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corporate enclave
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corporate enclave
Metalmek Lun 30 Juin 2008, 12:44 am
MANHATTAN
Manhattan is the corporate citadel of the Western world, where the Corporate Court sits on a gilded throne and the robber barons of the Manhattan Development Consortium keep the wage-serfs happy through rampant consumerism and omnimedia saturation. While Neo-Tokyo evolved from the organic sprawl of Tokyo, the plasticrete and glass canyons of Manhattan were rebuilt from the cemented ruins of the Quake of 2005 as a corporate dream city.
The city has come a long way since those days, when an American government deep in debt, depleted by the ressource Rush and paralyzed by incompetence, could not deliver on the rebuilding of a ruined Manhattan. Instead, they expropriated the island and sold it to a group of corporations who promised to restore the city to its former glory. The rebuilding was a painfully long forty-year process, but today the city’s scars have been almost completely hidden under the plastic surgery of retro-modernist architecture and corporate social engineering. Almost.
MANHATTAN, INC.
The Manhattan Development Consortium—or Manhattan, Inc., as it is sometimes known—is a private real estate investment trust with a fixed membership of thirteen shareholders. Through the MDC, these thirteen shareholder corporations effectively own all the land on the island of Manhattan. They lease it out to developers of their choosing and collect part of the rent; funds which were originally intended to go fully into the redevelopment of the quake-battered city but have been going into the pockets of the member corporations for decades now.
> A Consortium member can be ousted by a unanimous vote of the other twelve, but in order for that to happen, a buyer for the outstanding shares must be already lined up before the vote. The founding edicts require that there must always be thirteen shareholders, each owning approximately 7.6923 percent of the MDC’s stock.
> Mr. Bonds
The other major power in Manhattan is the Corporate Court, which maintains its terrestrial headquarters in Lower Manhattan. Probably containing the single highest density of corporate lawyers and economists on the planet, these offices also host meetings where the staff s of each Justice regularly meet with representatives from corporations interacting with the Court. Ancillary offices, administrative services, AA-delegates, and firms of lawyers and lobbyists occupy every useable building in a radius of several blocks. Zurich Orbital may be where the decisions are made, but New York is where it all comes together.
> The Corporate Court moved into the former Fuchi towers on the old World Trade Center site when the Japanacorp went under. It’s fitting the way the triad of 250-story black skyrakers looks down on the entire city.
> Haze
THE ROTTEN APPLE
Manhattan is strictly divided along class lines, a social hierarchy enforced by an invisible cage of RFID tags, SINs, and metropolitan passes. The city layers various levels of access passes onto every resident or visitor’s SIN, which are read by the millions of verification sensors dotting the island. For instance, a Personal Vehicle Pass is required in order to drive a car on the island, and these passes are usually reserved for VIPs only. An Authorized Commuter Pass is required to use the elevated trains and automated buses that run uptown. Many upscale stores and restaurants limit entry to holders of particular passes, a social guarantee that their posh clientele won’t have to rub shoulders with lesser citizens.
> If you’re SINless, good luck. The only places you won’t be hassled are Terminal and the Lower East Side. You can’t own a car, and you can only ride the Midtown/Downtown subway system. Many doors won’t open for you—literally. If you’re a SINless shadowrunner, make friends with a good forger or make sure your Johnson supplies you with a fake identity.
> Fatima
> If your run calls for having a vehicle, a good way around the driving limitation is to get a forged or stolen Commercial Vehicle Pass. These are often available to companies maintaining large drones that need to use the roadways, like trucking, construction, and garbage collection corporations.
> Turbo Bunny
The ubiquitous web of surveillance is natural to Manhattan residents, many of whom clung to it early as a security blanket against the violent chaos that followed the Quake. Today it is embraced, and the lack of privacy is almost celebrated. Manhattan residents broadcast their lives openly over “Me-Feeds,” sharing news of their daily lives or even sensory data straight from their point of view—no doubt one of the inspirations for Horizon’s P2 technology. Everyone tries for the fifteen minutes of viral fame that can make their Me-Feed a hit and have the entire city tuning in. Midtown is where a lot of the corp types gather for recreation and socializing. The crowds are too fashionable and bizspeak for my taste, but the partying at the hot clubs like Matador and Wright’s tends to be powered by quasi-legal fixes handed out by corp-sanctioned pharmacists.
Crime is low in many upscale neighborhoods in Manhattan, partially because everyone is watching their neighbors constantly through feeds and cameras, a super-localized neighborhood watch reality show. Anything that gets away is subject to the security drones that loiter high above, continuously scanning the streets.
> Security is so tight that pretty much any vehicle or equipment you use has to be expendable or hot so it won’t be backtracked to you. Don’t forget to tack the extra expense onto your fees.
> Glitch
> There’s a strong neo-anarchist subculture in New York City. It grew out of the displaced masses shoved into Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx and spread to Terminal and the Lower East Side on Manhattan. These guys are classic neo-a’s, the true old school that helped build the early shadownets. Tearing down the structures of control that the corporations have put in place in Manhattan is their favorite pastime. They can also be a runner’s best friend, assuming you haven’t cozied up to a corp.
> Marcos
> While organized crime stays white collar in Manhattan, a few small-time outfits eke out a living selling BTLs and gray market goods in back alleys and corners. Smuggling people and goods onto the island is highly profi table, and if you need a backdoor into corp central, look for the Rat Pack or the Janeski vor in Queens.
> Hard Exit
BOTH SIDES OF THE FENCE
Manhattan may be kept safe by its absolute corporate control, but so many corporations on one small island means an endless supply of work for shadowrunners. But just as Manhattan is cleanly divided between the haves and the have-nots, the shadows are divided also. Every shadowrunner operating in Manhattan confronts a choice: face the difficult life of a SINless freelancer in a city of constant surveillance or sell your soul to a megacorporation for easy access to the city as a company man.
> Becoming a company man may feel like selling out, but it offers a SINless runner a way out of the hard life on the streets. There aren’t many other options out there.
> Mihoshi Oni
> It feels like selling out, because it is! Corporate lapdogs make me sick. They think the company will take care of them, but the corps will hang you out to dry without the least bit of hesitation. I prefer real friends.
> Black Mamba
> Then you should work on making some.
> Ma’fan
Freelance shadowrunners operate out of the few places in Manhattan where they won’t be given a hard time, largely the Terminal Z-Zone around Port Authority and Penn Station and the Lower East Side in Downtown Manhattan. Cops stick to the fringes of those neighborhoods, and SIN scanners are torn down as fast as they go up by the local neo-a’s. Aside from extractions that require high deniability, freelancers are more likely to get jobs spawned by internal corporate rivalry, the type of stuff that Mr. Johnson’s boss can’t find out about. Blackmail, self-extractions, and even wetwork are common gigs for freelancers. But because there’s no corporation backing you up, you often have to steal or forge enough of a legal identity to operate in the places where the run needs to go down.
> The place to be seen if you are a freelancer is the Post, the old General Post Office near Penn Station. The steps are chock full of junkies, thieves, and couriers, and the big ol’ columns are plastered with neo-anarchist creed. It’s the most alive place in all of Manhattan—but don’t wave a credstick around or you might get shivved.
> Slamm-0!
Company men are shadowrunners who have been taken in by a patron corporation and put on retainer. They are given a steady line of credit that is adjusted as necessary when jobs come down the line, and they are supplied with a solid cover identity (or identities) built by the corporation’s hackers. Despite all this, they will never appear on a company payroll and the company will never officially acknowledge their existence. Company men must also take the jobs they are given without question; only freelancers have the freedom to turn down work (if they can afford to). A team of company men usually has a regular Mr. Johnson who acts as a handler for the group, and the jobs are typically runs against competing corporations.
> Be wary if you’re a company man and your jobs start looking like inside work. C-men can get pulled into dirty internal politics, and when that happens it is almost always very bad for the little guy.
> Cosmo
MANHATTAN DEVELOPMENT
CONSORTIUM MEMBERS (CIRCA 2071)
Ares Macrotechnology
Aztechnology
Citigroup
Horizon Corporation
NeoNET
NYPD, Incorporated
Prometheus Engineering
Renraku Computer Systems
Saeder-Krupp
Shiawase Corporation
Sony Corporation
Spinrad Industries
TransOrbital
“Fuck the feeds! Kill the cameras! Turn off and wake up, New York. We are Big Brother. Manhattan is a police state and we are our own jailers. Life is meant to be lived, not viewed over the feeds by an audience. Security is not staring over the shoulders of our brothers and sisters, waiting with bated breath to catch their faults and indiscretions, anxious to turn them into a public spectacle. You are all pets, pets of the corporate thieves high up in their Midtown towers. The tastemakers, the infl uence peddlers, the high society who make you dance on strings that they pull. Cut the strings! Bring down the surveillance network! Take back New York!”
—Neo-anarchist speech at the Post in Terminal,March, 2071
Manhattan is the corporate citadel of the Western world, where the Corporate Court sits on a gilded throne and the robber barons of the Manhattan Development Consortium keep the wage-serfs happy through rampant consumerism and omnimedia saturation. While Neo-Tokyo evolved from the organic sprawl of Tokyo, the plasticrete and glass canyons of Manhattan were rebuilt from the cemented ruins of the Quake of 2005 as a corporate dream city.
The city has come a long way since those days, when an American government deep in debt, depleted by the ressource Rush and paralyzed by incompetence, could not deliver on the rebuilding of a ruined Manhattan. Instead, they expropriated the island and sold it to a group of corporations who promised to restore the city to its former glory. The rebuilding was a painfully long forty-year process, but today the city’s scars have been almost completely hidden under the plastic surgery of retro-modernist architecture and corporate social engineering. Almost.
MANHATTAN, INC.
The Manhattan Development Consortium—or Manhattan, Inc., as it is sometimes known—is a private real estate investment trust with a fixed membership of thirteen shareholders. Through the MDC, these thirteen shareholder corporations effectively own all the land on the island of Manhattan. They lease it out to developers of their choosing and collect part of the rent; funds which were originally intended to go fully into the redevelopment of the quake-battered city but have been going into the pockets of the member corporations for decades now.
> A Consortium member can be ousted by a unanimous vote of the other twelve, but in order for that to happen, a buyer for the outstanding shares must be already lined up before the vote. The founding edicts require that there must always be thirteen shareholders, each owning approximately 7.6923 percent of the MDC’s stock.
> Mr. Bonds
The other major power in Manhattan is the Corporate Court, which maintains its terrestrial headquarters in Lower Manhattan. Probably containing the single highest density of corporate lawyers and economists on the planet, these offices also host meetings where the staff s of each Justice regularly meet with representatives from corporations interacting with the Court. Ancillary offices, administrative services, AA-delegates, and firms of lawyers and lobbyists occupy every useable building in a radius of several blocks. Zurich Orbital may be where the decisions are made, but New York is where it all comes together.
> The Corporate Court moved into the former Fuchi towers on the old World Trade Center site when the Japanacorp went under. It’s fitting the way the triad of 250-story black skyrakers looks down on the entire city.
> Haze
THE ROTTEN APPLE
Manhattan is strictly divided along class lines, a social hierarchy enforced by an invisible cage of RFID tags, SINs, and metropolitan passes. The city layers various levels of access passes onto every resident or visitor’s SIN, which are read by the millions of verification sensors dotting the island. For instance, a Personal Vehicle Pass is required in order to drive a car on the island, and these passes are usually reserved for VIPs only. An Authorized Commuter Pass is required to use the elevated trains and automated buses that run uptown. Many upscale stores and restaurants limit entry to holders of particular passes, a social guarantee that their posh clientele won’t have to rub shoulders with lesser citizens.
> If you’re SINless, good luck. The only places you won’t be hassled are Terminal and the Lower East Side. You can’t own a car, and you can only ride the Midtown/Downtown subway system. Many doors won’t open for you—literally. If you’re a SINless shadowrunner, make friends with a good forger or make sure your Johnson supplies you with a fake identity.
> Fatima
> If your run calls for having a vehicle, a good way around the driving limitation is to get a forged or stolen Commercial Vehicle Pass. These are often available to companies maintaining large drones that need to use the roadways, like trucking, construction, and garbage collection corporations.
> Turbo Bunny
The ubiquitous web of surveillance is natural to Manhattan residents, many of whom clung to it early as a security blanket against the violent chaos that followed the Quake. Today it is embraced, and the lack of privacy is almost celebrated. Manhattan residents broadcast their lives openly over “Me-Feeds,” sharing news of their daily lives or even sensory data straight from their point of view—no doubt one of the inspirations for Horizon’s P2 technology. Everyone tries for the fifteen minutes of viral fame that can make their Me-Feed a hit and have the entire city tuning in. Midtown is where a lot of the corp types gather for recreation and socializing. The crowds are too fashionable and bizspeak for my taste, but the partying at the hot clubs like Matador and Wright’s tends to be powered by quasi-legal fixes handed out by corp-sanctioned pharmacists.
Crime is low in many upscale neighborhoods in Manhattan, partially because everyone is watching their neighbors constantly through feeds and cameras, a super-localized neighborhood watch reality show. Anything that gets away is subject to the security drones that loiter high above, continuously scanning the streets.
> Security is so tight that pretty much any vehicle or equipment you use has to be expendable or hot so it won’t be backtracked to you. Don’t forget to tack the extra expense onto your fees.
> Glitch
> There’s a strong neo-anarchist subculture in New York City. It grew out of the displaced masses shoved into Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx and spread to Terminal and the Lower East Side on Manhattan. These guys are classic neo-a’s, the true old school that helped build the early shadownets. Tearing down the structures of control that the corporations have put in place in Manhattan is their favorite pastime. They can also be a runner’s best friend, assuming you haven’t cozied up to a corp.
> Marcos
> While organized crime stays white collar in Manhattan, a few small-time outfits eke out a living selling BTLs and gray market goods in back alleys and corners. Smuggling people and goods onto the island is highly profi table, and if you need a backdoor into corp central, look for the Rat Pack or the Janeski vor in Queens.
> Hard Exit
BOTH SIDES OF THE FENCE
Manhattan may be kept safe by its absolute corporate control, but so many corporations on one small island means an endless supply of work for shadowrunners. But just as Manhattan is cleanly divided between the haves and the have-nots, the shadows are divided also. Every shadowrunner operating in Manhattan confronts a choice: face the difficult life of a SINless freelancer in a city of constant surveillance or sell your soul to a megacorporation for easy access to the city as a company man.
> Becoming a company man may feel like selling out, but it offers a SINless runner a way out of the hard life on the streets. There aren’t many other options out there.
> Mihoshi Oni
> It feels like selling out, because it is! Corporate lapdogs make me sick. They think the company will take care of them, but the corps will hang you out to dry without the least bit of hesitation. I prefer real friends.
> Black Mamba
> Then you should work on making some.
> Ma’fan
Freelance shadowrunners operate out of the few places in Manhattan where they won’t be given a hard time, largely the Terminal Z-Zone around Port Authority and Penn Station and the Lower East Side in Downtown Manhattan. Cops stick to the fringes of those neighborhoods, and SIN scanners are torn down as fast as they go up by the local neo-a’s. Aside from extractions that require high deniability, freelancers are more likely to get jobs spawned by internal corporate rivalry, the type of stuff that Mr. Johnson’s boss can’t find out about. Blackmail, self-extractions, and even wetwork are common gigs for freelancers. But because there’s no corporation backing you up, you often have to steal or forge enough of a legal identity to operate in the places where the run needs to go down.
> The place to be seen if you are a freelancer is the Post, the old General Post Office near Penn Station. The steps are chock full of junkies, thieves, and couriers, and the big ol’ columns are plastered with neo-anarchist creed. It’s the most alive place in all of Manhattan—but don’t wave a credstick around or you might get shivved.
> Slamm-0!
Company men are shadowrunners who have been taken in by a patron corporation and put on retainer. They are given a steady line of credit that is adjusted as necessary when jobs come down the line, and they are supplied with a solid cover identity (or identities) built by the corporation’s hackers. Despite all this, they will never appear on a company payroll and the company will never officially acknowledge their existence. Company men must also take the jobs they are given without question; only freelancers have the freedom to turn down work (if they can afford to). A team of company men usually has a regular Mr. Johnson who acts as a handler for the group, and the jobs are typically runs against competing corporations.
> Be wary if you’re a company man and your jobs start looking like inside work. C-men can get pulled into dirty internal politics, and when that happens it is almost always very bad for the little guy.
> Cosmo
MANHATTAN DEVELOPMENT
CONSORTIUM MEMBERS (CIRCA 2071)
Ares Macrotechnology
Aztechnology
Citigroup
Horizon Corporation
NeoNET
NYPD, Incorporated
Prometheus Engineering
Renraku Computer Systems
Saeder-Krupp
Shiawase Corporation
Sony Corporation
Spinrad Industries
TransOrbital
“Fuck the feeds! Kill the cameras! Turn off and wake up, New York. We are Big Brother. Manhattan is a police state and we are our own jailers. Life is meant to be lived, not viewed over the feeds by an audience. Security is not staring over the shoulders of our brothers and sisters, waiting with bated breath to catch their faults and indiscretions, anxious to turn them into a public spectacle. You are all pets, pets of the corporate thieves high up in their Midtown towers. The tastemakers, the infl uence peddlers, the high society who make you dance on strings that they pull. Cut the strings! Bring down the surveillance network! Take back New York!”
—Neo-anarchist speech at the Post in Terminal,March, 2071
Metalmek- Gobelin avec le point de vie éternel
- Messages : 925
Date d'inscription : 14/04/2008
Age : 50 -
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