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. After each hyperspace jump, and there are several, you’re jolted back into consciousness, just to remember that you’re sandwiched between two very smelly aliens. On the bright side, they don’t seem to mind if you use their, uh, puffy limbs as pillows. Without the assistance of the shadowy figure, this coach seat was all you could put on your credit account.
PC: That’s unfortunate. I cast sleep on myself. Do I have to use an action?
GM: If you could do it in combat, you can do it here. No action needed. Don’t worry about the MP cost, you’ll recover those points by the time the flight is complete. 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.