Perhaps it's escaped everyone's notice, but StartCom is basically banned by most reasonable things at this point, so this sites certificate (and likely any other SSL transaction) no longer shows up as valid. Perhaps a switch to one of the other many free providers, perhaps letsencrypt or something. Just an idea.
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StartCom Certificate
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Change belt drops for Red Soullight
Hi I'm Fedai, NCPD's most wanted criminal #1
Please change belt drops for us terrorists.
keep safeslot unlocked, but make less items drop on death, not 90% of my inventory.
Playing with red soullight is very intriguing but I can't afford to keep replacing my conventional (under power-suit) armor. Its fun to use subpar weapons to counter the risks. Losing a 0 slot liberator is not the end of the world. But there's really no way to deal with the total loss of armor issues.
Please change belt drops for us terrorists.
keep safeslot unlocked, but make less items drop on death, not 90% of my inventory.
Playing with red soullight is very intriguing but I can't afford to keep replacing my conventional (under power-suit) armor. Its fun to use subpar weapons to counter the risks. Losing a 0 slot liberator is not the end of the world. But there's really no way to deal with the total loss of armor issues.
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Biotech Epic Run Bug (severe)
I've had a help ticket in for 5 days or so now. Decided to come to the forums to describe it as it doesn't fit into the in-game tickets.
On the lvl 40 Biotech Epic Run, I have completed the mission, gotten the reward (that sweet, sweet Moveon chip), but the quest will not complete. When I try to talk to McMillan again, he says he has already rewarded me (which he has), but he will not end the run. I have tried relogging and speaking to him again, but the same message appears. I have tried cancelling and starting the mission over, but the same message appears. This means that I cannot move forward to the lvl 45 Epic Run.
I think what is happening is this: When I originally completed the lvl 40 mission (two years or so ago), I switched factions before doing the lvl 45 mission. When I came back to Biotech as part of my desire to have every epic run completed (only 1 more to go!), it remembered that I had done it, but the conversation script does not allow for a successful ending of the quest if you had previously done the lvl 40 mission (when you switch factions and come back, it starts the missions over from #1, which I did not expect).
What would fix it would be this (I think): In the conversation script, if the variable has already been set for receiving the moveon (which triggers the conversation branch that says 'Ive already given you the reward'), simply successfully end the mission without giving the reward at the end of that branch, so that you can move on (pun intended) to the lvl 45 mission.
Thanks a lot for your help. Once I can get this resolved, I can complete the Biotech missions and move on to the CityMerc missions (the last one needed before I have them all!). The character that is having this issue is named 'Questing Beast' and currently has an in-game ticket in.
Jesse
On the lvl 40 Biotech Epic Run, I have completed the mission, gotten the reward (that sweet, sweet Moveon chip), but the quest will not complete. When I try to talk to McMillan again, he says he has already rewarded me (which he has), but he will not end the run. I have tried relogging and speaking to him again, but the same message appears. I have tried cancelling and starting the mission over, but the same message appears. This means that I cannot move forward to the lvl 45 Epic Run.
I think what is happening is this: When I originally completed the lvl 40 mission (two years or so ago), I switched factions before doing the lvl 45 mission. When I came back to Biotech as part of my desire to have every epic run completed (only 1 more to go!), it remembered that I had done it, but the conversation script does not allow for a successful ending of the quest if you had previously done the lvl 40 mission (when you switch factions and come back, it starts the missions over from #1, which I did not expect).
What would fix it would be this (I think): In the conversation script, if the variable has already been set for receiving the moveon (which triggers the conversation branch that says 'Ive already given you the reward'), simply successfully end the mission without giving the reward at the end of that branch, so that you can move on (pun intended) to the lvl 45 mission.
Thanks a lot for your help. Once I can get this resolved, I can complete the Biotech missions and move on to the CityMerc missions (the last one needed before I have them all!). The character that is having this issue is named 'Questing Beast' and currently has an in-game ticket in.
Jesse
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Vehicle sharing
It would be so awesome if loot sharing worked along side of vehicle sharing. Let's say two or more players are hunting together. It would be ever so much better if they didnt have to get 'permission' to hop in and out. One 'easy' solution would be to tie this to the new 'team' loot sharing. Would be fantastic change :) Safer so we get less deaths from 'did not receive permission in time'.:)
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[R#219]dialogue box at crahn getting stuck
I go to the faction supply manager and sometimes get stuck with the 3 options for when your not in a mission while I am in a mission that requires talking to that person, and I am having to close the application from windows to relog and get it to do what it is supposed to do. the same thing happens at the registrar sometimes too.
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Neocron Parkour 1
I love exploring Neocron and finding new places I can get to. This is one of the coolest climbs I know of.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgTFAclxEUU
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgTFAclxEUU
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Spy Holo PA Weight
Hi guys,
After the transport malus was removed from the Spy Holo PA I noticed that weight was still an issue. I then noticed the weight of the Holo PA is 21.50. This seems like an anomaly from looking at other PAs.
Spy = 7.5 / 8 / 21.5
PE = all 16
Tank = all 21.5
Monk = all 5
The holographic armour should be the lightest as it's a hologram? Yet it's the same weight as Tank PA.
Cheers
After the transport malus was removed from the Spy Holo PA I noticed that weight was still an issue. I then noticed the weight of the Holo PA is 21.50. This seems like an anomaly from looking at other PAs.
Spy = 7.5 / 8 / 21.5
PE = all 16
Tank = all 21.5
Monk = all 5
The holographic armour should be the lightest as it's a hologram? Yet it's the same weight as Tank PA.
Cheers
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CopBots see Scout Drone as weapon
Rather low priority.
CopBots outside of Plaza 1 see Scout Drone as weapon and shoot at it after a brief warning. Come on, its just flying camera.
In Plaza 1 there is perfectly fine, you can fly whenever you want. You can't use other drones though.
CopBots outside of Plaza 1 see Scout Drone as weapon and shoot at it after a brief warning. Come on, its just flying camera.
In Plaza 1 there is perfectly fine, you can fly whenever you want. You can't use other drones though.
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GR to owned OP should be free
If your clan owns an OP it should be free to GR into. This would offer an additional incentive for players to pull their LE out and join clans.
1 - It encourages clans to own more OPs (more OP Fights)
2 - It encourages individual players to join clans to take advantage of free travel (more UnLE'd)
What do people think?
1 - It encourages clans to own more OPs (more OP Fights)
2 - It encourages individual players to join clans to take advantage of free travel (more UnLE'd)
What do people think?
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APU and PPU rare Modules
I would like to suggest that the rares of APUs and PPUs get some kind of DMG/Heal/Shield Bonus again.
Don´t overdo it but as it is now, when you change to rare spells you pay for lets say nothing ,because until you are capped and you have all the rare imps and mc5 imps they are a downgrade from the normal modules
Don´t overdo it but as it is now, when you change to rare spells you pay for lets say nothing ,because until you are capped and you have all the rare imps and mc5 imps they are a downgrade from the normal modules
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Coaxing players to take their LEs out
Currently, the LE chip exists to protect tradeskillers and levellers against big bads. It has the money malus, and the XP malus, but it's still possible to get things like WoC with an LE in. This feels a bit wrong.
I'm looking for realistic ideas to encourage players to pull their LEs out.
My first suggestion is that the Malus begins at level 40, and pretty much cripples a character by 55. By this point, they should be strong enough to defend against PKs, or run away at least. It gives them a boost on the levelling at lower levels, so they can get into the game quicker.
Now, for the record, I AM a recovering Carebear. It's only in the last couple of months I've joined a clan. However, I'm now having significantly more fun. You have better protection, it's easier to arrange farming/fighting, you can pool resources to get stuff you simply can't get on your own without a significant output of effort. IMHO this far outweighs the possibility of getting PKed, or losing a weapon, as most of the time, if you drop something important - the clan can just get you a new one anyway, so the only real negative is a couple of minutes getting a poke, and getting back on your way. Let's face it - that's nothing compared to the benefits.
I'm looking for realistic ideas to encourage players to pull their LEs out.
My first suggestion is that the Malus begins at level 40, and pretty much cripples a character by 55. By this point, they should be strong enough to defend against PKs, or run away at least. It gives them a boost on the levelling at lower levels, so they can get into the game quicker.
Now, for the record, I AM a recovering Carebear. It's only in the last couple of months I've joined a clan. However, I'm now having significantly more fun. You have better protection, it's easier to arrange farming/fighting, you can pool resources to get stuff you simply can't get on your own without a significant output of effort. IMHO this far outweighs the possibility of getting PKed, or losing a weapon, as most of the time, if you drop something important - the clan can just get you a new one anyway, so the only real negative is a couple of minutes getting a poke, and getting back on your way. Let's face it - that's nothing compared to the benefits.
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PTS Combat Testing
Had an hour of combat. A few thoughts.
Pros
Movement is generally very much improved. Less instances of warping. Some warping still occured, but limited to a meter or two.
Mouse aiming. Vast improvement. Gone from hitting about 20% in combat to more like 70-80%
Cons
Had a few occasions where opponent seemed stationary, despite them moving on their screen.
Notes
HC PE. Seemed overpowered. Attacked opponent whilst starting casting heal/absorber/protector when I attacked. Got him down to around 40% whilst he was casting, then just died. This happened twice. Opponent using TL84 Plasma Cannon vs Distruptor.
PC specs not an issue. Running at 23 ping, zero detected packet loss, 63 FPS.
Pros
Movement is generally very much improved. Less instances of warping. Some warping still occured, but limited to a meter or two.
Mouse aiming. Vast improvement. Gone from hitting about 20% in combat to more like 70-80%
Cons
Had a few occasions where opponent seemed stationary, despite them moving on their screen.
Notes
HC PE. Seemed overpowered. Attacked opponent whilst starting casting heal/absorber/protector when I attacked. Got him down to around 40% whilst he was casting, then just died. This happened twice. Opponent using TL84 Plasma Cannon vs Distruptor.
PC specs not an issue. Running at 23 ping, zero detected packet loss, 63 FPS.
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R218 - GR taking credits
I think this is related to the recent QOL - double clicking a destination to travel there.
On opening the GR, it will occasionally register a double click on your current location - remove funds, but not transport you.
I have not been able to reliably reproduce this effect, though it has happened to me two/three times since the last patch, and to clan mates around as frequently.
On opening the GR, it will occasionally register a double click on your current location - remove funds, but not transport you.
I have not been able to reliably reproduce this effect, though it has happened to me two/three times since the last patch, and to clan mates around as frequently.
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R218 PA disabled on res
Following PPU resurection, PA shows as active in the armour window, but does not display on character, and doesn't contribute states.
Swapping any piece of armour from the armour window to the inventory and back to the armour window resets this.
Edit - I'm told that having a PPU cast a resistance booster will also reset the armour. Not tested this.
Swapping any piece of armour from the armour window to the inventory and back to the armour window resets this.
Edit - I'm told that having a PPU cast a resistance booster will also reset the armour. Not tested this.
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Runners Wanted
A wracking cough stole her away from her fitful sleep each bout thundering through her brain. She rolled onto her side, hoping to abate the coughing fit, her stomach lurching as she moved. For a time, she remained there, staring at the sepia wall, the taste of vomit and a dozen cigarettes in the back of her throat. Slowly she turned to face the room. A pulsing red neon lights outside her window fought through a film of filth and the thin blinds, illuminating everything with a pink sheen. As she swung her legs off the dirty cot she lay in, her feet knocked over an almost-empty bottle of whiskey before finding the cold steel plate floor. She fumbled on the nightstand and produced a crumpled packet of cigarettes, pulling the last one free and throwing the empty box into a corner. She lit it and sat with her head in her hands, willing the pain behind her eyes to abate. When she eventually took her first drag, her empty stomach rumbled. She belched. She knew she had paracetamol somewhere, but her apartment was a disaster area. The floor was littered with the armour she had dragged from her body after returning from yesterdays jobs. There was still a faint smell of burnt plastic in the air from where the laser had burned into her chest plate it had nearly gone right through, and would offer no resistance to another shot. Replacing it would be costly, and she barely had the credits to eat today she might be able to get away with a patch job. She was thoroughly regretting the drink but when lifes shitty, you make shitty choices. As unsteady as a new born deer, she tottered to her feet and ambled across the room to her Citycom Terminal and punched into the mainframe. She ignored the emails that flash up, theyd mostly be overdue debt notices anyway, and navigated to the jobs screen. Runners Wanted. Quick Job. Low Risk. She grunted to herself. Yesterdays job had been low risk, carrying parts around the city for suit-clad business types; too clean and proper to carry their own dirty laundry. But she had come across a mugger in the subway, who had pulled a laser pistol on her when she refused to hand over her cargo. She had opened his chest with her 9mm, and taken his pistol and a handful of dubious looking stims from his body. She would have gotten more, but the Copbots were coming drawn by the echoes of weapons fire. Shed fancied the pistol for a moment, but decided it was likely easily traced back to its true owner, so left it on the floor. She completed the drop, and traded the stims for the whiskey; but the payment for the job itself had to clear H.R. first. It would take up to 5 working days, standard protocol, the disinterested assistant had told her across a desk as he looked out of the window. So she needed new work to ensure a meal tomorrow. She took a long draw of her cigarette and started at the sickly green screen. Runner Wanted Quick Kill Job.
She had needed a good hour for her hangover to subside enough to allow her leave the apartment. Now, she moved down Pepper Parks main avenue. Flashing neon signs bearing lewd images winking down at passers-by. The first time she had seen Pepper Park, she had been captivated. It had a sense of danger that had excited her. Now all she saw was the club-goers - their sentiency erased by drink and drugs, walking past scorch marks left there by last nights fighting. She saw the tired women, wearing nothing, or next to nothing, gyrating cynically in glass booths, many sporting fresh bruises on their drawn faces, and track marks on their arms. She saw the thugs who strong-armed residents and business owners, too poor to move away from their tyranny. Most of all, she saw weapons, worn openly, and never more than a heartbeat away from their owners hand. Shed thought about joining the gangs that ran the streets on more than one occasion they offered the illusion of protection to runners desperate to join. Each time she had arrived at the conclusion that shed rather try and get along on her own than end up as a meat shield in a turf war. Neocron city was, as a whole, dilapidated its infrastructure slowly crumbling to the stranglehold of time. Its greatest minds, had been lost long ago, during a failed colonisation effort and the subsequent wars their skills and knowledge slipping into obscurity. Some sectors of the city fared better than others Pepper Park was one of the unlucky ones. She turned into an alley way, her combat boots splashing in a puddle of something she didnt care to look down at. The smell of urine was strong, and a rat stopped chewing on trash, watched her, bolt-upright, and darted into the shadows. She stopped at a heavy metal hatch, with a palm-reading access panel. She pulled a worn-looking case from her pack, drew loose two wires and plugged them into the panel. It was poorly made and didnt take long to break the encryption. The hatch opened automatically, though with a grating squeal. The stench of decay billowing from within. She took a quick mental inventory, drew her pistol and proceeded.
The ladder that should have led her down had long since sheered away from the wall, and laid rusting to the floor below. Someone had since piled boxes to form a crude ramp, and she carefully eased down upon them the rotting wood bent under her weight. Carefully she clambered down, her feed probing each box in turn to ensure it would continue to support her. She stood on the corrosion pitted steel plate floor and took stock of her surroundings. A chemical light coughed off and on above her, illuminating the piles of ruined storage boxes around her. In one corner, a vagrant had left the pile of filthy blankets they had once used as bedding the empty beer cans rusting around the dirty nest. She shivered subconsciously. Despite her apparent solitude, she felt eyes upon her. As she scanned the shadows that veiled the corners of the room, she found nothing. She stalked to the door that led deeper into the cellars, her pistol proceeded her - firmly held in both hands. As she eased the door open, the pistols muzzle poked through, scouting the corners as she entered. The sickly-sweet tang of decay was more pronounced, but still some way away. She could see nothing of import; more rotten boxes and discarded storage cubes. A hum of industrial machinery resonated through the ceiling, and a scroll work of pipes sprawled across one wall, contents dripping from neglected joints. It was times like these that she envied the PSI Monks their latent psychic abilities allowed them premonitions of dangers, and allowed them to counter threats before they full emerged. Their abilities were conjoined with an almost preternatural intelligence that left them cold and detached from humanity; and had led them into direct contact with the citys administration on more than one occasion. Prior to this, they had applied their talents to all-out war, and thus, created the Gen-Tanks. These genetically engineered super soldiers were once instrumental to the survival of Neocron, and were now discarded reduced to offering their services as thugs, private security and mercenaries. The monks employed a gauntlet that acted to enhance their abilities or for simple runners like her access to the most basic of techniques. She had acquired a discarded gauntlet for herself, mottled with use and slightly too large to be worn comfortably, and had learned how to use it to knit together her own wounds, but lacked the aptitude for much more. Still, she strained her senses willing herself to feel beyond the door, and entered once her gut told her that she could proceed.
The second room bore a large fan on the opposite wall - it spun lazily, pushing warm stale air that irritated her eyes. Pipes, as wide as she was tall, spanned from the floor to the ceiling and rattled in their worn brackets. Despite the patina of rust that covered most things in the room, one particular brown stain caught her attention. It began on the wall and seemed to melt down towards the metal plates and pool on the floor. She stepped towards it, kicking a spent shell casing as she did. Although the tell-tale coppery scent was missing, she was certain that the stain was blood, and there had been a lot of it. The puddle on the floor tapered into a trail which led through a doorway she stared at it long and hard. The entry on the Citycom referenced creatures in the cellars, but had been vague on the identify. She had hoped it would be something simple like the packs of dogs that sometimes lurked into the alleyways during the inky night time. Now she understood that it was something bigger. She could always turn back, but she wasnt likely to find a job this well payed for a couple of weeks it was a chance to keep herself comfortable, and to replace her ailing armour. She swore under her breath and proceeded through the door. She stepped across the threshold into a chamber its walls climbing many meters above her. She could not see a ceiling only a light that barely reached the floor; picking out only the most raised surfaces with a faint sickly green. Beside her, water ran from a burst pipe, trickling down stalactite that had formed from the pipes ruined maw and splashing against metal as it cascaded through a grate and into the inky dark unknown. Unable to see her own feet, she inched forward, each step deliberate. Rust crunched below her boots. Something moved. She froze, statue rigid, finger tight around the trigger of the pistol that guided her through to gloom. She stared into the darkness, each beat of her heart seemed minutes apart, her breath caught in her chest. There, again. Her knees bent slightly, shoulder locked, eyes narrowed. Before her a mound, perhaps cloth, rose to the height of a man the pistols muzzle followed, locked on centre mass. She let out a low whistle, and the mass turned to face her, slowly and carefully. She could hear each slap of leathery feet as it shuffled in an awkward circle. She could not see his face as it was obscured by a filthy burlap hood, but she could make out the emaciated figure of his bare shoulders and chest in the baleful light from above. Slowly, almost mechanically it raised its arm, metal glinting from the hand palm facing her face. There was a second of luminescence as the PSI module activated, plasma forming in-between his claw-like fingers. She had heard of these creatures - Enlightened Preachers wretched parodies of the PSI Monks. His face lit up as the pistol barked twice, both slugs bursting through his narrow chest. There was a moment of tinnitus. Spent shell cases tinkled upon the plate metal floor. It let out a rasping sigh as its body folded, spilling him onto the floor. Rheumy eyes fixed lifelessly on the light above. She lowered to a crouch and patted down his clothing. Even mutants carried scavenged equipment that could be sold to one of the citys numerous less scrupulous pawn brokers. Many runners began their careers with materiel recovered from the fallen, haphazardly repaired and sold to the needy with no guarantee to their longevity. She had herself wielded a nail gun cobbled together from old pipe and an air compressor not refined, but serviceable none-the-less. There was a metallic whine to her left. Instinctively she rolled forwards. An orange flash. Bullets flattened against the metal storage crate beside her. She ran for cover, blind-firing behind her. A sound like ripping cloth heralded the return fire. She counted off each pull of the trigger she was running low now. She stopped behind dilapidated barrels and took a moment to regain her composure. Fluidly she stood, pistol held in both hands. She squeezed the trigger, the recoil jolting up her arm. The mutant snarled as it raised its chaingun. She heard someone talk about Aggressors before. They stood over six feet tall and seemed to have their weapon grafted to their arm. Someone said they were born that way shed laughed back then. Now, it seemed less funny. She adjusted her aim, and sent her last round screaming into the Aggressors forehead. Its head snapped back, but her elation quickly boiled away. The mutant craned its head forward again, the slug visible squashed against one of the many plates of scrap that were grafted to its skin. The snarl broke and became a cold humourless smile as the barrels rotated and spat flames.
She had needed a good hour for her hangover to subside enough to allow her leave the apartment. Now, she moved down Pepper Parks main avenue. Flashing neon signs bearing lewd images winking down at passers-by. The first time she had seen Pepper Park, she had been captivated. It had a sense of danger that had excited her. Now all she saw was the club-goers - their sentiency erased by drink and drugs, walking past scorch marks left there by last nights fighting. She saw the tired women, wearing nothing, or next to nothing, gyrating cynically in glass booths, many sporting fresh bruises on their drawn faces, and track marks on their arms. She saw the thugs who strong-armed residents and business owners, too poor to move away from their tyranny. Most of all, she saw weapons, worn openly, and never more than a heartbeat away from their owners hand. Shed thought about joining the gangs that ran the streets on more than one occasion they offered the illusion of protection to runners desperate to join. Each time she had arrived at the conclusion that shed rather try and get along on her own than end up as a meat shield in a turf war. Neocron city was, as a whole, dilapidated its infrastructure slowly crumbling to the stranglehold of time. Its greatest minds, had been lost long ago, during a failed colonisation effort and the subsequent wars their skills and knowledge slipping into obscurity. Some sectors of the city fared better than others Pepper Park was one of the unlucky ones. She turned into an alley way, her combat boots splashing in a puddle of something she didnt care to look down at. The smell of urine was strong, and a rat stopped chewing on trash, watched her, bolt-upright, and darted into the shadows. She stopped at a heavy metal hatch, with a palm-reading access panel. She pulled a worn-looking case from her pack, drew loose two wires and plugged them into the panel. It was poorly made and didnt take long to break the encryption. The hatch opened automatically, though with a grating squeal. The stench of decay billowing from within. She took a quick mental inventory, drew her pistol and proceeded.
The ladder that should have led her down had long since sheered away from the wall, and laid rusting to the floor below. Someone had since piled boxes to form a crude ramp, and she carefully eased down upon them the rotting wood bent under her weight. Carefully she clambered down, her feed probing each box in turn to ensure it would continue to support her. She stood on the corrosion pitted steel plate floor and took stock of her surroundings. A chemical light coughed off and on above her, illuminating the piles of ruined storage boxes around her. In one corner, a vagrant had left the pile of filthy blankets they had once used as bedding the empty beer cans rusting around the dirty nest. She shivered subconsciously. Despite her apparent solitude, she felt eyes upon her. As she scanned the shadows that veiled the corners of the room, she found nothing. She stalked to the door that led deeper into the cellars, her pistol proceeded her - firmly held in both hands. As she eased the door open, the pistols muzzle poked through, scouting the corners as she entered. The sickly-sweet tang of decay was more pronounced, but still some way away. She could see nothing of import; more rotten boxes and discarded storage cubes. A hum of industrial machinery resonated through the ceiling, and a scroll work of pipes sprawled across one wall, contents dripping from neglected joints. It was times like these that she envied the PSI Monks their latent psychic abilities allowed them premonitions of dangers, and allowed them to counter threats before they full emerged. Their abilities were conjoined with an almost preternatural intelligence that left them cold and detached from humanity; and had led them into direct contact with the citys administration on more than one occasion. Prior to this, they had applied their talents to all-out war, and thus, created the Gen-Tanks. These genetically engineered super soldiers were once instrumental to the survival of Neocron, and were now discarded reduced to offering their services as thugs, private security and mercenaries. The monks employed a gauntlet that acted to enhance their abilities or for simple runners like her access to the most basic of techniques. She had acquired a discarded gauntlet for herself, mottled with use and slightly too large to be worn comfortably, and had learned how to use it to knit together her own wounds, but lacked the aptitude for much more. Still, she strained her senses willing herself to feel beyond the door, and entered once her gut told her that she could proceed.
The second room bore a large fan on the opposite wall - it spun lazily, pushing warm stale air that irritated her eyes. Pipes, as wide as she was tall, spanned from the floor to the ceiling and rattled in their worn brackets. Despite the patina of rust that covered most things in the room, one particular brown stain caught her attention. It began on the wall and seemed to melt down towards the metal plates and pool on the floor. She stepped towards it, kicking a spent shell casing as she did. Although the tell-tale coppery scent was missing, she was certain that the stain was blood, and there had been a lot of it. The puddle on the floor tapered into a trail which led through a doorway she stared at it long and hard. The entry on the Citycom referenced creatures in the cellars, but had been vague on the identify. She had hoped it would be something simple like the packs of dogs that sometimes lurked into the alleyways during the inky night time. Now she understood that it was something bigger. She could always turn back, but she wasnt likely to find a job this well payed for a couple of weeks it was a chance to keep herself comfortable, and to replace her ailing armour. She swore under her breath and proceeded through the door. She stepped across the threshold into a chamber its walls climbing many meters above her. She could not see a ceiling only a light that barely reached the floor; picking out only the most raised surfaces with a faint sickly green. Beside her, water ran from a burst pipe, trickling down stalactite that had formed from the pipes ruined maw and splashing against metal as it cascaded through a grate and into the inky dark unknown. Unable to see her own feet, she inched forward, each step deliberate. Rust crunched below her boots. Something moved. She froze, statue rigid, finger tight around the trigger of the pistol that guided her through to gloom. She stared into the darkness, each beat of her heart seemed minutes apart, her breath caught in her chest. There, again. Her knees bent slightly, shoulder locked, eyes narrowed. Before her a mound, perhaps cloth, rose to the height of a man the pistols muzzle followed, locked on centre mass. She let out a low whistle, and the mass turned to face her, slowly and carefully. She could hear each slap of leathery feet as it shuffled in an awkward circle. She could not see his face as it was obscured by a filthy burlap hood, but she could make out the emaciated figure of his bare shoulders and chest in the baleful light from above. Slowly, almost mechanically it raised its arm, metal glinting from the hand palm facing her face. There was a second of luminescence as the PSI module activated, plasma forming in-between his claw-like fingers. She had heard of these creatures - Enlightened Preachers wretched parodies of the PSI Monks. His face lit up as the pistol barked twice, both slugs bursting through his narrow chest. There was a moment of tinnitus. Spent shell cases tinkled upon the plate metal floor. It let out a rasping sigh as its body folded, spilling him onto the floor. Rheumy eyes fixed lifelessly on the light above. She lowered to a crouch and patted down his clothing. Even mutants carried scavenged equipment that could be sold to one of the citys numerous less scrupulous pawn brokers. Many runners began their careers with materiel recovered from the fallen, haphazardly repaired and sold to the needy with no guarantee to their longevity. She had herself wielded a nail gun cobbled together from old pipe and an air compressor not refined, but serviceable none-the-less. There was a metallic whine to her left. Instinctively she rolled forwards. An orange flash. Bullets flattened against the metal storage crate beside her. She ran for cover, blind-firing behind her. A sound like ripping cloth heralded the return fire. She counted off each pull of the trigger she was running low now. She stopped behind dilapidated barrels and took a moment to regain her composure. Fluidly she stood, pistol held in both hands. She squeezed the trigger, the recoil jolting up her arm. The mutant snarled as it raised its chaingun. She heard someone talk about Aggressors before. They stood over six feet tall and seemed to have their weapon grafted to their arm. Someone said they were born that way shed laughed back then. Now, it seemed less funny. She adjusted her aim, and sent her last round screaming into the Aggressors forehead. Its head snapped back, but her elation quickly boiled away. The mutant craned its head forward again, the slug visible squashed against one of the many plates of scrap that were grafted to its skin. The snarl broke and became a cold humourless smile as the barrels rotated and spat flames.
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R220 SI using Gen rep to go to clan-owned OP
Hi
Currently we're experiencing SI when you GR to an op which is owned by the clan.
This has been confirmed by 2 other players.
In my instance, it took 500 credits, didn't GR me anywhere and gave me SI instead...
Edit: Appears to happen when you double-click the OP name, rather than using the old method.
Currently we're experiencing SI when you GR to an op which is owned by the clan.
This has been confirmed by 2 other players.
In my instance, it took 500 credits, didn't GR me anywhere and gave me SI instead...
Edit: Appears to happen when you double-click the OP name, rather than using the old method.
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A few bugs with opening belts in teams.
LE'd runners who click on a teammate's belt actually unlock the belt for all players. I figured this out when a guy tried to get his belt back on an LE'd character and he unlocked the belt for us. The LE'd guy can't open the belt and there is no indication that it was opened for others.
Also, when I /set kill_self 1 and tried to loot the belt on another character it said I "did not have first access privileges."
Also, when I /set kill_self 1 and tried to loot the belt on another character it said I "did not have first access privileges."
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Why I'm less active
My personal reasons for not playing.
Maybe NST can adress these issues?
- PP1 changes make solo PvP meetups way harder (get group ganked all the time)
- Low Pop makes PvP meetups harder (don't meet that many other players in the wastes)
- I don't WoC my chars if there is no double XP (espiecially my PE is impossible)
Regards Odi
Maybe NST can adress these issues?
- PP1 changes make solo PvP meetups way harder (get group ganked all the time)
- Low Pop makes PvP meetups harder (don't meet that many other players in the wastes)
- I don't WoC my chars if there is no double XP (espiecially my PE is impossible)
Regards Odi
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Price check on some droner stuff
Returning player here trying to get a sense of the cost of things these days. I'm interested in Genotoxic PA (pistol spy), Particle Nemesis, Punisher, Obliterator and SRI. Cheers!
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Damage Equation What?
In the older version of Neocron, there used to simply be one percentage # for damage in parentheses i.e. (142%) Now, it looks like: 44% (=59% x 74%) I have not been able to have these numbers explained. Obviously the 44% is derived from .59 x .74, but where do these numbers come from? I compared a "bad" storebought TL30 assault rifle vs a consted perfect TL30 assault rifle on my rifle P.E. (dex level 60ish) and only one of the two numbers is different....also, I notice that my character does more damage with lower TL weapons than higher tl weapons of the dame type. Lastly, I noticed that when i cast a Rifle Booster spell, the damage equation numbers go up-but when I add or remove R-C or WEP points, the equation doesnt change. Also after removing imps, the equation doesnt change. Anyome know what these numbers mean?
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