GM: The mindscape ends, and you start making preparations for your journey. You go back home to your pod, which is decorated with the exact statutory-limit, market value of goods that limits the decoration of all pods. What’s in it, and what do you prepare?
PC: Um, not much. My cat. Some house plants. Some books on meditation…
GM: Books have been outlawed. You are allowed to virtua-borrow any texts you like, however. Any that are available to you.
PC: Oh. Then I keep my virtual-reality glasses on a little shrine, because that’s my only access to old Zen writings. I tell my roombot to feed the cat – I’ll be gone for a while.
GM: Are you taking any future-togas besides white ones?
PC: Good question. It’s hard to be stealthy in white. Unless all the buildings are white?
GM: That’s a good point. There’s a lot of white that you’d blend into well. The other primary outdoors colors are the green of the GMO grass and holo-blue that they project onto most skylines. You might have to go indoors at some point, though.
PC: I’ll be okay. I can’t pack too heavy; my tiny suitcase doesn’t hold much.
GM: Okay. Roll a mental contest to see if you remembered everything.
PC: That sounds risky! Am I going to find out I’m missing something in the climactic scene?
GM: That depends on what you roll. Obviously, you’ll pack everything you declare, and your psionic circlet.
PC: Okay, I’ll use my hero point to trigger my memory enhancement power. Let’s see if I forget anything now…(roll d20 plus 0 mental bonus points plus d6 for the hero point) 22. I think I remembered everything!
GM: (Makes a note) okay. You soon find yourself dozing off on an inter-system flight to Arswhere Beta. You’re jolted back to consciousness each time the ship makes a hyperspace jump, and there are several. When you awaken, you find yourself in a large, stitched-leather recliner set in the middle of a huge farm pasture, just as the sun is setting. The chirping birds and insects are very soothing.
PC: Virtual reality?
GM: Indeed. The ticket that the Circle delivered to you was for first-class. Not a bad deal. After another jolt, when you’re finally too frustrated to sleep, the in-your-head voice of the virtual attendant announces your arrival. Exiting the craft, a real attendant who might be human, except for the tentacles, hands you your travel bag and you ride the people-mover through the eight required scanners to the Fog Teleporter.
PC: The Fog what?
GM: The atmosphere is too chaotic for travel here. It’s effectively a thick poison cloud, so people teleport from dome to dome, under which daily life takes place.
PC: Great, so I have to teleport to the front door of the temple?
GM: Well, you can reference the 2D/Holographic tour guide on the outside of the FT when the tourist family ahead of you is done with it. It might answer that question for you.
PC: Nope. I’m not waiting on tourists. I hop in the teleporter and tell it I’m going to the temple of Ninety Moons.