New name
  Pun name
  Beth-V-DEE-3
  Bea-V-DEE-3
  Biff-G-OFB-3
  Biff-G-BOF-3
  Brett-I-HIL-6
  Ben-I-HIL-6
  Candy-Y-DAN-2
  Cagne-Y-AND-1
  Charles-B-NSD-4
  Charles-B-RSN-4
  Cinco-Y-RRR-1
  Stanl-Y-LRL-1
  Cody-V-TRE-2
  Coe-V-ERT-2
  Dirk-Y-RYH-5
  Dirt-Y-HRY-5
  Flynn-I-MMA-2
  Fluffy-I-AMM-2
  Frank-I-OLL-5
  Fur-I-LLO-5
  Frank-O-RRK (Memorial 
  Recreation Center)
  Franzk-O-FKA (Memorial 
  Recreation Center)
  Hank-G-NMA-1
  Hank-G-MAN-1
  Herm-G-ELW-5
  Herbert-G-WEL-5
  Ian-O-YKA-4
  Iam-O-KAY-4
  Julius-V-NRE-5
  Jules-V-ERN-5
  Larissa-Y-DAN-2
  Lace-Y-AND-2
  Mabel-B-EEE-6
  Ma-B-ELL-3
  Martie-I-OLG-2
  Mutie-I-GLO-2
  Mitch-V-CEI-2
  Miami-V-ICE-2
  Newman-R-NOI-3
  Newt-R-INO-3
  Noam-I-TNO-6
  No-I-NOT-6
  Omega Complex
  Oedipus Complex
  Oprah-I-NSO-3
  Operash-I-ONS-3
  Oswald-Y-DDH-6
  Oll-Y-HRD-6
  Pip-G-NEO-4
  Pid-G-EON-4
  Preston-O-XEX-2
  Profess-O-EXX-2
  Rafe-B-AEU-3
  Ram-B-EAU-3
  Rocky-B-MBO-1
  Rocky-B-BOA-1
  Sammie-O-OXD-4
  Sun-O-CCO-4
  Sam-R-TDS-2
  ‘Ziggy’ Star-R-DST-2
  Simon-R-IDO-2
  Sigmunduf-R-OID-2
  Spencer-G-RLE-6
  Spen-G-LER-6
  Sunny-O-OXD-3
  Sun-O-CCO-3
  Tony-V-LLI-6
  Tooner-V-ILL-6
  Wes-B-DBA-4
  Wee-B-BAD-4
  ■ Pun name substitutions
  treason charges—up to automatic brainscrub 
  for interruption of Power Service.
  Or maybe the PCs get assigned a lousy 
  autocar. Maybe they don’t get to Tony-I in time. 
  Maybe they get terminated. That’ll teach ’em to 
  get on the bad side of the motor pool.
  ■ Internal Security response codes
  Code 0 
  Commie subversion activity 
  in progress. Respond 
  immediately and capture all 
  responsible.
  Code 1 
  The Computer requests 
  assistance. Immediate 
  response is required. Failure 
  is treason.
  Code 007 License to kill. No termination 
  voucher necessary.
  Code 7 
  Routine mission. Perfectly 
  safe. Perfectly routine. 
  Perfectly.
  Code 8 
  Treasonous activity in 
  progress. Stop at all costs.
  Code 9 
  I N F R A R E D  r e q u e s t s 
  assistance. Response 
  optional.
  Code 14 
  RED citizen requests 
  assistance. Respond if 
  available.
  Code 17 
  R e a c t o r  m e l t d o w n . 
  Requisition radiation gear 
  and evacuate sector.
  Code 23 
  ORANGE citizen requests 
  assistance. Respond as time 
  permits.
  Code 25 
  Major disaster in Power 
  S e r v i c e s .  R e s p o n d 
  immediately.
  Code 28 
  YELLOW citizen requests 
  assistance. Respond with 
  reasonable promptness.
  Code 30  GREEN citizen requests 
  assistance. Respond 
  promptly.
  Code 33 
  Citizen with possibly 
  lethal equipment. Retrieve 
  equipment at all costs. Citizen 
  is expendable.
  Code 34 
  BLUE citizen requests 
  assistance. Respond 
  quickly.
  Code 35 
  Trooper in trouble. Respond 
  and assist.
  Code 41 
  INDIGO citizen requests 
  assistance. Drop everything 
  and respond immediately.
  Code 47 
  Essential services malfunction 
  (usually life support systems). 
  Investigate and report.
  Code 50 
  Disturbance in subsector 
  ___________. Investigate 
  and report. 
  Code 52 
  Troubleshooters request 
  assistance. Respond as you 
  see fit and with extreme 
  caution.
  Code 53 
  VIOLET citizen requests 
  assistance. Get there. Now.
  Code 56 
  Stray petbot causing 
  disturbance. Catch and 
  return to rightful owner.
  Code 59 
  This code reserved for future 
  use.
  Code 61 
  Beserk bot. Approach with 
  caution.
  Code 69 
  This code left intentionally 
  blank. 
  Code 75 
  Lower-clearance citizen 
  annoying higher-clearance 
  citizen. Coroner has been 
  notiﬁ ed.
  Code 99 
  ULTRAVIOLET citizen 
  requires assistance. Need 
  we say more?
  The following codes are the most common requests for assistance. Memorize them. 
  Failure to do so is treason.
  This list courtesy of the IntSec Ministry of Information, Ofﬁ ce of Information Dispersal.
  Communications Central uses these special code numbers to concisely indicate the 
  nature of the disturbance the Troopers are to deal with. They also serve to confuse any 
  non-IntSec personnel who may be eavesdropping. Memorize them. Failure to do so is 
  treason. These codes are subject to change without notice.
  The number you have 
  reached is imaginary. 
  Please rotate your PDC 90 
  degrees and try again.
  
  105
  Name
  Relevant skills & specialties
  Weapons*
  Armor**
  Roleplaying notes
  Beth-V-DEE-3
  Energy Weapons 14, Unarmed Combat 12
  Force sword
  Reﬂ ec, Kevlar
  Informant’s Registry Supervisor. Sweet, innocent-
  looking, dangerous powermonger.
  Biff-G-OFB-3
  Energy Weapons 08, Unarmed Combat 07
  Laser pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  Loyalty Ofﬁ cer. Torquemada Jr.
  Brett-I-HIL-6
  Energy Weapons 12, Unarmed Combat 09
  Laser pistol
  Combat suit
  Communications Central Dispatch Supervisor. 
  Genuinely (and therefore suspiciously) wise, loyal and 
  helpful.
  Candy-Y-DAN-2
  Energy Weapons 09, Unarmed Combat 08
  Laser pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  Forensic Sciences Technician. Friendly, cheerful and 
  open, when Larissa-Y is mean, nasty and 
  uncooperative, and vice versa.
  Charles-B-NSD-4
  Energy Weapons 14, Unarmed Combat 10
  Energy pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  Surveillance and Covert Operations Supervisor. ‘Desk-
  work good.’
  Cody-V-TRE-2, Dirk-
  Y-RYH-5, Oprah-I-
  NSO-3
  Energy Weapons 10, Unarmed Combat 08
  Laser pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  Field Agents. Think Dirty Harry vs. Commie mutant 
  traitors.
  Flynn-I-MMA-2
  Energy Weapons 05, Unarmed Combat 04
  Laser pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  Dept. of Political Therapy Supervisor. Torquemada Sr.
  Frank-I-OLL-5
  Energy Weapons 14, Unarmed Combat 15
  Laser pistol
  Combat suit
  HIL Sector BLUEs IntSec Captain. Fair, just, very 
  ambitious.
  Hank-G-NMA-1
  Energy Weapons 05, Hand Weapons 13, 
  Unarmed Combat 07
  Neurowhip
  Kevlar
  Truth Technician. Scary when bored.
  Herm-G-ELW-5
  Energy Weapons 06, Unarmed Combat 11
  Can’t ﬁ nd it
  Can’t ﬁ nd it
  R&D Technician. Acts like a 1960s Hippie.
  Ian-O-YKA-4
  Energy Weapons 06, Unarmed Combat 04
  Laser pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  Ministry of Information Supervisor. Never available. 
  PCs talk to Sam-R-TDS instead.
  Julius-V-NRE-5
  Energy Weapons 04, Unarmed Combat 04
  Laser pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  R&D Supervisor. Eager to help, paranoid about his 
  job, shifts blame to underlings.
  Larissa-Y-DAN-2
  Energy Weapons 08, Unarmed Combat 06
  Laser pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  Forensic Sciences Supervisor. Friendly, cheerful and 
  open, when Candy-Y is mean, nasty and 
  uncooperative and vice versa.
  Mabel-B-EEE-6
  Unarmed Combat 04
  Hangs up (skill 20)
  Surliness
  Dispatch Operator. Practical joker.
  Martie-I-OLG-2
  Energy Weapons 07, Unarmed Combat 05
  Laser pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  Mutant’s Registry Supervisor. Mutie-hater.
  Mitch-V-CEI-2
  Energy Weapons 12, Unarmed Combat 08
  Sonic pistol
  Kevlar
  Political Orthodoxy & Interrogation Supervisor. Scary 
  when bored.
  Newman-R-NOI-3
  Energy Weapons 04, Unarmed Combat 04
  Laser pistol
  None
  R&D Clerical Assistant to Tony-V-LLI-6. Squeaky, 
  nerdy voice. Dislikes Tony-V, but won’t say so. Thinks 
  Tony-V is incompetent, dismisses danger.
  Noam-I-TNO-6
  Energy Weapons 15, Unarmed Combat 13
  Laser riﬂ e
  Kevlar
  ‘Sarge’ Duty Ofﬁ cer. PCs’ best friend or worst enemy.
  Pip-G-NEO-4
  Energy Weapons 05, Unarmed Combat 04
  Laser pistol
  None
  Registry Coordinator. New employee, scared of Beth-
  V.
  Preston-O-XEX-2
  Energy Weapons 08, Unarmed Combat 04
  Laser pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  Registry Clerk. Protects mutants and compiles data on 
  them.
  Rafe-B-AEU-3
  All Violence skills 19
  All of them
  Invulnerable to 
  aimed weapons
  Amiable killer.
  Rocky-B-MBO-1
  Energy Weapons 10, Field Weapons 12, Unarmed 
  Combat 17
  Laser riﬂ e, Tangler
  Combat suit
  Armory Supervisor. Loves hearing things go boom.
  Sammie-O-OXD-4
  Energy Weapons 09, Unarmed Combat 05
  Laser welder
  Reﬂ ec
  Motor Pool Mechanic. Tweedle-dee. (See Sunny-O.)
  Sam-R-TDS-2
  Energy Weapons 04, Unarmed Combat 04
  Laser pistol
  None
  Information Ofﬁ cer. Snivelling, whining. Threats work 
  vs. Sam-R.
  NPC roster
  * All NPCs are assumed to have Unarmed Combat except as noted. Weapons listed above do the following damage: Energy pistol (W3K energy), Force 
  sword (S3K energy), Laser pistol (W3K energy), Laser riﬂ e (W3K energy), Laser welder (W3K energy, no range), Neurowhip (S5M energy), Sonic pistol 
  (S3W energy), Tangler (snafu), Unarmed (O5K impact), Wrench (S5K impact).
  **Armor listed above provides the following protection: Reﬂ ec (E1), Kevlar (I3), Combat suit (5). For more information, see the PARANOIA rulebook.
  CODE 14. RESPOND IF AVAILABLE.
  NPCS
  BLUE
  
  106
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Type
  No.
  Speed
  Weapons
  Special equipment & abilities
  Size
  Armor
  Techbot
  6
  Walk (legs)
  Various* (skill 10)
  As weapons require. Standard chassis; two light 
  manipulators; medium brain; narrow, literal programming.
  Obey Tony-V-LLI-6. Susceptible to Con Games skill.
  Man-size
  None
  Scrubot
  1
  Stroll (treads)
  Experimental force sword (skill 
  08, S3K energy), scrub brush 
  (skill 20, O4D impact)
  Corpore Metal. Three extendible arms ﬁ tted with scrub 
  brushes; one arm with force sword; small brain.
  Obeys companion techbot. More or less. (Usually less.)
  A little smaller than 
  man-size
  None
  Bot roster
  * Techbots have one of the following weapons:
  Industrial table laser (W2K energy), plasma generator (V1V energy), X-ray laser (K1V, if it works), unfamiliar canisters, gluon pack (always snafus 
  when hits).
  Name
  Relevant skills & specialties
  Weapons*
  Armor**
  Roleplaying notes
  Simon-R-IDO-2
  Energy Weapons 06, Unarmed Combat 08
  Laser pistol,
  None
  PLC Service Representative. Argues with boss, 
  Spencer-G.
  Spencer-G-RLE-6
  Energy Weapons 12, Unarmed Combat 06
  Laser pistol
  Reﬂ ec
  PLC Outﬁ tting Supervisor. Taciturn, rude, suspicious. 
  Always around.
  Sunny-O-OXD-3
  Energy Weapons 04, Hand Weapons 16, 
  Unarmed Combat 08
  Wrench
  Reﬂ ec
  Motor Pool Supervisor. Tweedle-dum. (See Sammie-
  O.)
  Tony-I-LLI-6
  Doomsday Weapons 20, Unarmed Combat 07
  Gravity Potential 
  Ampliﬁ er (V1V)
  None
  Violent, loony R&D genius.
  Wes-B-DBA-4
  Energy Weapons 03, Unarmed Combat 05
  Laser riﬂ e
  Kevlar
  Weapons Technician. Loves hearing things go boom.
  NPC roster (cont.)
  I’ve got my tinfoil hat on / Hip hip hip hooray!
  My tinfoil hat will shield me from your mind-controlling ray.
  I’ve got my tinfoil hat on / To insulate my brain.
  As long as I have got my tinfoil hat on I’ll be sane.
  Naughty little voices chanting
  Naughty little thoughts implanting
  Aluminium will strike them dumb.
  Wear a tinfoil hat!
  Aliens and goblins / Were watching me in bed
  Until I got some Bacofoil and wrapped it round my head.
  Now I’ve got my tinfoil hat on / My mind cannot be soiled.
  I’ve got my tinfoil hat on and their evil plans are foiled!
  —Miss Prism and others in the 4thur community (music by doghorse)
  [ http://eclectech.co.uk/mindcontrol.php ]
  
  Typical INDIGO jobs
  Senior execs, personal staff and 
  cleaning crew for ULTRAVIOLETs; 
  Armed Forces colonels; CPU chief 
  director; HPD&MC vidshow studio 
  chiefs, Teela O’Malley’s agent; 
  IntSec deputy supervisors and senior 
  interrogators; in PLC, the guy who 
  takes the fall when the new B3 recipe 
  ﬂ ops; in Power Services, the guy who 
  designs power plants; R&D project 
  leads; Tech Services surgeons; Free 
  Enterprise liaisons to service group 
  leaders.
  In apprehension how like a god
  What is your Alpha Complex? Is it an actual 
  utopia that’s simply under constant attack by 
  Communists? A barely functioning society 
  on the verge of collapse? A scarily effective 
  system of oppression and organization? The 
  grandest attempt at mass mind-control ever 
  performed by mutants? An experiment by an 
  alien race? All of the above, sequentially or in 
  parallel?
  Whatever it is, by the time your players reach 
  INDIGO Clearance, they should know—at least 
  the ﬁ rst layer. INDIGOs don’t know everything, 
  but for the ﬁ rst time, they know what they don’t 
  know. That is, they understand enough to mark 
  the boundaries of their ignorance. The dark 
  areas of their world-picture are large but have 
  sharp edges.
  INDIGO citizens are the demigods of Alpha Complex, the 
  seraphim without free will, the djinn of cosmic power chained to 
  a rusted lamp. They aren’t all-powerful, but they work every day 
  with those who are. If an INDIGO wants it to happen, he can make 
  it happen—so long as his superior approves.
  There’s little materially INDIGOs could want. No, at INDIGO, 
  the fear is twofold: 1. Remaining stuck at INDIGO, and thereby 
  always having to cater to the whims of VIOLETs. 2. Not catering to 
  the often-conﬂ icting whims of VIOLETs, and thus being promptly 
  demoted.
  If this doesn’t drive your players up the wall, pose more conﬂ ict in 
  their orders. For example, have one VIOLET citizen order the PCs 
  to ensure all citizens wear special adamantium-foil hats to protect 
  them from mutants. Have another order the PCs to ensure all 
  citizens can be instantly inspected for regulation hair length and 
  hygiene.
  Finally, just to make matters worse, at this level it’s painfully 
  apparent the only way to become VIOLET is by stepping into 
  the boots of a recently demoted VIOLET citizen. But how does 
  a demigod take down a god? This question has spawned whole 
  religions—and now PARANOIA too.
  INDIGO contents 
  Dossier: Thorwald-I-AJU-9 
   
  (Eric Minton) 
  108
  INDIGO improvements  
   
  (Dan CurtisJohnson) 
  109
  Secret agents (Joshua Moretto) 110
  Secret society life 
   
  (Gareth Hanrahan) 
  110
  R&D mad scientists 
  (Allen Varney/Jeff Groves) 
  114
  Salary: 100,000 cr/month
  Food: Gourmet meals and rich 
  desserts.
  Housing: A lovely big subsector 
  all your own.
  Transport: Several vehicles with 
  chauffeur or pilot.
  Staff: Full staff of humans and 
  bots. You can go a month without 
  seeing an ORANGE citizen.
  Authority: May promote to 
  GREEN or lower. May demote from 
  BLUE or lower. You serve on the 
  Boards of several service ﬁ rms.
  Perks: Obsessive coverage on 
  celebrity vidshows, assuming you 
  like that; always a table open or a 
  room ready; you skip the lines and 
  go directly to the manager. You pull 
  lots of strings at IntSec. If you offer 
  good reasons to The Computer, you 
  can openly study Old Reckoning 
  Cultures.
  Demographic: A few tenths of a 
  percent of the population; dozens, 
  a hundred at most, in a standard 
  sector.
  EXTREME INDIGO
  
  Proﬁ leNet :: Internal Security :: Department of Offender and At-Risk Tracking
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   CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN 
  Reference #: 784-67-623-341
  [Last Update: 214.04.18 23:55]
  Name: Thorwald-I-AJU-9
  Decantationdate: 156.04.30
  Service group: R&D
  Service ﬁ rm: HPD-BrainBudz
  Occupation: Brain Trust Researcher 
  (Class AA, Unattached)
  Last known location: BMB Sector, 
  Subsector 0A, Room 29
  Height: 170 cm
  Weight: 65.7 kg
  INDIGO Clearance
  Dossier: Thorwald-I-AJU-9
  ACTIVITIES & AFFILIATIONS
  Activities: Independent research, organizing exploratory expeditions into the Outdoors and 
  Underplex, experimental ﬂ avor testing, recreational drug use: zarobutyl acid (experi-
  mental), discussion groups, training of protégés
  Afﬁ liations: HPD-BrainBudz (board member), PharmaFill PLC (board member), Piffer Labs (board 
  member), Yumee Bytes Snacks and Medicinals (board member), DNAssemblers TS 
  (trustee), FunFoods PLC (trustee), R&D Brain Trust 47/E
  TREASONS & COMMENDATIONS
  Treasons: 
  possession of unauthorized information (41), possession of unauthorized equip-
  ment (4), possession of unauthorized pharmaceuticals (11), damaging / destroying 
  assigned equipment (146), ﬁ lesharing (50) (see records)
  Commendations: Class A invention (1) (see also: Jelloidal InterNode eXchange), class B invention 
  (4), class C invention (31), class D invention (16), type 2 invention (1), type 15a 
  invention (1), efﬁ cient use of resources (5), enthusiastic leadership (2) (see records)
  GENETIC PROFILE & CREDIT RATING
  Genetic Proﬁ le: Class 40X/91r4; anomalies at 0005c, 0290a, 1723a, 3272g, 3382t, 3094t, 6561a, 
  6608a. [23% chance of one or more psionic mutations; 28% chance of one or 
  more metabolic mutations] (Note: possible side effects may stem from experi-
  mental template-scrub technology; see records)
  Cybernetics: 
  MindWire Cerebral Implant [legal, experimental], cybernetic eye T35342-47389 
  [legal, experimental], cybernetic hand 73147-8943r [legal, experimental]
  Credit Rating:  12-INDIGO (129,560cr)
  ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
  Known high-ranking member of Pro Tech secret society. Inﬁ ltrating Anti-Mutant society on 
  behalf of Pro Tech. Known to have high-level contacts in Computer Phreaks, Corpore Metal and 
  Mystics. Low-level contacts in Free Enterprise, Psion, Romantics and Sierra Club. Death toll 
  from his experiments exceeds 1,200 citizens. GeneEst gives 99% chance protégé Shankar-G is 
  cloned from his own modiﬁ ed DNA.
  ANALYSIS
  Primary drive: scientiﬁ c curiosity. Secondary drives: professional pride. Steals credit for re-
  search from subordinates to compensate for diminishing creative output. Cloning self to create 
  protégés and proposing steadily more dangerous research projects and exploratory missions 
  are symptomatic of need to cement place in scientiﬁ c history. PsychEst gives 20% chance 
  subject will attempt to immortalize self via cataclysmic project backﬁ re (see also: Project 
  Inﬁ nite Hole -> Analysis)
  RECOMMENDATIONS & COMMENTS
  Threat level: low to moderate. Increase oversight of all research projects associated with 
  subject.
  Comments:  [[ More useful if turned? Offer HOOC or historical revision in exchange for deep 
  inﬁ ltration of Pro Tech, Phreaks. –Ibrahim-I ]]
  [[ Not until scientiﬁ c use is exhausted. Pro Tech not currently a major threat, and deep Phreak 
  inﬁ ltration unlikely. –Deirdre-I ]]
  [[ TreasEst gives 60% chance of deep Corpore Metal involvement networked through cybernetics 
  and unaccounted for by surveillance. I recommend remand to Brain Reclamation. –Shreyas-I ]]
  
  109
  ■ Food, drink and consumables
  ■ TwinklePies: 75cr each
  A faithful reproduction of an Old Reckoning classic, these ﬂ uffy, cream-
  ﬁ lled snacks are one of the purest food pleasures ever discovered. (It 
  is rumored that, for around two grand, you can buy an actual, original 
  TwinklePie, still in its pre-disaster plastic wrap!)
  ■ Drugs and recreation
  ■ Trioxyniacinbiﬂ avin (aka Supermind): 
  15cr per dose
  This fast-acting inhalant super-accelerates the neural pathways to the 
  brain for a few minutes, during which time you can recall past events 
  with perfect clarity, establish indelible new memories, perform advanced 
  calculations and even identify and break post-hypnotic suggestions that 
  have been placed by others! Use the other 99% of that mind of yours! 
  (WARNING: Not to be used more than once per day.)
  ■ Flowers: 30 – 50cr per bouquet, 
  100 – 500cr per pot
  These beautiful, colorful decorative items were actually alive at one 
  time. Or, if you’re feeling really adventurous, purchase a still-living 
  plant to grow in a corner of your home! (Jackobot with garden-care 
  programming sold separately.)
  ■ DeSuppressant: 100cr per dose 
  (ILLEGAL! Heavy medication if caught)
  This amazing pill temporarily counters the battery of bio-suppressants 
  that build up in the body from the food and water supply. Experience 
  the unadulterated sensation of being human for up to 50 minutes at a 
  time!
  ■ Hygiene and maintenance
  ■ NewFace accessories: 400cr each
  Temporarily change your eye color, hair color and other facial 
  characteristics with these custom prosthetics. Pass unnoticed among 
  your workers and servants! For decorative purposes only; not to be 
  used for escaping justice by assuming a new identity, not that such an 
  outlandish thought crossed your mind.
  ■ High-Gene spray: 1500cr 
  (ILLEGAL! Censure if caught)
  Minimize your ‘genetic wake’ with this body-spray. Breaks down dead 
  skin cells and loose hair before they can fall off and be left behind 
  wherever you go. No longer worry about your genetic scan turning up 
  as evidence in someone else’s crime!
  ■ Clothing and accessories
  ■ Custom-tailored uniform: 600 – 4500cr
  Have your entire uniform hand-cut from the ground up, every piece 
  specially designed to ﬁ t your current body shape. For the cost-conscious, 
  you may make do with the same synthetic ﬁ bers everyone wears, but 
  for the well-compensated citizen, a suit woven from all-natural material 
  will turn every head when you walk by.
  ■ Survival and technology
  ■ BotVox: 2000cr
  Worn around the neck, this transmitter translates sub-verbal speech 
  directly into binary radio signals understandable only to bots, allowing 
  you to issue instructions with your fellow citizens none the wiser.
  ■ Implantech: 5000cr + (device cost x 500) 
  (ILLEGAL! Termination if caught)
  Have chronometers, laser pistols, hygiene gear and the like 
  cybernetically placed (discreetly) inside your body, so you never have 
  to wonder where they are again.
  ■ Services
  ■ Armed Forces escort: 50,000cr per week
  How many times did you cower in fear at the heavily-armed bodyguards 
  of higher-clearance citizens? Now you’re the one with a half-dozen 
  ruthless soldiers ready to ‘deal’ with any sort of irritation!
  ■ Sector shutdown: 20,000 – 75,000cr 
  (ILLEGAL! Termination if caught)
  Throw enough money around and you can orchestrate the complete 
  halt of some key piece of infrastructure in an entire sector for several 
  hours. All the transbots stop moving? All the lights go out? Comlinks 
  go down? Elevators halt? The mind reels! As always, the cheaper you 
  go, the more likely someone will rat you out.
  INDIGO improvements
  It feels like the weight of the world is on you, doesn’t it? How you pine for those 
  earlier days, when all you needed to do was ﬁ gure out how to survive one more day 
  without being shot.
  INDIGO
  WHAT IS THIS ‘COMPUTER’ YOU SPEAK OF, CITIZEN?
  THINGS TO BUY
  
  110
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Troubleshooters: Secret agents
  Most Troubleshooter duties in this book use a 
  ‘slaps and bennies’ format. Here, at Security 
  Clearance INDIGO, things are a little different, 
  because this duty consists of a single benny: 
  The Troubleshooters might survive it, and will 
  move on to VIOLET if they do. Everything else 
  about this duty is a slap, and deserves a more 
  detailed treatment. Trust us, it’ll be fun.
  The low life of high 
  clearance
  Rank has its privileges. As the Troubleshooters 
  have been scaling the ladder of security 
  clearance, life has, on the whole, been 
  improving. They’ve scrambled up from the 
  food vats of the INFRARED masses. They 
  have their own rooms, vehicles and, perhaps 
  best of all, real food. The life at the higher 
  clearances is opulent, and richly deserved after 
  all the betrayals and felonies they committed 
  to get here.
  INDIGO Clearance Troubleshooters, 
  however, usually get none of this. Nada. Zip. 
  Zilch. Nothing. Not a sausage. Especially not 
  a sausage.
  Goodbye, real food. Goodbye, private living 
  quarters, masseuses, optional pharmatherapy 
  and private autocar. It’s back to the communal 
  bathrooms for you, citizen!
  Q1. Why? Q2. And why would anyone want 
  to be INDIGO if this is true?
  A1. Because INDIGO Troubleshooters are 
  spies. A2. It’s a Troubleshooter’s only route 
  to VIOLET.
  ■ Spies? Spies!
  Ahem. Secret agents, if you please, citizen. 
  The most common duty for an INDIGO 
  Clearance Troubleshooter is life as a secret 
  agent. A few lucky Troubleshooters at this 
  clearance receive other, very public duties 
  purely to keep the populace from noticing the 
  curious absence of INDIGO Troubleshooters. 
  These lucky Troubleshooters are so ferociously 
  hated by the rest that many who make it to 
  VIOLET are picked off shortly thereafter by 
  former secret agents who survived to reach 
  VIOLET themselves. Vengeance is sweet, if 
  long in coming.
  INDIGO secret agents are assigned the 
  dangerous task of inﬁ ltrating a secret society. 
  Living entirely undercover, they become 
  members of a cell (cabal, club, congregation or 
  whatever) and worm their way into the ranks, 
  gathering information and feeding it back to 
  The Computer. They might be undercover 
  for months or even years among their society 
  brethren (assuming they live that long and have 
  enough clones). By rising in degree , they gain 
  by Joshua Moretto
  INDIGOs are—not trusted, obviously, but less not-trusted 
  than lower-clearance citizens. The threshold of mandatory 
  informational hygiene (i.e., not knowing what you’re not supposed 
  to know, forgetting if you ﬁ nd out anything you’re not supposed 
  know, forgetting if you ﬁ nd out that there are things you’re not 
  supposed to know) is considerably lower for INDIGOs. They are 
  permitted to hold treasonous thoughts for ofﬁ cial purposes. A 
  YELLOW IntSec agent who investigates a Commie cell might be 
  scrubbed to get the propaganda out of his brain, but his INDIGO 
  supervisor views the propaganda for future reference.
  INDIGOs undertake long-term inﬁ ltration missions of secret 
  societies. Normally, disposable low-clearance Troubleshooters 
  are assigned such dangerous missions, but longer-term IntSec-
  sponsored deep cover positions are best given to experienced 
  INDIGO spies. Of course, seeing as most of these spies are 
  already secret society members, they end up being double 
  agents, triple agents, quadruple agents or worse. This induces an 
  oddly detached mindset. Once you’ve spied on the Frankenstein 
  Destroyers for Pro Tech for Psion for the Anti-Mutants for 
  Frankenstein Destroyers for IntSec while still trying to hide your 
  fervent Sierra Club beliefs, being asked to spy on the Sierra Club 
  for the Frankenstein Destroyers seems eminently plausible.
  Not all INDIGO secret society members have such stressful 
  and confusing assignments. Sometimes one is sent to spy on 
  one’s own secret society. The bulk of society administration is 
  done by high-level INDIGOs spying on themselves. They spend 
  most of the day doing ofﬁ cial society business, then spend ten 
  minutes merrily writing up ﬁ ctitious reports about society activities. 
  Many of the completely erroneous beliefs held by IntSec and The 
  Computer stem from these agents: ‘All PURGE agents are nine 
  feet tall. Corpore Metal members can only be killed by gold dust. 
  Phil-I-HNB is a harmless Romantic, despite his large personal 
  collection of heavy weaponry.’
  ■ Societies with a major INDIGO presence
  Computer Phreaks: Only a handful of Phreaks are actually 
  INDIGO, but their inﬂ uence means they’re best discussed here. 
  Phreaks often incur dangerous judgments in their permanent 
  records like ‘not a team player’ or ‘stays up past Approved 
  Bedtim^^^THIS CITIZEN IS A MODEL CITIZEN AND YOU 
  SHOULD GIVE HIM HOT FUN’, so they rarely get promoted. 
  However, many putative BLUEs, INDIGOs and VIOLETs only 
  exist in computer records. Hackers use these puppets to issue 
  orders that beneﬁ t the low-clearance Phreaks.
  FCCC-P: The FCCC-P is the only society in which degree is 
  directly proportional to security clearance. After all, INDIGO is next 
  to godliness. This can cause problems for the society, as fast-track 
  Troubleshooters suddenly ﬁ nd themselves promoted to head of a 
  congregation without a clue about approved doctrine. Cue heresy. 
  Truly, The Computer works in mysterious ways.
  Illuminati: They don’t exist. Move along, citizen. If they did exist, 
  they’d all be ULTRAVIOLETs anyway, right? They wouldn’t be 
  manipulating everything from positions of comfortable obscurity. 
  Everyone knows vice presidents and executive assistants have 
  no power. Fnord.
  —Gareth Hanrahan
  ■ INDIGO secret society life
  
  111
  YOUR COMPLAINT HAS BEEN REGISTERED. HAVE A NICE DAYCYCLE.
  INDIGO
  TROUBLESHOOTERS: SECRET AGENTS
  ever deeper access and expose more of the 
  dark heart of treason to The Computer.
  Still, you may well wonder why being secret 
  agents means such a drastic drop in privilege 
  for these poor sa— er, loyal citizens. Think of 
  James Bond: tuxedos, fancy hotels, expensive 
  cars and, for some unfathomable reason, 
  baccarat.
  It’s simple: High-clearance citizens are rare. 
  The last thing you want to do as an undercover 
  operative is stand out. More to the point, 
  entering a secret society from a position of lofty 
  status is highly suspicious. No cell of traitors 
  will believe a YELLOW citizen, or even an 
  ORANGE, isn’t already working for someone 
  else. So it’s back to RED as our secret agents 
  assume their cover identities.
  Interestingly, most secret agents retain 
  their roles as Troubleshooters in their cover 
  identity. You probably see where this is 
  going: INDIGO secret agents, impersonating 
  RED Clearance Troubleshooters, relive the 
  exact same anxieties as they did back in 
  their RED Clearance days, only now with the 
  added problems of being undercover secret 
  agents piled on top. Welcome to PARANOIA 
  hardcore.
  Particularly sadistic GMs (or masochistic 
  players) may try running a series with the 
  premise that all PCs are actually INDIGO agents 
  masquerading as the RED Troubleshooters. 
  We recommend only experienced players 
  and GMs attempt this; a PARANOIA series 
  can be daunting enough with the default 
  assumptions.
  The making of 
  a secret agent
  By the time a Troubleshooter has reached 
  INDIGO he’s well known, at least among 
  higher-clearance citizens. If the Troubleshooter 
  has spent any signiﬁ cant time in Civic Pride 
  Detail, he may be famous all over Alpha 
  Complex. This is not the stuff of undercover 
  operatives. So The Computer orders the 
  following drastic preparations:
  Step 1. Remove the Troubleshooter from 
  his mundane life.
  Acquaintances and coworkers gradually 
  see the Troubleshooter less and less, until 
  they ﬁ nally lose interest in where Ben-I is 
  these days. The Troubleshooter lives in an 
  undisclosed location, sometimes conﬁ ned for 
  days at a time with no outside contact.
  To conceal prominent Troubleshooters, The 
  Computer makes a public announcement, 
  dramatically chastizing him for some fabricated 
  failing and sternly demoting this wastrel to 
  BLUE. It ofﬁ cially assigns the Troubleshooter 
  Outdoors Duty, and has IntSec create and ﬁ le 
  periodic reports in his name. 
  With bona-ﬁ de Troubleshooter celebrities, 
  The Computer ofﬁ cially announces the death 
  of the Troubleshooter, generally with lavish 
  descriptions (and even video, when possible) 
  of the hero’s tragic fall while ﬁ ghting menacing 
  Commie mutant traitors.
  Step 2. Alter his appearance. 
  Most Troubleshooters only require a haircut 
  and a dye job. The more famous must undergo 
  cosmetic surgery to radically alter their faces. 
  The most widely known agents brave even 
  more extreme alterations. The most advanced 
  Alpha Complex docbots take off an inch 
  or two here, add a bit there and massively 
  change the victi— agent’s entire build. Short 
  Troubleshooters become taller, the heavy end 
  up skinny and so on.
  Step 3. Construct a cover identity. The 
  Computer renames the Troubleshooter, 
  reassigns him to a new service firm and 
  relocates him to a distant sector to minimize the 
  chance of recognition. Timid Power Services 
  nerds ﬁ nd themselves enrolled in the Armed 
  Forces and other such mismatches, but not 
  too often. CPU creates an elaborate array of 
  forged documentation in sundry databanks, 
  providing deep coverage should anyone pry. 
  These records are then linked to the agent’s 
  tongueprint, and his life’s original records are 
  disassociated from it.
  The entire process systematically severs 
  the Troubleshooter from his former life. All 
  information trails are erased.
  What with the alterations to their appearance, 
  some agents fear these efforts are so complete 
  nobody will remember who they actually are, 
  and all knowledge of their role as undercover 
  agents will be lost. This almost never happens. 
  Or if it did, well, how would you ever know, 
  you know?
  Nonetheless, rumors persist that this occurs 
  with disturbing frequency. Alpha Complex lore 
  even asserts that at least one High Programmer 
  attained his position after being ‘lost’ in exactly 
  this fashion and then climbing back up through 
  the ranks in his cover identity.
  Life undercover: 
  Staying in character
  Living as a secret agent isn’t easy. To begin 
  with, there’s the disgruntling loss of privilege, 
  going from cushy INDIGO opulence to the 
  drudgery of a RED dormitory. Troubleshooters 
  in this position struggle not to break cover 
  and rebel against their reduced status. When 
  a secret agent can’t handle the loss and 
  unfortunately starts demanding real food 
  and a massagebot, he’s treated exactly like 
  a RED Clearance Troubleshooter would 
  be: extensive pharmaceutical therapy and 
  disciplinary action.
  The perfect anarchist was not recognized as a 
  fellow creature by Chief Inspector Heat. He was 
  impossible—a mad dog to be left alone. Not that 
  the Chief Inspector was afraid of him; on the 
  contrary, he meant to have him some day. But not 
  yet: He meant to get hold of him in his own time, 
  properly and effectively, according to the rules of 
  the game. The present was not the right time for 
  attempting that feat, not the right time for many 
  reasons, personal and of public service.
  —Joseph Conrad, The Secret Agent (1907)
  
  112
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Some secret agents, especially those 
  who rose slowly in clearance, have trouble 
  remembering to ‘be’ RED Clearance. A 
  careless agent might absently walk down 
  a BLUE corridor, casually give orders to 
  a GREEN officer or offhandedly refer to 
  information far above his cover identity’s 
  RED Clearance. These lapses are treated 
  as instances of insanity (common enough in 
  Alpha Complex), providing a certain amount 
  of inherent damage control and protecting the 
  operation. However, with repeated violations, 
  the agent may be ‘neutralized’, rather than risk 
  exposing the operation.
  Swimming with sharks, or, 
  my life as a pretend traitor
  IntSec assigns the agent a secret society to 
  join. Finding a contact for the given society 
  can be either trivial or tricky. Certainly many 
  citizens ﬁ nd it hard to go a month without 
  becoming embroiled in something at least 
  vaguely treasonous. A clever Troubleshooter 
  can follow up on such illicit doings and trace 
  them back to a secret society contact. Another 
  popular method is to contact the IR Market and 
  pursue leads there.
  Inevitably, a secret agent who has, in 
  his RED cover identity, no attachment to a 
  secret society will eventually be recruited—by 
  somebody or other. An agent who seems 
  excessively picky about hitching up arouses 
  suspicion, so a prudent spy may need to join 
  a number of interim societies, then arrange to 
  get drummed out, all while waiting for the right 
  contact to whisper a rendezvous in his ear. 
  He must beware of repercussions from being 
  ousted; some societies are less forgiving of 
  apostasy than others. If he has to get himself 
  thrown out of PURGE, the agent might as 
  well head back to HQ and start over, because 
  otherwise his tour of duty will end quick.
  Sometimes an unlucky agent gets assigned 
  to inﬁ ltrate the secret society he belongs to in 
  his regular identity. Because he already knows 
  drop points, secret signals and code words, 
  making contact is easy. Given the disjointed 
  structure of most secret societies, an agent 
  can simply start showing up at meetings as a 
  new recruit (‘Bob-R sent me’). 
  But the secret agent spying on his own 
  society must report ample, accurate information 
  to keep his superiors happy without injuring 
  his society’s aims. This should test even an 
  INDIGO’s Chutzpah rating.
  It would seem best to spy on some third-party 
  society (so to speak) for IntSec, while informing 
  one’s own society of the undercover operation. 
  Then the spy can report to IntSec and his 
  own society, earning favor with both. But this 
  seldom happens, because the cosmetically 
  altered agent can’t prove his own identity to 
  the society that knew him best. They consider 
  him a stranger—a spy, rightly enough—and 
  may take punitive action.
  Having found, contacted and joined a secret 
  society by whatever means, a secret agent 
  now faces the task of living his life: going about 
  the life of a RED Clearance citizen, probably 
  as a Troubleshooter, while meeting with a 
  secret society, avoiding discovery (both by 
  the society itself, exposing the agent as a spy, 
  Ossipon gasped, as it were, discreetly. ‘Do you mean to say you would hand [your explosives] over to a 
  tec [detective] if one came to ask you for your wares?’
  The [Professor] smiled faintly. ‘Let them come and try it on, and you will see,’ he said. ‘They know me, 
  but I know also every one of them. They won’t come near me—not they.’
  His thin, livid lips snapped together ﬁ rmly. Ossipon began to argue. ‘But they could send someone—rig 
  a plant on you. Don’t you see? Get the stuff from you in that way, and then arrest you with the proof in 
  their hands.’
  ‘Proof of what? Dealing in explosives without a license perhaps.’ This was meant for a contemptuous 
  jeer, though the expression of the thin, sickly man remained unchanged, and the utterance was 
  negligent. ‘I don’t think there’s one of them anxious to make that arrest. I don’t think they could get 
  one of them to apply for a warrant. [...] Because they know very well I take care never to part with 
  the last handful of my wares. I’ve it always by me. [...] I walk always with my right hand closed round 
  the indiarubber ball which I have in my trouser pocket. The pressing of this ball actuates a detonator 
  inside the ﬂ ask I carry in my pocket. It’s the principle of the pneumatic instantaneous shutter for a 
  camera lens. The tube leads up—’
  With a swift, disclosing gesture he gave Ossipon a glimpse of an indiarubber tube, resembling a 
  slender brown worm, issuing from the armhole of his waistcoat and plunging into the inner breast 
  pocket of his jacket. His clothes, of a nondescript brown mixture, were threadbare and marked with 
  stains, dusty in the folds, with ragged button-holes. ‘The detonator is partly mechanical, partly 
  chemical,’ he explained, with casual condescension.
  —Joseph Conrad, The Secret Agent
  
  113
  and by the ordinary authorities, exposing his 
  RED Clearance identity as a traitor) and ﬁ ling 
  clandestine reports. But the clock is ticking.
  The longer a secret agent remains 
  undercover, the more suspicion he draws—not 
  from the secret society, but from his superiors 
  who (in theory) closely monitor his reports. 
  They worry constantly about blowback. The 
  agent has spent so much time among traitors, 
  their logic goes, the society may have ‘turned’ 
  the agent. They start giving the agent’s reports 
  excruciating scrutiny, and take any errors or 
  misstatements as evidence of subversion. An 
  otherwise extremely successful secret agent 
  who gets a little careless ﬁ ling his reports 
  may find his career abruptly cut off. Wily 
  agents, recognizing this threat, work hard to 
  orchestrate a dramatic ‘purge’ of their cell. 
  This usually ruins their cover, but it can get the 
  agent promoted out of his job.
  However, sometimes the agent is too 
  successful. Interrogation of the captured society 
  members opens a new line of investigation. 
  Well, who better to follow up—who knows 
  the society’s practices better—than...? So the 
  agent’s superiors construct yet another secret 
  identity (complete with all-new reconstructive 
  surgeries), and re-insert him for a second 
  round of inﬁ ltration.
  As a side note, secret agents who inﬁ ltrate 
  Psion had best be registered mutants in their 
  real identity if they enjoy breathing. That brazen 
  admission of treason is a sureﬁ re way not to 
  reach VIOLET.
  Getting caught
  Remember how an agent can blow his cover 
  simply by not acting like a RED Clearance 
  citizen? This usually just results in accusations 
  of insanity and resultant therapy. The real 
  danger for the agent is drawing suspicion from 
  his secret society. 
  The agent must ﬁ le regular reports, usually 
  via confession booth using a Computer-
  provided code that allows him to ﬁ le a voice 
  report. If the agent is bugged, or the booth 
  itself is compromised (nah, never happens), 
  the report may get back to his secret society, 
  with disastrous consequences. 
  Furthermore, the agent must carefully time 
  his reports. If IntSec invades the cell five 
  minutes after every visit Harold-R makes to 
  the confession booth, his fellow members may 
  grow suspicious.
  The level of suspicion depends strongly on 
  which secret society he joins. Class A (mostly 
  INDIGO
  AGENTS GETTING CAUGHT
  FRIEND COMPUTER DOES NOT PLAY DICE.
  harmless) societies tend to be comparatively 
  trusting, whereas PURGE and other dangerous 
  Class C societies are paranoid.
  Assuming he is not caught red-handed, an 
  exposed agent must evade assassination 
  attempts, frame-ups and traps, and survive long 
  enough to report the failure to his superiors. 
  If his superiors choose to acknowledge the 
  agent’s existence, and do not terminate him 
  outright, they can extract and debrief him. And 
  discipline him extensively. And give him more 
  surgery, and reassign him with a new cover 
  identity to a different sector.
  More dangerous than the embittered society 
  are the ordinary authorities of Alpha Complex. 
  All the usual worries a citizen has in belonging 
  to a society apply to the agent. Plus, if IntSec or 
  another authority catches him, the agent can’t 
  report in and seek extraction. Being caught by 
  the authorities doesn’t blow the agent’s cover, 
  so his superiors prefer him to tough out the 
  normal corrections. Afterward, he—or his clone 
  backup—can resume his duties. 
  An agent’s clone, upon decanting, must 
  undergo rush surgery to match the cover 
  identity. At least there’s an easy way to explain 
  the post-surgical scars and stitches to the 
  secret society: ‘IntSec interrogated me.’
  The Devin-R scenario
  Named after the cover identity of the 
  Troubleshooter who first recognized the 
  situation, this is an unfortunate consequence 
  of the miserly control of information in Alpha 
  Complex.
  Devin-R was a deep-cover secret agent who 
  had successfully inﬁ ltrated a Death Leopard 
  cell. Over several months he had garnered 
  their trust, and his reports were considered 
  satisfactory. However, Devin-R began to 
  suspect the other members of his cell were 
  pursuing mysterious agendas. He began 
  tailing them, planting surveillance devices and 
  conducting clandestine inquiries.
  Devin-R eventually discovered that every 
  single member of his cell was, in fact, an 
  INDIGO Clearance secret agent working to 
  infiltrate the secret society. None of them 
  were aware the others were agents, and due 
  to the carefully eliminated data trail, nobody 
  at IntSec had noticed all these agents were 
  ﬁ ling reports on each others’ cover identities. 
  Devin-R gathered enough evidence to prove 
  the situation to his superiors, and was promptly 
  promoted, while simultaneously causing the 
  extreme embarrassment and demotion of the 
  other agents involved, and their superiors. After 
  a politic interval to let the ruckus die down, his 
  superiors trumped up charges against Devin-R 
  and had him terminated and erased.
  Unfortunately, Devin-R’s situation was simply 
  the ﬁ rst time any secret agent had become 
  aware it had occurred. It has since been seen 
  a number of times, but statistical analyses 
  (and common sense, insofar as this concept 
  is applicable) suggest it occurs more often 
  than is recorded. High-clearance supervisors 
  seldom warn new secret agents to look out 
  for the Devin-R scenario, simply because it 
  makes everyone look stupid. Nonetheless, new 
  agents still hear rumors, and a folk wisdom of 
  sorts has grown around it.
  However unlikely, if a secret agent ﬁ nds 
  himself the victim of the Devin-R scenario, it 
  is widely agreed the best policy is to not do 
  what Devin-R did, but to keep quiet. Their 
  superiors would be eager to prevent further 
  embarrassments from entering the records. 
  Instead, smart agents in this position gather 
  extensive evidence—or rather, blackmail 
  material.
  In rare instances, the entire cell of secret 
  agents may open up to each other, and forge 
  an alliance of mutual beneﬁ t. The cell then 
  fragments, and each secret agent recruits 
  a new cell around himself which he can 
  subsequently betray to his superiors.
  The (presumed) payoff
  If the secret agent survives these hardships, 
  his superiors eventually recall him from the 
  undercover assignment. The recall usually 
  follows a pogrom of his cell, and IntSec 
  arranges for the agent’s cover identity to ‘die’ 
  in the process. The agent crosses his ﬁ ngers 
  that he doesn’t share his cover’s fate.
  Following his recovery, the Troubleshooter 
  undergoes cosmetic surgery to reverse 
  earlier alterations. While recuperating, he’s 
  extensively debriefed and carefully monitored 
  for signs of having been infected by long 
  contact with a traitorous organization. If 
  everything checks out, and if The Computer 
  remembers the Troubleshooter used to be 
  INDIGO Clearance—and really, could The 
  Computer ever forget? Does that sound even 
  remotely plausible?—the Troubleshooter 
  resumes his former life, where the promised 
  promotion to Security Clearance VIOLET will 
  soon follow. He hopes.
  
  114
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  R&D mad scientists
  by Allen Varney
  Each of 3–6 players (4–6 is best) becomes an 
  INDIGO Clearance R&D scientist of uncommon 
  brilliance, unjustly robbed of his rightful glory 
  and consequently ‘gone critical’.
  Before your players create characters, 
  give each of them a photocopy of the ‘R&D 
  motivations’ handout on the facing page. After 
  they have read it, read this aloud to them:
  All of you are scientists in Alpha 
  Complex. You’ve had a long career 
  serving The Computer in the Research 
  & Design service group, creating new 
  equipment and researching cool stuff 
  man was not meant to know. Now you 
  each run your own research lab.
  You are all of lofty INDIGO Security 
  Clearance, meaning The Computer 
  trusts you deeply. You are each about 
  to betray that trust to avenge a terrible 
  injustice visited upon you by one of 
  your fellow scientists.
  You each start with 25 valuable 
  Perversity points. You will spend 
  some of these precious Perversity 
  points in two pre-game auctions. In 
  both of these auctions, remember this 
  important point: Every point you bid, 
  whether you win or lose, is spent. The 
  points you bid are gone for good!
  In the ﬁ rst auction you bid points 
  for your Brilliance: the maximum 
  resources you can exert in your quest 
  for justice. The one who spends most 
  in the Brilliance auction is the most 
  gifted scientist. The rest of you are 
  ranked second-most-gifted to least 
  gifted, based on the points you bid. 
  More-brilliant scientists can procure 
  vital equipment more easily than can 
  less-brilliant scientists. Plus, you are 
  allowed to sneer at and patronize those 
  of lesser brilliance.
  Immediately after the Brilliance 
  auction, you will then bid for the right 
  to set your discovery’s Importance:
  the maximum glory you can achieve 
  in your quest. The player who bids the 
  most in the Importance auction has the 
  chance to achieve the most glorious 
  triumph over his rivals. The rest of 
  you can expect successively less 
  recognition, again ranked according 
  to the points you bid.
  After both these auctions are done, 
  the game will begin. If you still have 
  Perversity points left, you can spend 
  them during play to help your chances 
  to succeed, or to hinder your rivals, 
  just as in standard PARANOIA. You 
  can still earn more Perversity as usual, 
  by being entertaining.
  ■ Conducting the auctions
  Players may bid in any order and any number 
  of times per auction. All bids are public. All bids 
  must be in whole points, and each bidder must 
  bid at least one point higher than the previous 
  bidder. All points bid are spent, regardless 
  of whether the bidder wins. After each auction, 
  write down the ﬁ nal amount each player bid; 
  the totals are important.
  After the Brilliance auction but before 
  Importance, have each player describe his 
  scientist’s lofty intellectual dimension. The 
  highest Brilliance bidder describes his innate 
  intellect ﬁ rst; encourage glowing self-esteem 
  and supercilious boasts. Next the second-
  highest bidder speaks, and so on. Each player 
  after the ﬁ rst must describe his scientist’s 
  intelligence in lesser terms than the player 
  preceding him.
  Now conduct the Importance auction. You 
  may see much higher bids this time.
  Importance determines not only the potential 
  impact of the player’s discovery on Alpha 
  Complex, but also (unbeknownst to the 
  players) the magnitude of its deadliness. A 
  low-Importance discovery—a bid under ﬁ ve, 
  say—represents danger sufﬁ cient to take out 
  a few individuals or maybe a corridor. High-
  Importance discoveries (bids over 15) are 
  powerful enough to wipe out whole sectors, 
  the entire city, and even large swaths of a 
  continent. If a player bids all 25 Perversity 
  on Importance, his discovery can shatter the 
  Earth like an egg.
  Again, have each player in descending bid 
  order describe the illustrious signiﬁ cance of his 
  discovery. As before, each player after the ﬁ rst 
  must describe his discovery in lesser terms 
  than its predecessors.
  Creating scientist 
  characters
  After you conclude both auctions, have 
  the players generate INDIGO Clearance 
  characters in the R&D service group. Follow 
  the usual character creation procedure from 
  the PARANOIA rulebook, as modiﬁ ed by the 
  high-clearance ﬂ owchart at the end of Chapter 
  2 in this book. Each scientist has, in place 
  of the vital specialty Energy Weapons, any 
  Knowledge specialty. Ideally this specialty is 
  related to his discovery. This vital specialty’s 
  rating is the governing skill’s rating plus four.
  Each scientist’s service ﬁ rm is his own lab, 
  which he may name with your approval. Ask 
  the players to describe their labs, with histories 
  and reputations. Encourage rivalries among 
  the labs, because they’ve all been competing 
  hard for The Computer’s research funding.
  ■ Lab minions (‘you 
  incompetent imbeciles!’)
  Like all PARANOIA player characters, each 
  scientist PC has six skills. In this game, a 
  scientist’s skill ratings measure not only that 
  PC’s individual abilities, but also the number, 
  competence and loyalty of the PC’s trusted 
  assistants—his minions.
  An INDIGO Clearance scientist does not go 
  mucking about with minor details of logistics 
  and assembly. Instead, he entrusts these to 
  a few, or many, minions. Some of these are 
  workers in his lab. Some are secret society 
  contacts. Some may be thugs hired out of 
  the corridor.
  When he wants to accomplish something, 
  the scientist’s player rolls against his own 
  personal skill and specialty ratings to represent 
  his minions’ performance. Each skill represents 
  a different kind of minion(s):
  � Management: Administrators, 
  marketers, con artists, bureaucrats
  � Stealth: Spies, forgers, covert operatives 
  skilled in service-ﬁ rm espionage and 
  skullduggery
  � Violence: Thugs, goons, assassins
  [continued on page 116] 
  
  Discovery = Immortality!
  —grafﬁ to found on the wreckage 
  of Experiment 3847B
  R&D is ﬁ lled with crackpots, traitors looking 
  for the easy life and lifetime bureaucrats, but 
  its most dangerous denizens are its dedicated 
  scientists. They realize a simple truth: In 
  Alpha Complex, scientiﬁ c breakthroughs are 
  a citizen’s best shot at immortality. In a world 
  where the ofﬁ cial history changes every three 
  minutes or so, names of units of measure 
  must remain consistent to ensure survival. 
  Otherwise reactors go critical, people get run 
  over and ULTRAVIOLETs get 500x the lethal 
  amount of radiation during dental visits.
  The names of units and phenomena have 
  survived since Old Reckoning times: joules, 
  roentgens, watts. That, citizen, is immortality!
  What are scientists willing to do to leave this 
  legacy? Blackmail, bribe, sabotage, kill and 
  drive themselves (and everyone around them) 
  to the end of their clone line.
  The treasonous cycles of a dedicated 
  scientist’s life fall into two categories: Pre-
  Breakthrough and Post-Breakthrough.
  ■ Pre-Breakthrough
  An INDIGO scientist is in charge of a high-
  tech lab investigating the fringes of scientiﬁ c 
  knowledge. Dozens of other INDIGO scientists 
  are doing the same thing. Because the honor 
  goes to the first person who discovers it, 
  rivalries are even more intense than on a 
  Troubleshooting team. Any scientist who wants 
  the newest particle discovered in his lab must 
  deal with the following:
  � Overdrive: PLC laborers have nothing 
  on these guys. Lab assistants grind 
  20-hour days, building and testing 
  prototypes. Outside complaints about 
  worker abuse stop when they meet the 
  head of the lab: a frazzled, jittery man 
  with bags under his eyes who’s been 
  up for four days, scribbling equations 
  all over the walls and surviving solely 
  on BBB. After all, he who ﬁ nishes ﬁ rst 
  wins, and they aren’t going to let a little 
  thing like mortality get in the way.
  This explains why R&D equipment 
  is pushed onto the field for testing 
  so fast. Some researchers eschew 
  self-preservation entirely, manning 
  prototypes or injecting themselves with 
  experimental drugs when deadlines and 
  paranoia loom.
  � Theft: Why spend precious hours 
  gathering experimental data when you 
  can use some other sucker’s instead? 
  Scientists must watch out for envious 
  rivals and bitter lab assistants eager for 
  their piece of fame.
  � Sabotage: An old standby. Sabotage 
  is often a retaliation for theft, inasmuch 
  as only the original designers know the 
  workings well enough to deeply but 
  undetectably screw them up.
  � Assassination: Some scientists, wary 
  of rivals or underlings stealing ideas, 
  keep everything in their head. MemoMax 
  transfers don’t do well transmitting such 
  detailed knowledge, and a well-placed 
  laser could set research back months. 
  Some rivals go for the gusto and try 
  to drive their competitors to early 
  erasure.
  ■ Post-Breakthrough
  Once a scientist has discovered a breakthrough, 
  it’s on to the hard part: getting it accepted by The 
  Computer and high-clearance authorities.
  ■ Review
  Almost every service group gets its mitts on 
  experimental equipment before it goes public. 
  Tech Services and Power Services review it 
  for compatibility, PLC reviews its production, 
  HPD&MC reviews its advertising potential, 
  IntSec reviews it for abuse by traitors.... 
  Rivalries or bureaucracy can bring the 
  product’s acceptance to a screeching halt.
  Abstract particle theory doesn’t do much 
  better; such papers are reviewed by fellow 
  R&D scientists, who not only disagree with 
  the ﬁ ndings but hate the discoverer himself. 
  No wonder so many scientists prefer to work 
  on experimental equipment instead.
  Either way, absent lots of bribes and secret 
  society pull, product review and acceptance 
  can easily take ﬁ ve to ten years. Some theories 
  aren’t accepted until long after their creators 
  die of old age.
  ■ Credit
  Reaching INDIGO Clearance doesn’t protect a 
  scientist from attack from above. His VIOLET 
  superior can steal the credit for his discovery, 
  even if the thief couldn’t tell a proton from a 
  photon. Careful and patient scientists wait 
  until they have two discoveries and bribe 
  their superior, offering him one discovery in 
  exchange for letting them keep the other. 
  Others blackmail their manager, either by 
  gathering incriminating evidence or threatening 
  to give the discovery to a more generous 
  manager.
  The unluckiest and most impolitic scientists 
  of all get screwed royally, their lifetime 
  accomplishments stolen, their new unit of 
  measurement unjustly named for a rival or a 
  VIOLET executive. These unlucky ones may 
  go mad with bitterness, and vow revenge on 
  their superiors, R&D, and possibly the entire 
  Complex. In R&D talk, they’ve ‘gone critical’.
  That’s you.
  —Jeff Groves
  They called you mad! They called you a hopeless lunatic!
  For too long you have suffered in silence, but your silent suffering will soon be silent no longer! You 
  will suffer loudly! – Or, that is, you’ll stop suffering, and everyone who opposed you, everyone—the 
  thieves and betrayers, the skulking cold-smiling mediocrities with their measured words and their 
  ill-smelling talk of ‘proper conduct’ and their faintly antiseptic saliva—everyone will suffer loudly 
  instead, as you have suffered all too long, except in silence!
  Anyway. Where were we? Oh yes—they called you mad. They were right.
  CLEARANCE INDIGO
  PLAYER HANDOUT
  R&D scientist motivations
  For use with the PARANOIA roleplaying game. From the supplement Extreme PARANOIA. Copyright ©2005 Eric Goldberg and Greg Costikyan. All Rights 
  Reserved. Reproduction for other than personal use is treason punishable by termination. Find more PARANOIA stuff at www.mongoosepublishing.com.
  
  116
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  � Hardware: Mechanical engineers, bots 
  and bot technicians
  � Software: Programmers, hackers, 
  workers skilled in obtaining software
  � Wetware: Biochemists, cloning techs, 
  specialists in psychological duress, 
  workers who use a lot of test tubes
  The player should roleplay the minion(s) 
  he sends to accomplish a task. Multiple rolls 
  against the same skill can represent using 
  the same minion multiple times, or different 
  minions each time, as the player prefers.
  ■ Choosing a revenge plot
  Each player randomly selects one of the other 
  players as the chief betrayer who stole his 
  offended scientist’s rightful glory.
  Write each PC’s name on a separate slip 
  of paper. Remove one character from the 
  stack and let that PC’s player choose a name 
  randomly from the rest. Repeat for all players, 
  making sure no player chooses his own PC.  
  Each scientist should seek revenge on one 
  other PC, and each also should be the object 
  of exactly one PC’s remorseless vengeance.
  What is each aggrieved victim’s motive 
  for revenge? Leave this to the victim’s and 
  offender’s players to improvise, in the event 
  they roleplay their confrontation. The rule is, 
  whatever one of the two asserts, the other 
  must accept as fact. However, he can then 
  embroider on, offer extenuating circumstances 
  for, or point out the other’s sadly misguided 
  interpretation of the fact.
  ■ The doomsday device
  Each scientist conceives a dramatic and lethal 
  gesture of revenge and, to that end, develops a 
  terrible weapon—a doomsday device—based 
  on the scientiﬁ c discovery he made for which 
  he was cruelly, callously, unjustly denied 
  credit.
  To enact his hideous scheme, each scientist 
  must collect certain components, essential 
  requirements for his particular doomsday 
  device. The chart explains the kinds of tasks 
  required to secure the components, and the 
  types of minions a scientist may send to 
  acquire them.
  Photocopy the ‘Nefarious doomsday device 
  chart’ (below) and give out copies to all players. 
  Ensure they understand the chart.
  Each player secretly chooses one method 
  from the chart, writes it on a slip of paper and 
  passes it to you.
  The road to apocalypse
  Run the game as a series of turns. In each turn, 
  each player may try to acquire one component 
  for his device. Two or more players trying for 
  the same category of component in a turn must 
  contest for ownership of the component.
  [continued from page 114]
  Nefarious doomsday device chart
  The game proceeds in turns. A turn represents an indeﬁ nite interval of a few days to a month. In each turn you try to secure one indispensable 
  component for your unspeakable doomsday device. If you fail to secure the component in one turn, you must try again in a later turn.
  You need one component from each of three general categories: logistics (transport, containment vessels, software, etc), materiel 
  (specialized mechanisms, chemicals and tools) and power (exotic energy sources). The three components you seek are rare, highly 
  specialized and delicate, and each originates from a single source. Each is vital to your device. When you have all three, then... then...!
  REVENGE METHOD!
  LOGISTICS!
  MATERIEL!
  POWER!
  Android army, unstoppable
  Mngmt, Hardware, Software
  Stealth, Wetware 
  Violence
  Blob, horriﬁ c all-consuming
  Hardware
  Management, Wetware
  Stealth, Violence, Software
  Bomb, antimatter
  Stealth, Software
  Mngmt, Violence, Hardware
  Wetware
  Death ray, annihilating
  Violence, Wetware
  Software
  Mngmt, Stealth, Hardware
  Earthquake machine
  Mngmt, Stealth, Wetware
  Violence
  Hardware, Software
  Robot, rampaging giant
  Violence
  Stealth, Hardware, Software
  Management, Wetware
  The skills listed under each category represent the minions you can send to secure that component. You have six trusted minions or 
  groups of minions, one for each of your six skills (Management, Stealth, Violence, Hardware, Software, Wetware). Each minion specializes 
  in the skill associated with him. Improvise these minions as needed, with the Gamemaster’s approval. Roleplay them as the GM requires. 
  The minions have skill ratings equal to your rating in the governing skill.
  Example: You have a Software skill rating of 7. You have a trusted hacker minion you send on Software-related errands; he has skill 
  ratings of 7, because your Software is 7.
  The table lists the type of task required to secure a given component, and the type of minion you can send. For instance, if the table entry 
  says ‘Hardware’, you must send your most capable bots or hardware technicians to acquire the component. If it lists multiple skills, you can 
  send a minion associated with any one of the listed skills. You can never send minions associated with more than one skill at a time.
  Work with your GM to improvise the speciﬁ c component you need, as well as the method of securing it that requires the listed skill.
  
  117
  INDIGO
  R&D MAD SCIENTISTS
  SOON YOU’LL SEE! YOU’LL ALL SEE! AND THEN YOU’LL BE  SORRY!
  A player who has successfully acquired one 
  of each type of component—Logistics, Materiel 
  and Power—can then construct his doomsday 
  device. That’s assuming his minions haven’t 
  screwed up and his rival scientists haven’t 
  purloined his stuff.
  ■ Steps of the turn
  ■ 1. Select target component
  At the start of each turn, each player chooses 
  the one component he wants to acquire this 
  turn, and decides which minion he will send 
  on this errand. The scientist can either attempt 
  to secure a Logistics, Materiel or Power 
  component using the chart, or can try to steal a 
  component from another player (see ‘Stealing 
  components’ below).
  A scientist who has no minion appropriate to 
  the errand can instead send a Troubleshooter 
  team. See ‘Troubleshooter teams’ below.
  Players decide in order of lowest Brilliance  to 
  highest. The least Brilliant scientist commits his 
  minion—publicly, for all players to hear—then 
  the second-least Brilliant, and so on. The most 
  Brilliant scientist chooses last.
  ■ 2. Conﬂ icts?
  Don’t tell the players this until they’ve 
  committed to their ﬁ rst-turn choices: If two or 
  more scientists try to secure the same type 
  of component in a turn (Logistics, Materiel or 
  Power), their minions encounter each other at 
  the scene. It turns out they’re seeking the same 
  component. They struggle for ownership.
  Stage the encounter by having each player 
  roleplay his minion. Set the scene using the 
  players’ suggestions. (You can also use the 
  mission blender booklet in the PARANOIA 
  Gamemaster’s Screen.)
  Based on the players’ roleplaying and 
  the circumstances, resolve the conflict as 
  a free-for-all contest (see Chapter 21 in the 
  PARANOIA rulebook). Each minion rolls 
  against his own rating (the rating of the 
  scientist’s associated skill). Whoever wins by 
  the largest margin secures the component. If all 
  minions fail, no one gets the component.
  A minion who fails the contest roll is 
  arrested for treason and is out of the game. 
  The scientist cannot use the associated skill in 
  any later attempt.
  ■ 3. Resolve other attempts
  After resolving the conflicts, resolve the 
  remaining, uncontested minion attempts. 
  Make a hidden skill roll against the scientist’s 
  associated skill rating. For instance, if the 
  minions are Hardware specialists, roll against 
  the PC’s Hardware skill rating. Success means 
  the scientist procures the component; a small 
  margin of failure means the scientist must try 
  again on a later turn.
  A large margin of failure means the minions 
  bring back the component, but unknown to 
  the scientist, it’s defective. The scientist can 
  use it in his doomday device, but the defect 
  causes the device to malfunction, perhaps 
  catastrophically. See ‘Revenge’ below.
  ■ 4. Commence revenge?
  If any scientist has secured three components—
  one Logistics, one Materiel and one Power—he 
  can try to activate his doomsday device and 
  wreak havoc on the object of his revenge. See 
  ‘Revenge’ below.
  ■ Troubleshooters teams
  When a minion dies, the scientist cannot 
  use that skill in later attempts to secure any 
  component. A desperate scientist who lacks 
  any appropriate skill to secure a component can 
  instead resort to—oh, no—a Troubleshooter 
  team.
  The INDIGO scientist trumps up a plausible 
  traitor-hunting mission that just happens to 
  involve securing the component he needs. 
  He puts the mission in the Troubleshooter 
  Dispatch queue and crosses his ﬁ ngers.
  Time permitting, you may have the players 
  roleplay the Troubleshooter team. Either 
  improvise the PCs on the ﬂ y, or use any group 
  of RED Clearance Troubleshooter characters 
  from published missions, such as the handy 
  ‘six-shooter’ packs of pregenerated characters 
  in the Crash Priority supplement.
  The player who dispatched the team 
  becomes team leader, working in the certain 
  knowledge that other team members directly 
  oppose the team’s success. But really, how 
  does that differ from a standard mission?
  If you prefer not to roleplay the team, resolve 
  the attempt as an Arbitrary Justice roll, using 
  the scientist’s Brilliance as a target number. Let 
  everyone spend Perversity on this roll!
  If the team succeeds in the mission, the 
  dispatching scientist gets his component. 
  If not—well, there’s always another 
  Troubleshooter team on a later turn.... 
  ■ Stealing components
  A scientist who dares not rely on minions or 
  Troubleshooters can always try theft. The 
  scientist announces the target player he 
  wants to steal from. For stooges who commit 
  the theft, the thief can send either a Stealth 
  or Violence minion or a Troubleshooter team. 
  The target can defend against the attempted 
  theft with any minion (except a minion already 
  committed elsewhere this turn) or even himself, 
  armed with all the weaponry an INDIGO R&D 
  scientist can bring to bear.
  Stage the theft attempt as a contest between 
  thief and target, in the same way as other  
  contests (see ‘2. Conflicts?’ under ‘Steps 
  of the turn’ above). If the thief’s minion fails 
  the roll, not only is the minion lost, but the 
  thieving scientist is convicted of treason and 
  brainscrubbed. Colleagues regard the target 
  with newfound interest. The thieving scientist 
  loses one point of Brilliance and the target 
  gains one point of Brilliance.If the target 
  INDIGO defends himself personally and loses, 
  he marks off a clone number but is otherwise 
  unaffected.
  Revenge
  A scientist who procures all three components 
  can try on the same turn to activate his 
  device. Encourage the player to describe this 
  theatrically, with cackling and Tesla coils.
  Then make a hidden 1d20 roll. If the PC’s 
  minions had previously brought him defective 
  parts, ignore the roll and describe the device’s 
  embarrassing failure. (See ‘3. Resolve other 
  attempts’ under ‘Steps of the turn’ above.) The 
  scientist can analyze the problem, secure a 
  replacement next turn, and try again.
  If no components are defective, compare the 
  1d20 roll to the scientist’s Importance. If the 
  roll is higher than Importance, the device looks 
  impressive but needs tuning or tinkering, and 
  the scientist must try again next turn.
  A result less than or equal to Importance 
  means the device performs effectively for the 
  rest of the game. The player names a target, 
  presumably the hated rival who stole his rightful 
  glory. If the target has no doomsday device 
  ready, he perishes ignominiously.
  If the target’s doomsday device is already 
  active, there is a titanic battle among all 
  working devices. Stage this as a free-for-all 
  using rolls against the devices’ Importance. 
  The worst-performing device in the battle is 
  destroyed, and its scientist with it.
  The ﬁ rst scientist to successfully execute his 
  revenge wins the game. Assuming no one has 
  blown up the Earth, you may wish to continue 
  playing until everyone has achieved revenge 
  or failed.
  
  Are we there yet?
  After a lifetime or four of climbing the ladder, 
  the life of a VIOLET is very much like the life 
  of an INFRARED. The VIOLET Clearance 
  citizen lives in a world of ease where he 
  need desire nothing. Everything is provided: 
  safety, lodging, entertainment, everything, 
  all guaranteed.
  VIOLET citizens are like INFRAREDs in 
  another way: Both are obsessed with ways 
  to game the system—for INFRAREDs, the 
  enormous volumes of precedent and rules 
  they don’t have access to; for VIOLETs, the 
  whims and ideas of the ULTRAVIOLETs, 
  which, as you may guess, they don’t have 
  access to. Nobody but ULTRAVIOLETs know 
  how you become an ULTRAVIOLET, and 
  typically once someone becomes one, that 
  avenue is immediately closed off.
  Hence VIOLETs are the most neurotically random and 
  unpredictably pressured citizens in Alpha Complex. Their every 
  waking moment is devoted to trying to ﬁ gure out what is the 
  secret, the key, the magic trick that gets them into that ﬁ nal, 
  topmost tier. Like a caterpillar devouring a leaf to fuel its self-spun 
  chrysalis, they will utterly consume all resources required to get 
  them over that last hurdle.
  There is, however, one major difference between the life of a 
  VIOLET and the life of an INFRARED. When you’re an INFRARED, 
  nobody wants to be where you are. When you’re a VIOLET, 
  everybody does, and the only way to do it is by ﬁ lling your boots. 
  As a result, VIOLET citizens tend to either give up ambition and 
  ﬁ nd a safe niche well protected by an ULTRAVIOLET patron, ﬁ nd 
  the elusive secret to getting promoted or burn out and get clawed 
  back down by the waiting throngs of INDIGOs.
  For your players, put on the pressure from the INDIGO citizens. 
  Remember that INDIGOs have seen it all and done most of it, 
  and have access to nearly as many resources as VIOLET citizens 
  themselves. Then add in the paranoia of other VIOLETs. Nobody 
  wants to share information in case that last bit might be the 
  missing link to make the ﬁ nal leap to ULTRAVIOLET. At the same 
  time, they all spy on each other to see if they can get a leg up. 
  VIOLETs who don’t seem to be doing much probably get the most 
  scrutiny of all, and we’re talking about people who can mobilize 
  entire sectors and secret societies.
  Hey, at least it keeps everybody busy.
  VIOLET contents 
  Dossier: Marisol-V-FRL-7 
  (Eric Minton) 
  119
  Troubleshooters: Personal assistants 
  (Joshua Moretto) 
  120
  VIOLET variety 
  (Dan Curtis Johnson) 
  121
  VIOLET secret society life 
  (Gareth Hanrahan) 
  122
  Executives (Dan Curtis Johnson) 122
  High Programmer’s view 
  (Bill O’Dea) 
  128
  Salary: 600,000 cr/month
  Food: Huge Hollywood-scale dinner 
  parties catered by a GREEN master 
  chef. (You fought hard to get your chef, 
  and you constantly fend off marauding 
  rivals who want to spirit him away.)
  Housing: A subsector or more.
  Transport: Many autocars, 
  truckbots, private ﬂ ybots and maybe 
  a sub; full motorcade with IntSec 
  escort.
  Staff: Full human staff. (Bots 
  are so working-class.) You hardly 
  ever encounter anyone YELLOW or 
  lower.
  Authority: May promote to and 
  demote from INDIGO or lower. May 
  order summary executions and erasure 
  of clone templates.
  Perks: You see this sector? It’s 
  yours. You don’t go to managers; they 
  come to you. You can freely say almost 
  anything short of outright Commie 
  propaganda. ‘Internal Security? Oh, 
  you mean my staff police.’
  Demographic: At most one-tenth of 
  1% of the population, probably much 
  less; no more than a dozen in even a 
  large sector.
  EXTREME VIOLET
  Typical VIOLET jobs
  CEOs, generals, majordomo to a 
  UV’s estate, supervisors of a UV’s 
  operations; IntSec chief supervisor; 
  Free Enterprise society capos, 
  Machine Empaths.
  
  Proﬁ leNet :: Internal Security :: Department of Offender and At-Risk Tracking
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   CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN  CLEARANCE GREEN 
  Dossier: Marisol-V-FRL-7
  ACTIVITIES & AFFILIATIONS
  Activities: Overtime work: at service ﬁ rm, at service group; off-the-record negotiation 
  with other high-clearance citizens; visiting scenic Power Services facilities; 
  day trading; reading
  Afﬁ liations: GoodFusion (CEO), Power Services Group (COO); Power & Trafﬁ c Network-
  ing Group; extensive service ﬁ rm portfolio (see records)
  Network of conspirators — see ﬁ le 7843-8754-8178-5454
   
  IntSec inﬁ ltrated!  do not distribute
  TREASONS & COMMENDATIONS
  Treasons: None listed for current clone (see records); purged by order of IntSecCom 
  — msg. me for details
  Commendations: See attached ﬁ le: Commendations -> Marisol-V-FRL-7
  GENETIC PROFILE & CREDIT RATING
  Genetic Proﬁ le: Class 40X/91r4; no anomalies found. 45% chance Machine Empa-
  thy!!!  98%+ Hypersenses — prob. also Bureaucratic Intuition or Deep 
  Thought
  Credit Rating: 
  24-VIOLET (388,463cr); over 30 mil in gray accounts, plasticred
  ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
  No known secret society membership. Contacts in FCCC-P, Free Enterprise. (see 
  records)
  Known member of FCCC-P, Free Enterprise.  85% chance Psion.  Possibly Illuminati?  
  —  contact Brother 4 in TreasEst. Intermittent cessation of hormone suppressants 
  — maritally linked with Jordan-V-FHI-12. Four-month deletion of records in year 202 
  suggests impregnation, biological offspring.
  ANALYSIS
  Primary drive: compulsive work ethic. Secondary drive: Loyalty to The Computer 
  and Alpha Complex.
  Primary drive: sadism!!  Secondary drive: cover own ass  — see sealed records for 
  nuclear facility RON-372/B.
  RECOMMENDATIONS & COMMENTS
  Threat level: none. Take no action.
  Comments: [[ EXTREMELY DANGEROUS!!  Pass word to Sister 26 in Gray Ops 
  – initiate protocol CHAIN-7 ]]
  Reference #: 437-84-783-239
  [Last Update: 214.04.20 11:30]
  Name: Marisol-V-FRL-7
  Decantationdate: 163.04.30
  Service group: Power Services
  Service ﬁ rm: GoodFusion
  Occupation: Chief Executive Ofﬁ cer
  Last known location: GLD Sector, 
  Subsector 00A, Room 07-a
  Height: 175.2 cm
  Weight: 70 kg
  VIOLET Clearance
  
  120
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Security Clearance VIOLET—the big time. Top of the heap, top 
  of the food chain… almost. At this rariﬁ ed height, rewards are 
  immense, dangers equally so. VIOLETs live in the shadow of the 
  ULTRAVIOLET High Programmers, and the rare Troubleshooter 
  who survives to reach this level is their greatest threat. After all, no 
  other route to power is as fast, ruthless and, above all, dangerous. 
  Anyone still alive with a viable clone template has to be considered 
  one of the most clever, devious, cutthroat and deadly people alive. 
  Either that, or preposterously lucky. Whichever it may be, such 
  Troubleshooters are High Programmers waiting to happen, and 
  ULTRAVIOLETs don’t like to share. So what is in store for these 
  walking targets?
  As the saying goes, keep your friends close, and your enemies 
  closer. UVs often draft VIOLET Clearance Troubleshooters as their 
  personal assistants – sometimes singly, more often as a team. 
  Teams, stymied by inﬁ ghting, tend to keep any one VIOLET from 
  mounting a serious bid for the High Programmer’s job. In the best 
  case, the UV can use the Troubleshooters to take out some of his 
  rivals, get them promoted in place of the fallen foes, and have new 
  allies who owe him a favor.
  Of course, High Programmers didn’t reach their positions by 
  being fools. If all they wanted was to prevent competition from 
  rising from below, there’s 42,376 ways to eliminate the threat before 
  it even gets close. (The full list appears in Mervin-U-GTN-11’s 
  bestselling management handbook Keeping the Bastards Down, 
  54th edition). A VIOLET Clearance Troubleshooter has power and 
  authority second only to the High Programmers themselves, and 
  as such make an extremely useful, if dangerous, tool. Personal 
  assistants are the ULTRAVIOLET’s right hand (or hands – some 
  High Programmers have such well-worn clone templates, you 
  never know). The UV tasks them with all his highest-level plots, 
  plans, and goals. They are his spymasters, gophers, assassins 
  and eventually his patsies, but never his bodyguards. No High 
  Programmer is that crazy.
  ■ Bennies
  � VIOLET personal assistants enjoy comforts above even other 
  VIOLET citizens. They have access to many of the High 
  Programmer’s resources (although the UV carefully monitors 
  them); they speak with his authority (or at least the listeners 
  assume so); and in their ofﬁ cial capacity Troubleshooters 
  have license to investigate the underlings, and by association 
  the plans, of their peers. Still, if they try it, call for a few 
  Chutzpah rolls.
  � The Computer grants personal assistants a certain leniency 
  not even other VIOLETs enjoy. If the assistant is carrying out 
  ofﬁ cial Troubleshooter business, The Computer overlooks or 
  gently corrects actions that would usually draw probation or 
  worse. Even in serious circumstances, the ULTRAVIOLET 
  may step in and dismiss any charges brought against his 
  assistants. They may be dangerous tools, but they are still 
  useful, and High Programmers won’t let others take them 
  away.
  � VIOLET Troubleshooters have their own staff, INDIGO 
  Clearance and down, and these staffers have staffers 
  of their own. Troubleshooters become well versed in the 
  puppetmastery required to advance. 
  � Finally, being a personal assistant puts you close to your 
  target. Despite the constant scrutiny, the danger of betrayal, 
  the zealous and competitive peers, and the omnipresent 
  possibility of being squashed like a bug, a personal assistant 
  has access to the UV himself that maybe, just maybe, will 
  provide one good opportunity… or one clear shot.
  ■ Slaps
  � The life of a VIOLET personal assistant is a merry-go-round 
  with a broken throttle: fast, stomach-churning and dangerous, 
  but with the brass ring ever present. Of course, reaching 
  for that same brass ring are your fellow VIOLET personal 
  assistants. An assistant’s life is like those competitive reality 
  TV shows: you’re on a team, but you’re also each trying to 
  win the big prize, and that means accomplishing the team’s 
  goals while simultaneously picking your teammates off one 
  by one. But in this case the losers don’t get a lucrative run on 
  the talk-show circuit.
  � Life at the top means being a clear target for the ambitious. 
  Beneath each VIOLET Troubleshooter are all the teeming 
  masses, INDIGO Troubleshooters especially, gunning for his 
  job. 
  � Being a rook or queen in the High Programmer’s chess game 
  is well and good, most of the time: you’re powerful, feared, and 
  even protected. Protected, that is, until the High Programmer 
  decides to sacriﬁ ce you to achieve some larger goal. Or 
  because he’s bored. Or he doesn’t like your haircut.
  � Security clearance VIOLET is a glass ceiling. Everyone wants 
  to reach it, but nobody knows how to advance from it. ‘Making 
  room at the top’ seems an obvious method, but works like 
  ﬁ ghting a tank with a toothpick. So the VIOLET Troubleshooter 
  climbs this high, then stalls within sight of the goal. With his 
  nose constantly rubbed in his superior’s lifestyle, he may 
  become prone to obsessive envy.
  � Got a plan to get rid of your master and supplant him? You’ve 
  worked it out in minute detail, covered all your bases, set 
  everything up? Whoa, who would have guessed your UV 
  master knew all along? This is the ultimate pain of personal 
  assistance: Your master is your enemy, and he is one of the 
  most devious, cunning and (in all likelihood) sadistic people 
  in Alpha Complex. Enjoy your brainscrub.
  —Joshua Moretto
  ■ Troubleshooters: Personal assistants to a High Programmer
  
  121
  VIOLET
  THINGS TO BUY
  ■ Drugs and recreation
  ■ Ouija Board: 250cr 
  (ILLEGAL! Medication if caught)
  This mysterious device of the Old Reckoning allows one to contact and 
  receive advice from those who have been terminated!
  ■ Service group show 
  VIP invitation: 500 – 2,500cr
  Why settle for sporting events and concerts when you can attend an 
  Armed Forces war-games demonstration, an R&D tech festival or 
  Internal Security interrogation marathon? See all the top service ﬁ rms 
  compete to show their very best work!
  ■ Club Sunn vacation: 5,000cr per day
  When it’s time to really get away from it all, take a relaxing trip to this 
  resort community on the far edge of the complex, where the very best 
  of the Outdoors is perfectly simulated indoors! Walk among actual 
  trees, see real animals and even feel real sunlight coming through the 
  protective glass. Top pyschotherapists available immediately after any 
  upsetting animal encounter.
  ■ Hygiene and maintenance
  ■ ToppDogg pheroﬂ uid: 225cr
  Even though most citizens are chemically subdued, they’ll still 
  subconsciously respond to the oxytocin hormone and pheremones in 
  this handy spray. It’s like having the Charm mutation without all that 
  icky mutation!
  ■ Universal Access Tool: 3,500cr
  The micro-assemblers inside can analyze any situation and project the 
  correct tool from within the unit: wrenches, screwdrivers, power drills, 
  keys—you name it! Always have the right solution at hand.
  ■ Clothing and accessories
  ■ Megashades: 750cr
  The ultimate in eyewear, these designer sunglasses can stream up to 64 
  simultaneous sources of information directly into your peripheral vision at 
  all times. Keep tabs on security cameras, market data, sporting events, 
  sector news and more, while looking your stylish best!
  ■ AnyWear: 8,000cr
  The ultimate executive uniform: a single suit that can modify itself into 
  dozens of different forms, from industrial work jumper to sleek formal 
  event wear. It can even change security clearance color for those 
  ‘incognito’ times.
  ■ Survival and technology
  ■ Terrain maps: 250cr per square km 
  (ILLEGAL! Censure if caught)
  The Outdoors is big, but all of it within reasonable reach of Alpha 
  Complex has been mapped within the last 20 years or so. Some maps 
  even include indications of surviving Old Reckoning structures, known 
  secret society enclaves and other ‘features of interest’. 
  ■ Genetic tester: 6,000cr
  Though no known test is 100% reliable in detecting mutations, this 
  mobile cart is able to identify more than 300 different genetic markers 
  that have been linked to higher-than-normal mutation rates.
  ■ Tracking dust: 15,000cr per tracer; 
  40,000cr for tracker
  Just toss one of these tiny grain-sized bots onto your employee’s 
  uniform, where it will record video of their surroundings for up to 16 hours 
  before expiring. The tracker uploads the recordings remotely, as well as 
  telling you exactly where all your tracers are in the complex.
  ■ Refurbished reactor: 30,000 – 60,000cr
  Because your growing service ﬁ rm has growing power needs. Be sure 
  to buy plenty of ‘optional’ warranty coverage as well!
  ■ Services
  ■ Internal Security raid: 10,000 – 50,000cr
  You can worry about what the charges are later. For now, just get your 
  opponents safely restrained and unconscious!
  VIOLET variety
  What do you give the citizen who has everything? That’s a good question, because 
  unfortunately the one thing you still want, you can’t have yet. However, if you can 
  ﬁ nd some balance in your life, the perks at the top are mighty ﬁ ne. Enjoy ’em while 
  they last.
  NEW AND IMPROVED COLD FUN—NOW WITH LOWER CARBS!
  
  122
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  ■ VIOLET secret society life
  VIOLETs and ULTRAVIOLETs are too valuable to their societies 
  to risk on minor missions. VIOLETs gather information and 
  subtly inﬂ uence policy in favor of the society. An ULTRAVIOLET 
  sponsor for a society is a huge advantage, so the VIOLETs are 
  coddled and protected in hopes they’ll advance.
  This is often where it all goes horribly, horribly wrong; 
  formerly loyal and motivated society members get lazy and 
  corrupt during their VIOLET prince-in-waiting time. Fighting for 
  International Communism/Mutant Superiority/The Overthrow of 
  The Computer—whatever cause that was so important when a 
  citizen was sitting in a dank INFRARED barracks whispering to 
  other conspirators—now seems so dull and so hard when lying 
  on a real leather sofa in a luxurious VIOLET mansion being fed 
  real grapes by a host of nubile and hormonally-unsuppressed 
  BLUE servants. These VIOLETs cause a great deal of headaches 
  for their societies, but the potential reward of an ULTRAVIOLET 
  ally makes the society endure the pain and the tantrums and the 
  unreasonable requests. INDIGO members must deal with most of 
  the VIOLETs’ requests, although sometimes an ULTRAVIOLET 
  may feel moved to discipline a troublesome VIOLET.
  Some VIOLETs spend more time manipulating their society 
  than serving it. VIOLET Romantics are the ones with the huge 
  collection of ancient artifacts; VIOLET Mystics are so far out 
  there they can see a whole new color spectrum. Even idealistic 
  societies like the Humanists can be wracked with corruption 
  at higher clearances. (Of course, higher clearance does not 
  necessarily mean higher society degree, but the chances of 
  a VIOLET not being promoted into the higher degrees are 
  vanishingly small, just like the lifespan of a lower-clearance 
  citizen who says ‘no’ to a VIOLET.)
  —Gareth Hanrahan
  Executives
  When the RED asks, ‘How can I advance?’ I tell them, ‘You must ﬁ nd 
  out what everyone else is hiding.’
  When the ORANGE asks, ‘How can I advance?’ I tell them, ‘You must 
  prevent everyone else from ﬁ nding out what you are hiding.’
  When the YELLOW asks, ‘How can I advance?’ I tell them, ‘You must 
  make others say YES when they meant to say NO.’
  When the GREEN asks, ‘How can I advance?’ I tell them, ‘You must 
  learn to make NO sound like you are saying YES.’
  When the BLUE asks, ‘How can I advance?’ I tell them, ‘You must 
  make it clear that you are able to handle all the power you can get.’
  When the INDIGO asks, ‘How can I advance?’ I tell them, ‘You must 
  make it clear that you have less power than everyone thinks.’
  But when the VIOLET asks, ‘How can I advance?’ I tell them, ‘Buddy, 
  if I knew the answer to that question, would I be sitting here, talking 
  to you?’ Then I shoot them through the head, because frankly, they’re 
  better off that way and I don’t need the competition.
  —excerpt from the treasonous Mystic document Zen and the Art of 
  Transbot Decoration (author identity classiﬁ ed ULTRAVIOLET)
  It’s all fun and games…
  A lot of people think ULTRAVIOLETs run Alpha Complex. Those 
  people—by and large, either low-clearance citizens or ULTRAVIOLETs—
  are basically wrong. The High Programmers don’t run Alpha Complex; 
  they’re too busy running The Computer.
  No, the day-to-day success (if that’s the word we want) of Alpha 
  Complex relies on the VIOLET ‘executive’ citizens, that one-tenth of 
  one percent who have somehow threaded the convoluted gauntlet of 
  PARANOIA life only to ﬁ nd themselves—many clones later—in charge 
  of the monolithic institutions that the other 99.9% feel like they’re being 
  ground up in. They are the military generals, the chief service ﬁ rm 
  ofﬁ cers and board members, the superstar media producers and the 
  top policymakers for every aspect of life. Depending on his service ﬁ rm, 
  a VIOLET citizen’s daily routine may include tasks like these:
  � Ordering Armed Forces into military action against enemy 
  complexes, internal rebellions and other foes both real and… 
  ‘potential’
  � Acting as judge in major Internal Security interrogations and 
  setting complex-wide security strategies based on classiﬁ ed 
  intelligence
  � Commissioning new programs for cutting-edge research and 
  reviewing bids from competing R&D subcontractors
  � Setting high-level goals for efﬁ ciency, to be implemented by the 
  lower-rank CPU bureaucracy, and analyzing the results
  � Identifying exploitable new markets that need products and 
  assigning PLC design teams to create those products
  � Making greenlight and cancellation decisions about HPD&MC vid 
  entertainment and choosing media campaign ‘look-and-feel’
  � Securing enormously lucrative Power or Technical Services 
  contracts to entire sectors at a time
  Unfortunately, being in charge of daily life in Alpha Complex means 
  there are no small problems. Everything is a potential crisis of epic 
  proportion. Every decision you make has ramiﬁ cations for hundreds, 
  even thousands of other citizens. The ﬁ nancial cost of a wrong choice 
  can be enormous. And the price of failure is almost always termination… 
  or worse.
  So you, as a VIOLET, have two choices: Find a niche where you are 
  shielded from the bad decisions you inevitably sometimes make, or 
  escape entirely by breaking into Alpha Complex’s equivalent of university 
  tenure, the ULTRAVIOLET ranks of the High Programmers. These two 
  career paths are colloquially known as ‘cruising’ and ‘crashing’.
  Either way, the key to success is delegation.
  by Dan Curtis Johnson
  
  123
  VIOLET
  EXECUTIVES
  ■ Almost like doing it 
  yourself
  Delegation is that magical tool that allows you 
  to be seen as having gotten a great many 
  things done, without having actually done 
  them yourself. In that beautiful mechanism 
  the hardest thing you need do, personally, 
  is ﬁ gure out what needs to be done. Some 
  citizens might say this is a terrible spot, 
  because it makes one responsible for failure 
  solely because underlings were incompetent 
  or careless. But the enlightened student of the 
  Greatest Art (career advancement) recognizes 
  this attitude’s error. This incorrect thinking is 
  typical among citizens who are bad at casting 
  blame upon the underlings who are to slow or 
  stupid to avoid taking the fall.
  In other words: To succeed, a VIOLET must 
  grab all the credit and shed all the fault.
  For the ‘cruiser’, delegation lets you deal with 
  crises in the vaguest terms possible, leaving 
  the hard work of implementation to underlings. 
  If things work out, your vague directions look 
  like masterful high-level planning; if they don’t, 
  well, it’s a shame your staff was unable to rise 
  to the challenge and needs to be ‘turned over’. 
  It’s rare that a VIOLET executive who is trying 
  to ‘cruise’ will personally roll up his sleeves and 
  directly solve a problem. No, the VIOLET way 
  of ‘solving’ a problem is to assign their BLUE 
  and INDIGO staff to it and wait for word it has, 
  in fact, been dealt with. The executive himself 
  remains removed from the problem, and can 
  pursue what really matters: completing his 
  collection of rare Old Reckoning postcards.
  For the ‘crasher’, on the other hand, 
  delegation means not having to spend 
  brainpower and energy on anything but ﬁ nding 
  the way to ULTRAVIOLET. This quest is a 
  full-time job.
  Lower security clearances have well-
  established regulations regarding advancement. 
  When you’re a RED Troubleshooter, a lot of 
  paths lead to ORANGE, and if you stay on 
  your toes, you’ll probably manage promotion 
  with only one or two lost clones.
  But there is no known protocol for becoming 
  an ULTRAVIOLET High Programmer. In fact, 
  nobody but the High Programmers themselves 
  know the criteria for joining their élite class. 
  Newly-promoted High Programmers never tell 
  their former peers how they did it. It is perhaps 
  unsurprising that, in a setting ruled by control 
  of information, the most classiﬁ ed info of all 
  is the key to the greatest power. Among all 
  the secret societies that lurk in the corridors 
  of Alpha Complex, the most powerful—and 
  most secret!—are the High Programmers 
  themselves.
  But crashers didn’t scratch their way to 
  the almost-top so they could reﬂ ect on irony. 
  They’re there to win, and they’ll do whatever 
  it takes. Policy decisions about the lives of 
  thousands of lesser citizens are a distraction; 
  a crasher needs all his time for seeking 
  out patrons and sponsors among the High 
  Programmers, throwing lavish events to 
  impress them, searching through ancient 
  archives for hints of past ascensions and 
  performing any random errand that might, 
  somehow, curry the favor of the True Élite.
  Both types of executive need the right people 
  working for them. ‘Right’, in this case, often 
  means people with skills appropriate for the 
  tasks. It can also mean people who will take 
  the fall for you. Unfortunately, in both cases 
  these are INDIGOs. 
  Though there are still a few naïve fools among 
  the BLUE ranks who can be easily motivated 
  and safely discarded later, few genuine idiots 
  make it to INDIGO, and absolutely every one 
  of them is jockeying for VIOLET. There are 
  only so many VIOLET positions, and a large 
  reservoir of INDIGO citizens who have what it 
  takes to advance. If we may be permitted to 
  take an analogy way too far: Every VIOLET 
  citizen is a swimmer surrounded by a sea 
  of circling INDIGO sharks. The moment the 
  swimmer slips, they will pull him down and tear 
  him apart. Crashers seek to escape this fate 
  by getting out of the water; cruisers simply try 
  to surf above the snapping jaws.
  But there are worse things than INDIGOs to 
  worry about. There are the ULTRAVIOLETs.
  ■ Several hundred 
  really bad parents
  Cruisers try to avoid High Programmers, 
  because they don’t want more demands made 
  on them. Crashers get as close as they can, 
  because being known among the program 
  groups is the only way to be nominated for 
  promotion. They think. Maybe.
  Of course, neither group gets what it wants. 
  The High Programmers are constantly sticking 
  their noses into VIOLET business when they’re 
  least wanted, but then they vanish when they 
  might actually be some help.
  ‘Sticking their nose in VIOLET business’ 
  means ‘injecting their random and unpredictable 
  ideas into situations that were already unstable, 
  bordering on explosive’. Your sector’s reactor 
  is two years beyond its scheduled retirement 
  date and technicians are warning you ‘she’s 
  gonna overload and melt real soon’? That’s 
  about the time an ULTRAVIOLET wants to 
  hold a ‘World of Atomic Light’ parade that 
  will add 400 gigawatts to your grid load. 
  Some mutant monstrosity busted out of your 
  research center and is roaming the halls eating 
  hapless citizens? An ULTRAVIOLET wants it 
  as a pet. Fungal bloom has destroyed 80% 
  of your current vat harvest and the stockpiles 
  of surplus food are rapidly dwindling? That’s 
  when the ULTRAVIOLETs decide the whole 
  BOOTLICKING: IT’S NOT JUST A SKILL, IT’S A WAY OF LIFE.
  Former Enron CEO Jeffrey Skilling appeared before Congress. Do you think they even bothered 
  swearing him in? Now he is denying he lied to Congress last week. He’s saying it was just the 
  liquor talking. 
  Skilling married one of the Enron secretaries this week. It’s amazing how romantic these 
  Enron guys can be when they realize that wives can’t be forced to testify against their 
  husbands. Skilling said today she was the best secretary Enron had ever had. She could shred 
  950 words a minute. I guess they are on their honeymoon right now. That’s going pretty well. 
  Hey, he’s used to screwing Enron employees.
  —Jay Leno, The Tonight Show
  
  124
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  sector should have a Feast Day. While you’re 
  trying to get your staff to prevent yet another 
  crisis, they’re ringing you up with whatever 
  whim popped into their head that day:
  � ‘I hear Communist subversion is up 
  to one citizen in three in DHG Sector. 
  Round up 90 DHG citizens and an 
  interrogation team. I bet Clyde-U it’s 
  more like one in ﬁ ve.’
  � ‘We should recycle everything. I want to 
  live in a house made out of discarded 
  food wrappers. Build me one.’
  � ‘Wouldn’t it be exciting to crash a Vulture 
  Fighter? I mean, ride it all the way into 
  the ground without ejecting! Wow! 
  C’mon, let’s go try it.’
  � ‘I know you’re secretly a robot. Show me 
  your robot brain. I know you can open up 
  your head at will. Do it. Show me your 
  brain, robot!’
  � ‘I’ve decided to get the band back 
  together. We’re going to tour and make it 
  really big this time. We need a manager 
  and booking agent. Huh? No, you’re 
  going to drive our transbot.’
  We’re not afraid to admit it, okay? 
  ULTRAVIOLETs are crazy.
  By the time you’ve made VIOLET Clearance, 
  you know for a fact what many at lower 
  clearances only suspect: High Programmers 
  are random, arbitrary and ﬁ ckle. Some of them 
  occasionally get so hopped on drug cocktails 
  they no longer have any sense of consequence, 
  understanding of cause and effect, or mental 
  activity beyond simple reptile-brain impulses. 
  And let’s face it—insanity is contagious, and 
  the single entity High Programmers have the 
  most contact with is The Computer.
  It is an understood and accepted fact of 
  VIOLET life that High Programmers are 
  clinically insane. There is nothing to be done; 
  all you can do is cope while trying not to go mad 
  yourself. (Unless... could going mad be the key 
  to promotion? Hey, maybe it’s worth a try!)
  Six executives 
  walk into a bar
  What is this executive life like at a practical (i.e., 
  you-and-your-players-getting-together) level?
  Typically, VIOLET executives come together 
  only to handle problems that require a Cross-
  Functional Cabinet (CFC)—that is, ﬁ rms from 
  more than one service group working together. 
  In theory, CFCs should be rare. In practice—
  High Programmers and The Computer being 
  what they are—almost anything can prompt a 
  CFC. In theory, problems should be clear-cut, 
  with an objective solution; in practice, they 
  are vague, poorly deﬁ ned, imponderable and 
  often well below the level that should require 
  VIOLET attention:
  � ‘Self-terminations are rising. How can 
  we reverse this trend?’
  � ‘Autocar parts are disappearing in record 
  numbers. What are they being used 
  for?’
  � ‘What caused the explosion that 
  destroyed Chapstick Factory A440?’
  � ‘We need a new kind of bot. What should 
  it do?’
  � ‘How can the process for requesting 
  medical aid be streamlined?’
  � ‘There are too few uses for thumbtacks. 
  Expand the approved list.”
  A VIOLET executive’s instinctive response 
  to a CFC problem is shaped by his service 
  ﬁ rm’s core competence and resources. A PLC 
  executive wants things handled very differently 
  from an Internal Security exec. When all you 
  have is a complex-wide network of 400 million 
  hammers, every problem looks like a nail.
  You see where we’re going with this: The 
  VIOLET player group forms a CFC to resolve 
  a problem you throw at them. The game plays 
  something like a Troubleshooter mission with 
  about ﬁ ve zeroes on the end.
  ■ Forming the Cross-
  Functional Cabinet
  Each player in the CFC game plays not only 
  an individual VIOLET character but also an 
  entire service ﬁ rm, of which the VIOLET is the 
  chief executive, silent partner or power behind 
  the throne. More than personal attributes or 
  gear, what matters for a VIOLET character is 
  his service ﬁ rm.
  Start the game by having the players create 
  their characters and service ﬁ rms. These ﬁ rms 
  will form the CFC that deals with a particular 
  problem. Don’t reveal the topic of the CFC to 
  the executives until after they have created 
  their ﬁ rms! 
  The service ﬁ rm has a name, a Mission 
  Statement and Firm Assets. 
  ■ The Mission Statement
  The best Mission Statements sound like you’re 
  devoted to something everyone agrees is 
  good, in some unique way, without committing 
  you to speciﬁ c requirements or objectives. 
  For example, the PLC service ﬁ rm Archive 
  Sentinels might have the Mission Statement, 
  ‘To insure safe and secure storage of precious 
  No job in my experience with Goodyear has been 
  as frustrating as the CEO job. Because even 
  though the perception is that you have absolute 
  power to do what you want, the reality is that you 
  don’t have that power. If you really had a free 
  hand, if you really did what you wanted to do that 
  suited your personal thoughts and your personal 
  priorities, you’d act differently. But as a CEO you 
  cannot do that.
  —Sam Gibara, former CEO and Chairman, 
  Goodyear Tire and Rubber Co.
  
  125
  record resources through education and 
  infrastructure improvement.’
  ■ Firm Assets
  Each executive’s firm needs assets. 
  Unfortunately, budget limitations being what 
  they are, every service ﬁ rm has its soft spots. 
  From each executive, you should get a list of 
  ﬁ ve Firm Assets (FA) he wants for his service 
  ﬁ rm. Each FA must be one word. Assets do not 
  have to be physical; they can be adjectives or 
  descriptors. For example:
  � Bots
  � Efﬁ cient
  � Cash
  � Feared
  � Advertising
  Write each FA on a separate piece of paper. 
  For each player’s ﬁ rm, pick two of the items 
  from that set (randomly or deliberately, as 
  you like) and give them back to the player. 
  These are assets he already has. Take one 
  remaining FA, draw a line through it, and give 
  it back to him as well. He has failed to maintain 
  this asset; it is his weakness. Pick one of the 
  two left and give it to another player; that 
  executive’s ﬁ rm has this FA instead.
  Each player should lose one asset and gain 
  one asset this way. When you’re all done, 
  everyone has three assets in hand and one 
  weakness. All assets are face-up.
  (You might consider an interesting variant 
  where players keep their weaknesses hidden 
  initially, forcing them to discover or expose each 
  others’ ﬂ aws before they can be exploited.)
  Put the last asset from each player on the 
  table, face up where everyone can see them. 
  These ‘up for grabs’ assets are available to 
  service ﬁ rms that are active, aggressive and 
  effective during the CFC.
  (Alternately, write down all the assets 
  yourself—ﬁ ve for each player you have. Shufﬂ e 
  them all face-down on the table. Have each 
  player draw three at random for themselves, 
  plus one weakness, and turn the rest face-up 
  as the available pile.)
  ■ We call it Alpha ‘Complex’ 
  for a reason
  Now inform the executives of the problem 
  handed to their CFC, and turn them loose to 
  solve it. The Cabinet does not end until one of 
  the participating service ﬁ rm executives can 
  actively (not just theoretically) demonstrate 
  a solution to the posed problem that ﬁ ts his 
  Mission Statement.
  As you might guess, CFCs can drag on for 
  quite some time.
  ■ The ﬂ ow of play
  In general, the more abstract you keep things, 
  the better they flow. Try to handle game 
  progress in terms of days, not hours or (heaven 
  help you) combat rounds.
  Discourage the players from trying to do 
  everything directly and in detail. Instead of 
  going out into a hallway with gun in hand, a 
  VIOLET executive calls up a squad of BLUE 
  Troopers and orders them to secure the 
  hallway—or, better yet, the entire subsector.
  Personal skills as ﬁ rm skills
  Treat the executive’s own skill ratings as 
  analogues of the ‘skills’ of his entire service 
  ﬁ rm. When he wants his ﬁ rm to accomplish 
  something, he rolls against his own personal 
  skill and specialty ratings to represent his 
  ﬁ rm’s performance. Determine the skill along 
  these lines:
  � Management: the size and loyalty of 
  the ﬁ rm’s senior staff (GREEN and up), 
  and how likely they are to correctly follow 
  orders.
  � Stealth: the ﬁ rm’s skill at hiding evidence 
  of its activities, as well as its skill at 
  gathering intelligence about others.
  � Violence: the ﬁ rm’s effectiveness at 
  executing physical tasks, whether actual 
  violence or simple harvesting of vat 
  product.
  � Hardware: how much physical gear the 
  ﬁ rm has on hand, and the relative quality 
  of that equipment.
  � Software: the firm’s connection to 
  databases, communication networks 
  and other digital resources.
  � Wetware: how numerous, and how 
  competent, the ﬁ rm’s lower-clearance 
  (YELLOW and below) employees are.
  Thus, the players still roll against their skills, 
  even though most of the actual work is being 
  done by their underlings. They can even use 
  their specialties, if the orders they give relate 
  to that specialty.
  Players still have and use Perversity; think 
  of this, in a way, as their ﬁ rms’ emergency 
  slush-fund budgets.
  What can executives do?
  Almost anything! As the Gamemaster, your 
  improvisation skills will be seriously tested, 
  because VIOLET executives can order 
  anything from the commissioning of a new R&D 
  device to a cluster-bomb airstrike to the ﬁ lming 
  of a blockbuster vidmovie. They might try 
  assassination, propaganda, hacking, creation 
  of bizarre technology, bribery of each others’ 
  minions… just about anything goes.
  But maintain these two stringent limitations 
  at all times:
  First, if the PCs try to drag The Computer 
  into the situation at any point before they 
  are ready to declare the end of the Cabinet 
  (i.e., victory), it will not be amused. Warn 
  the players in advance: The executives are 
  there to solve The Computer’s problems, 
  not vice versa. VIOLET citizens who whine 
  to The Computer get corrected even faster 
  than RED Troubleshooters who do the same 
  thing. Friend Computer expects such behavior 
  from the rank and ﬁ le; VIOLETs should know 
  better by now.
  Second, if they try to drag High 
  Programmers into the situation at any point, 
  the ULTRAVIOLETs are all too happy to get 
  involved. But this invariably causes more 
  trouble than it solves. For each bit of ‘help’ that 
  the High Programmers provide, they’ll make at 
  least two new demands—probably mutually 
  exclusive ones—and the Cabinet’s problem 
  becomes that much trickier to solve.
  Using Firm Assets
  When an executive orders something done and 
  the roll fails, he can try to change the failure to 
  success by expending a Firm Asset. 
  The player must offer you a reasonable 
  justiﬁ cation for how that FA comes into play 
  and makes him more likely to have succeeded. 
  For example, an executive who has ‘bots’ as an 
  FA might send an army of bots along with his 
  underlings on an assassination mission.
  If his use of the asset is reasonable, then he 
  tears up that FA—it is no longer available to 
  him—and re-rolls the failed test. If this re-roll 
  succeeds, he not only has his order carried 
  out successfully, but he can pick one of the 
  available (unclaimed) assets face-up on the 
  table. The player then jots down some new 
  one-word FA on a slip of paper and puts it 
  face-up in the available pile as a replacement. 
  If he fails the re-roll, the order still fails and he 
  does not replace the lost asset.
  VIOLET
  CROSS-FUNCTIONAL CABINET
  THERE IS NOTHING A FEW HAPPY PILLS CAN’T SOLVE.
  
  126
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Likewise, a player can expend an FA 
  to attempt to make another executive’s 
  successful roll fail. This works the same 
  way—the ‘blocking’ player needs a reasonable 
  justiﬁ cation for why his ﬁ rm’s asset interferes. If 
  you ﬁ nd this explanation compelling, the player 
  tears up that FA and his opponent must re-roll 
  the test. However, the blocking player does 
  not get to replace the expended asset; if the 
  player being ‘blocked’ still succeeds on the re-
  roll, he’s the one who gets to pick yet another 
  asset from the available pile, replacing it with 
  a newly written one. And if he fails the re-roll, 
  nobody takes an asset from the available pile. 
  The player who used his asset to block does 
  not get to replace it.
  Alternately, an executive can try to make 
  someone else’s successful roll fail by exploiting 
  their weakness, the asset with a line through 
  it. The basic mechanic is the same: The 
  ‘blocking’ player must provide a reason why 
  his opponent’s weakness has tripped him up. 
  The opponent must re-roll the test. If it fails, 
  the order fails. However, if it still succeeds, 
  his service ﬁ rm has overcome this weakness. 
  The player tears it up. He then picks one of 
  the available assets on the table to become a 
  new weakness—whichever one he wants. The 
  player puts a line through the asset and makes 
  it his weakness, and writes a new asset word 
  to add to the ‘up for grabs’ pile.
  No executive can exploit a speciﬁ c weakness 
  of another ﬁ rm more than once, but when 
  a ﬁ rm’s weakness changes, it becomes fair 
  game again.
  Getting more Assets: An executive can 
  attempt to add a new FA to his ﬁ rm if the ﬁ rm 
  succeeds at three different tasks (i.e. skill 
  rolls) that are all in some way related, in your 
  judgment, to one of the available Firm Assets 
  on the table. The successful rolls do not have 
  to be in a row. After three such successes, the 
  player takes that FA for his ﬁ rm and replaces 
  it with a new one as usual.
  …until someone puts out an 
  eye!
  Eventually (maybe), circumstances are such 
  that one of the executives can actually claim, 
  somehow, his Mission Statement has solved to 
  the problem. Here at Famous Game Designer 
  Central, we held something of a CFC ourselves 
  to determine the best, most correct word for 
  this circumstance. After many days of lively 
  debate, inarticulate cursing and the occasional 
  outbreak of gunﬁ re, we settled on the word 
  ‘victory’.
  For the victor, the end of the CFC brings him 
  what he wants. For cruisers, this may be an 
  extended period of peace and relative calm, 
  free from serious obligations, in which they 
  can pursue hobbies and indulge senses. For 
  crashers, this might well be the catapult that 
  launches them into the Biggest League. It will 
  certainly bring them to the attention of the High 
  Programmers… though the attention span of 
  an ULTRAVIOLET can probably be used as a 
  unit for measuring atomic spin.
  The other members of the Cabinet face a 
  range of unpleasant outcomes, depending 
  on how bitter the competition. Demotion and 
  replacement by an INDIGO—termination—
  even erasure is not uncommon. But, as often as 
  not, the hapless VIOLET executives are simply 
  thrown into the next problem, convened in yet 
  another trivial CFC, while the real problems of 
  Alpha Complex pile up untended.
  The ﬁ rst quarter results are in and they are not inspiring. We neither met The Street’s expectations nor those of 
  our own Board. Quarter-over-quarter proﬁ ts were down. The share price had already dropped based on a pre-
  announcement warning to analysts. Our conference call with these same analysts conﬁ rmed the bad news.
  Following the call, other senior managers and I were called into the ofﬁ ce of our CEO [...] He wanted an audit of 
  a plant expansion project that had run into delays and cost overruns. He wanted to understand why, if we were 
  sold out, we were still making deals in the market. And why we were not passing along to our customers the 
  freight surcharges being imposed on us by our carriers. Mostly, he wanted to know why our forecast was wrong. 
  All in all, a pack for every back.
  I looked at our manufacturing VP. He is a likeable fellow, slim, slightly balding, a pocket protector stuffed with 
  colored pens always at the ready. He looked back at me with a shrug. Like me, he could smell a witch hunt 
  brewing. [...]
  For some reason, the story of Boethius, a Roman statesman and philosopher, popped into my head. Boethius 
  enjoyed the conﬁ dence of the king and, as a patrician of Rome, was looked up to by the Roman nobility. When, 
  however, his enemies accused him of disloyalty and sacrilege, neither his noble birth nor his great popularity 
  served him. He was cast into prison, condemned unheard, and executed. During his imprisonment, he reﬂ ected 
  on the unreliable favor of princes and devotion of friends. He wrote these memorable words, ‘Whom prosperity 
  maketh our friend, adversity will make our enemy’.
  —‘Anger Has No Eyes’, bigpicturesmallofﬁ ce.com (April 24, 2005)
  
  127
  As part of a panel of ULTRAVIOLETs preparing a report for The 
  Computer on the intricate and wide-ranging Toothpaste Disaster 
  (an online Lexicon game run in Spring 2004, paranoia.allenvarney.
  com), High Programmer Jan-U-ARY-31 (a.k.a Eric Minton) wrote 
  this entry:
  Ah, yes. VIOLET executives. They are, in their way, all things 
  to all clones. The INFRARED worker will be lucky to encounter 
  one in her lifetime; they see the VIOLETs as mysterious elder 
  presences, as oligarchs of unthinkable power and authority. To the 
  ULTRAVIOLETs, such as my fellow committee members, VIOLETs 
  are ever-present aides, escorts and minions, scarcely competent to 
  organize one’s paperwork. So: who are these magenta magnates, 
  these lackeys in lavender? What function do they serve in Alpha 
  Complex?
  This is, of course, a rhetorical question (asked in accordance 
  with the Approved Rhetoric Transitional Sequence, Laws of Alpha 
  Complex ed. 39/B.3.9, section 5C, subsection 92, chapter 34). 
  They are the chief administrators of Alpha Complex: the CEOs 
  of service ﬁ rms, IntSec branch chiefs, the generals of Armed 
  Forces battalions. Likewise, they comprise the chiefs of staff of 
  the Armed Forces and the executive boards of the other service 
  groups. And, of course, VIOLET executives serve directly under 
  the High Programmers, compiling our instructions and seeing that 
  they are carried out. They have their hands on the levers of power, 
  waiting only for the word from on high to set our plans in motion 
  on our behalf.
  We define the policies. We give the orders. The VIOLETs 
  obey.
  Or do they?
  Think, fellow High Programmers. How much of your information 
  is ﬁ ltered through your ‘trustworthy’ VIOLET executives? How often 
  do you turn over assignments to VIOLETs and trust the work will 
  be done? How much access do your VIOLET executives have to 
  your records? Your command codes? The food you eat?
  Reﬂ ection makes it clear: We cannot be certain our VIOLET 
  executives are doing their jobs. At least, we cannot verify it without 
  investing so much time and effort we are unable to fulﬁ ll our own 
  responsibilities. So we do what we can to minimize the risks, and 
  we hope for the best.
  All of us learn to deal with the most obvious VIOLET machinations. 
  After all, we know they have their ambitions, and we can play 
  ambitious underlings off one another. And it works—or at least it 
  seems to. But this strategy has a ﬂ aw. What if the VIOLETs are 
  working together? They know our strategies. They’ve used them, 
  just as we have.
  I can tell what you’re thinking. ‘There can’t be a VIOLET conspiracy. 
  I was a VIOLET, and I never saw any sign of a conspiracy. And 
  anyway, if there were such a group, surely they would have invited 
  me to join! But they didn’t, did they?’
  In the old days, a VIOLET executive might spend years, even 
  decades, at his post before being considered for promotion into 
  the ranks of the High Programmers. But today promotions come 
  at a lightning-swift pace—two years, six months, sometimes even 
  a single month.
  How could they have gone up in rank so fast? Was it talent? 
  Loyalty? Treason? No—well, yes, treason, but  the rise came through 
  the collusion of their fellow VIOLET executives. You see, so many 
  High Programmers these days allow themselves to be isolated by 
  their dependence on their subordinates. The VIOLETs don’t need to 
  be promoted to get the power they crave; they need only manipulate 
  the data they present to us, and then alter the orders we give them, 
  to get almost anything they might want. So they avoid promotion. 
  They pull strings to make sure VIOLETs who do not belong to their 
  conspiracy get promoted over their heads. Thus they remain at the 
  levers of power, unopposed by those whose loyalty and talent might 
  uncover their insidious schemes.
  Look around at all those VIOLETs. The one on your left, organizing 
  your papers the way you like best. The one on the right, serving you 
  your noonday meal. And the one in front of you, who always seems 
  to know what you’re thinking. Then ask yourself: does he belong to 
  the cabal? Does she?
  Stay alert, High Programmer. Trust no one. Keep your laser 
  handy.
  — Jan-U-ARY-31
  VIOLETs: A High Programmer’s view
  VIOLET Chocolate
  Amedei-Porcelana—Beautiful looking chocolate (though on breaking some bubbling was found), with a ﬁ ne aroma 
  of red wine. Fantastic tangy ﬂ avor, that evolves through wine and blue cheese to almost too-sharp citrus—a 
  real journey! Some ‘bits’ found marred an otherwise smooth texture. Length is also sharp at the beginning, but 
  soon settles down to leave you satisﬁ ed after only a small piece. These artisan, hand-numbered bars are a 
  connoisseur’s delight—that’s if you don’t mind the equally ﬁ ne price! 
  Aroma: 9.5 (/10 - weight: 10/100) 
  Look: 9 (/10 - weight: 5/100) 
  Taste: 9 (/10 - weight: 35/100) 
  Melt: 8 (/10 - weight: 5/100) 
  Length: 9 (/10 - weight: 15/100) 
  Opinion: 9 (/10 - weight: 30/100) 
  Total: 9 (/10 - weighted Total) 
  —review by Martin Christy, 7 Jun 2002 
  (http://www.seventypercent.com/
  chocop/bar_detail.asp?ID=67)
  WARNING: TACNUKE LAUNCH DETECTED.
  VIOLET
  VIEWS
  
  128
  Extreme PARANOIA
  CLEARANCE ULTRAVIOLET
  Appendix: AlphaNet
  by Bill O’Dea
  Traitor Recycling Studio designer Bill 
  O’Dea wrote a great eight-page article 
  about AlphaNet, the Alpha Complex 
  version of the Internet. It’s all great stuff, 
  but eight pages—sheesh!
  We’re breaking up this monumental 
  piece across various PARANOIA
  supplements. This appendix talks about 
  AlphaNet as it relates to changing 
  clearance and career. In the service 
  group book, Service, Service!, another 
  extract talks about how the groups use 
  AlphaNet. The STUFF 2 equipment book 
  is all about the illegal Gray Subnets, so 
  we’ll use… you get the idea.
  Actually, we’re hoping we can get you 
  to buy six or seven different supplements 
  to get the whole article. Then we’ll sell 
  instructions on piecing the whole thing 
  together.
  Just wanted to help you budget for 
  future purchases. Enjoy!
  One of the most popular authorized uses 
  of AlphaNet is C-mail, the Alpha Complex 
  e-mail system. All citizens are assigned a C-
  mail address when they receive their service 
  group assignments at age 14. The protocol for 
  addresses is simple:
  givenname@CLEARANCE.birthsector.
  servicegroup
  So citizen Ronnie-R-TLF who works as an 
  Armed Forces grunt has the C-mail address 
  ronnie@RED.tlf.armf.
  The domain names for the service groups:
  Armed Forces: .armf
  CPU: .cp
  HPD&MC: .hpd
  IntSec: .ins
  Power Services: .pow
  PLC: .plc
  R&D: .rnd
  Technical Services: .tech
  Troubleshooters continue to use their 
  service group C-mail addresses throughout 
  their careers, regardless of how short those 
  careers might be.
  There is one other domain: .com, reserved 
  for The Computer. Many a brave citizen 
  turned into a quivering crybaby after 
  receiving a C-mail with the return address 
  thecomputer@thecomputer.com.
  What happens when a citizen is promoted or 
  reassigned to another service group? A whole 
  mess of confusion, that’s what. If Ronnie-R 
  becomes Ronnie-O, then Armed Forces 
  personnel are supposed to transfer his C-mail 
  folder to an ORANGE C-mail server. There’s 
  usually a two- to four-week backlog, and 
  sometimes the RED folder is deleted and a new 
  ORANGE folder is created just to make it easier 
  for the clerks. If Ronnie-O is transferred to 
  R&D, he needs to complete Armed Forces form 
  ARFAC 14542.5 ‘Permission To Delete C-mail 
  Folder—Reassignment’, R&D form C1545-EZ 
  ‘New C-mail Storage Folder Assignment And 
  Liability Waiver’, CPU form 66TT.43/g ‘C-mail 
  Change of Address Request’….
  Storage ceilings: Because C-mail can 
  take up a lot of time and available memory, 
  service groups assign C-mail storage limits 
  to their workers. The limit varies by security 
  clearance and job description. A GREEN HPD 
  News Services citizen has a lot more storage 
  than a RED Food Vat Cleaner. Going over 
  your limit is… bad. Most groups issue severe 
  ﬁ nes, but Armed Forces and IntSec usually 
  have more creative methods of punishing 
  chatty citizens.
  Getting up to speed
  For the newly promoted citizen looking to learn 
  the ropes of his new clearance, AlphaNet is 
  awash in information sites. Service ﬁ rms may 
  not sell their wares on their own sites, but 
  they can create pages of data to keep citizens 
  informed of all the nifty ways they serve Alpha 
  Complex. Sometimes the information on these 
  sites is quite helpful. The Swingvolt netsite 
  (http://RED.swingvolt.tech.baw/swingme) 
  lists planned brownouts and blackouts by 
  sector and date, and the netsite for Watch 
  Your Words! Semantic Co. (http://RED.
  semantics.hpd.rtr/correctspeak) includes 
  recent changes to spelling and grammar 
  mandates. Citizens can actually save a lot 
  of hassle and clone replacements by reading 
  these netsites.
  Some details are blocked out for security 
  reasons, but The Computer usually wants 
  citizens to know the latest mandates and 
  regulations that pertain to his current clearance. 
  A citizen who knows about new HPD&MC 
  regulations but ignores them anyway is clearly a 
  traitor. Sure, a citizen who doesn’t take the time 
  to ﬁ nd out about HPD&MC’s new regulations is 
  also a traitor, but that only highlights the need 
  to post these regulations in an easy-to-ﬁ nd 
  location such as HPD&MC’s NewRegs netsite 
  (http://RED.newregulations.hpd.wdw/theho
  mepagefornewalphacomplexregulations/).
  Not all sites are helpful, or it wouldn’t 
  be Alpha Complex. The Re-Education 
  Guides netsite (http://RED.reeducate.ins.
  cfh/learnyouright) is supposed to be a 
  storehouse of information concerning re-
  education centers and their current ‘students’. 
  Instead, the page forces the browser into 
  displaying a quiz. Scoring too low on the quiz 
  puts that character’s name on the top of the 
  ﬁ rm’s Student Recruitment list, and failing to 
  complete the quiz results in a score of zero. 
  Some sites, such as the Sector Tourism 
  Board (http://RED.tourismboard.hpd.nsd/
  travelandspend), are completely blank to 
  anyone under GREEN Clearance. And the 
  FunFoods PLC site (http://RED.funfoods.
  plc.jsu/funfoodsarefun) contains enough 
  information to make a citizen go on a voluntary 
  hunger strike.
  Other sites are so open, it’s either an IntSec 
  trap or just stupidity on the part of the site’s 
  administrators. For example, BulletBoys AF 
  (http://RED.bulletboys.armf.oop/die4u) 
  lists the names of people their bodyguards 
  are trying to protect and includes a detailed 
  schedule of where those people will be for 
  the next week. Can it be used to thwart the 
  guards and assassinate that person, or is it a 
  false schedule to throw would-be assassins 
  off the trail? Workers can be so incompetent, 
  and IntSec so devious, it’s hard to know which 
  is correct.
  ERROR 404: 
  COMPUTER 
  NOT FOUND
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Paranoia [multi]/Paranoia XP/ParanoiaXP - Extreme Paranoia.pdf