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HMEDIAN.NPC
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1996-02-28
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376 lines
FILE HMEDIAN.NPC
//------
BEGIN_NPC
BEGIN_DESCRIPTION
"Yaaaiiii!!!" A far-off scream makes you turn around to see a scrawny,
dirty, young man running right at you. From the mowhawk and his general
thinness, you think it's probably safe to assume he's a big-time drug addict.
He has some small gun he's pointing at you as he runs. But when he gets close,
he suddenly stops and looks confused like maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
Then he starts yelling and waving the pistol around again.
END_DESCRIPTION
BEGIN_TALK_TEXT
You try talking to the young man while he momentarily calms down, but it's
all gibberish. "Die pig! Capone'll give me some good shit for this. Safety
off? Good. Hm, hungry. Argh!"
END_TALK_TEXT
BEGIN_WON_TEXT
The Scrawny Punk is lousy but manages to squeeze off a few lucky hits. The
last one gets you right in the throat. Blood sprays everywhere as you fall
screaming and choking to the ground. In seconds, you're surrounded by a pool
of your own blood and lose consciousness.
END_WON_TEXT
BEGIN_LOST_TEXT
A couple of good hits drop the punk screaming and bleeding horribly to the
ground. He thrashes around, still firing off a few shots, as he quickly starts
dieing.
END_LOST_TEXT
BEGIN_STATS
NAME Scrawny Punk
LEVEL 3
RACE human
CLASS criminal
REACTION combative
COMBATTYPE kamikaze
SEX male
POWERTYPE none
POWERVAL 0
STR 30
MEL 35
RAN 40
DEX 55
STA 45
CHA 35
MONEY 14
BOUNTY 36
WEAPON1 HWEAPONS.TXT .38 Special
WEAPON2 HWEAPONS.TXT SwissArmy Knife
ARMOUR HARMOUR.TXT Sweater
DISTANCE 40
END_STATS
END_NPC
//------
BEGIN_NPC
BEGIN_DESCRIPTION
A man sporting some fairly heavy-duty gear comes around a corner and leans
against the wall, laughing quietly to himself. He doesn't look like a
criminal, more like an exterminator. Suddenly, he stops laughing and quickly
draws an assault rifle on you.
END_DESCRIPTION
BEGIN_TALK_TEXT
"Me?" the man asks. "I'm no one. Sure, I used to be an exterminator. No
more! That bitch CAT screwed me over with some bad info. And there was that
accident with the civilians making me look bad. It's just not the life for me.
It's not the life for you either as you're about to see..."
END_TALK_TEXT
BEGIN_WON_TEXT
The ex-exterminator fires a few bursts into the air, laughing aloud.
"There just not making exterminators like they used to! Hahah!" His laughing
is the last thing you hear as you lose consciousness.
END_WON_TEXT
BEGIN_LOST_TEXT
Your last hit drops the ex-exterminator bleeding like a fountain to the
ground. He opens his mouth to scream in pain, but nothing comes out. In no
time, most of his blood is now outside his body, pooling quickly. In a moment
he's dead.
END_LOST_TEXT
BEGIN_STATS
NAME Ex-exterminator
LEVEL 3
RACE human
CLASS criminal
REACTION neutral
COMBATTYPE range
SEX male
POWERTYPE none
POWERVAL 0
STR 35
MEL 35
RAN 51
DEX 45
STA 35
CHA 40
MONEY 32
BOUNTY 49
WEAPON1 HMACHINE.TXT AK-74 Assault
WEAPON2 HMELEE.TXT Bowie Knife
ARMOUR HARMOUR.TXT Kevlar Vest
DISTANCE 40
END_STATS
END_NPC
//------
BEGIN_NPC
BEGIN_DESCRIPTION
<BLAM!> From aways off, a shot rings out and drops you on the ground.
You're stunned, but not in pain. Checking yourself over, you realize you're
not hurt. The shot must have ricocheted cleanly off your armour.
You start to get to your feet, just as a man carrying a sniper rifle comes
into view. Seeing you get up clearly surprises him. "Thought I pegged another
one. Oh well. Just haveta take ya this way..." he says and lowers the sniper
rifle on you.
END_DESCRIPTION
BEGIN_TALK_TEXT
"You're very lucky. I'll give you that. Your luck's about to end though.
I won't miss a second time..." The man's spent too much time in the city.
From his slurred speach and darting eyes, you can tell he's not all there.
END_TALK_TEXT
BEGIN_WON_TEXT
He's good with his rifle. A few great hits blows holes in your knees,
stomach, and shoulders. All you can do now, is lay there bleeding until
death comes for you.
END_WON_TEXT
BEGIN_LOST_TEXT
The Sniper is used to taking his time and firing at a distance. For this
close-up combat, you clearly have an advantage. A few good hits take him
down and a few more stop his thrashing and screaming.
END_LOST_TEXT
BEGIN_STATS
NAME Sniper
LEVEL 3
RACE human
CLASS criminal
REACTION combative
COMBATTYPE range
SEX male
POWERTYPE none
POWERVAL 0
STR 30
MEL 25
RAN 55
DEX 35
STA 38
CHA 23
MONEY 18
BOUNTY 38
WEAPON1 HWEAPONS.TXT Sniper Rifle
WEAPON2 none
ARMOUR HARMOUR.TXT Flak Jacket
DISTANCE 50
END_STATS
END_NPC
//------
BEGIN_NPC
BEGIN_DESCRIPTION
A man in a white complete leather sport bike outfit, including the helmet,
walks casually towards you. You can see him carrying a pump action sawed-off
shotgun. He says nothing as he walks at you, but when he lifts the shotgun
and levels it on you, his intentions are clear.
END_DESCRIPTION
BEGIN_TALK_TEXT
He doesn't even attempt to talk through the face shield on his helmet. He
just ignores you and keeps walking forward. Moving quickly into a point-blank
range.
END_TALK_TEXT
BEGIN_WON_TEXT
The last blast from the Sport Biker falls you. He walks casually over to
your dieing body, rests the muzzle on your chest, and fires off another round
to finish you.
END_WON_TEXT
BEGIN_LOST_TEXT
It took a lot of hits to finally take down the Sport Biker. More than it
should have. He must have been a mutant of some kind. Not any more though.
Now he's just a whole lot of dead flesh. Vulture food.
END_LOST_TEXT
BEGIN_STATS
NAME Sport Biker
LEVEL 3
RACE human
CLASS criminal
REACTION combative
COMBATTYPE kamikaze
SEX male
POWERTYPE thick_skin
POWERVAL 0
STR 35
MEL 35
RAN 48
DEX 43
STA 41
CHA 34
MONEY 7
BOUNTY 38
WEAPON1 HWEAPONS.TXT Pump Shotgun
WEAPON2 HWEAPONS.TXT Bowie Knife
ARMOUR HARMOUR.TXT CompleteLeather
DISTANCE 30
END_STATS
END_NPC
//------
BEGIN_NPC
BEGIN_DESCRIPTION
You hear a voice from behind you and spin around to see who tempts fate.
"Toll time... This is Rat Gang turf." A scrawny street punk steps out from
the shadows and pulls out a .44 Magnum.
END_DESCRIPTION
BEGIN_TALK_TEXT
"Shut da fuck up. You ain't Rat Gang. That makes you rat food."
END_TALK_TEXT
BEGIN_WON_TEXT
The Street Punk let's out a squeaky laugh as you drop to your knees.
"Heh-hee! Snagged me a'xterminator!" He runs up and kicks you in the head
with all his scrawny might, breaking your jaw and smashing out a good many
teeth. His grinning mug is the last thing you see before the blackness of
death claims your vision.
END_WON_TEXT
BEGIN_LOST_TEXT
The Street Punk falls forward with a thud. You notice a rat run out from
somewhere inside his jacket and scurry into the shadows.
END_LOST_TEXT
BEGIN_STATS
NAME Rat Gang Punk
LEVEL 3
RACE human
CLASS criminal
REACTION combative
COMBATTYPE kamikaze
SEX male
POWERTYPE none
POWERVAL 0
STR 30
MEL 35
RAN 42
DEX 38
STA 40
CHA 25
MONEY 16
BOUNTY 34
WEAPON1 HWEAPONS.TXT .44 Magnum
WEAPON2 none
ARMOUR HARMOUR.TXT Flak Jacket
DISTANCE 40
END_STATS
END_NPC
//------
BEGIN_NPC
BEGIN_DESCRIPTION
Unbelievably, a man in a ludicrous clown outfit walks into view. He's got
the works: curly red wig, big red nose, white face, baggy clothes, big shoes.
The only thing out of place is some kind of rifle slung behind his back.
He has a rather sad face painted on though.
END_DESCRIPTION
BEGIN_TALK_TEXT
"Never heard of the Clowns?" the clown asks. "You'll remember me. Count
on it..." He expertly unslings the rifle from his shoulder.
END_TALK_TEXT
BEGIN_WON_TEXT
You're down. The clown towers over you smiling through his frowning painted
face. Perhaps he didn't expect to take you so easily, but he seems really
pleased with himself. Slowly the lights fade and you're out.
END_WON_TEXT
BEGIN_LOST_TEXT
Blood and make-up swim silently around together in a large pool surrounding
the fallen clown. He grimaces in pain, swears violently, and makes all kinds
of useless threats. In moments, with only a little more help, it's all over
for him.
END_LOST_TEXT
BEGIN_STATS
NAME Clown
LEVEL 3
RACE human
CLASS criminal
REACTION combative
COMBATTYPE kamikaze
SEX male
POWERTYPE none
POWERVAL 0
STR 35
MEL 30
RAN 45
DEX 53
STA 41
CHA 54
MONEY 13
BOUNTY 38
WEAPON1 HWEAPONS.TXT .45 Rifle
WEAPON2 HWEAPONR.TXT Large Red Nose
ARMOUR HARMOUR.TXT Kevlar Vest
DISTANCE 50
END_STATS
END_NPC
//------
BEGIN_NPC
BEGIN_DESCRIPTION
You spot a confused looking man in medieval-style chain mail armour walk
into view. Something is slung over his back. It looks like a crossbow, but
it's tough to tell. He must have gotten lost from the park and doesn't know
how to get back.
END_DESCRIPTION
BEGIN_TALK_TEXT
"Hello, good sir," the crossbowman starts. "I'm a bit lost. I followed
someone out of the park but lost them, and lost myself. How does one get back
to the park from here? Oh, fear not for me, I picked up a little something
while I was out here to level things off a bit..." He reaches behind his back
and pulls out a .44 Magnum.
END_TALK_TEXT
BEGIN_WON_TEXT
He's actually pretty good with the .45 he pulled from behind his back.
After he's dropped you, he puts the pistol away and unslings his crossbow.
Towering over you, he fires a couple of bolts into you just to make sure.
END_WON_TEXT
BEGIN_LOST_TEXT
Out of his element, the Crossbowman doesn't stand a chance. He's not very
good with the .45 he pulled out from behind his back, but the crossbow just
wouldn't cut it out here. A few good hits dropped him with ease. Guess he
should have stuck to the park's forest.
END_LOST_TEXT
BEGIN_STATS
NAME Lost Crossbowman
LEVEL 3
RACE human
CLASS criminal
REACTION combative
COMBATTYPE kamikaze
SEX male
POWERTYPE none
POWERVAL 0
STR 30
MEL 20
RAN 65
DEX 40
STA 38
CHA 43
MONEY 4
BOUNTY 35
WEAPON1 HWEAPONS.TXT .44 Magnum
WEAPON2 HWEAPONS.TXT Crossbow
ARMOUR HARMOURR.TXT Partial Chain
DISTANCE 40
END_STATS
END_NPC