<strong>“I think I will take my chances for the opportunity to discover a girl like you for the sim-scene.”</strong>Orell replied and fiddled with a bit of sensegear, untangling the tiny electrodes and wires. The girl proceeded to strike a few poses for the twin camera lenses and Vladimir captured her beauty in 3D.<strong>“Could you… bend over a litte more?”</strong>Orell asked, innocently enough.<strong>“<em>Yes</em>, that’s marvellous! That’s the girl we want to see.”</strong>He praised when she did so. They proceeded like that for a while, Irina striking poses and him encouraging her to go the extra mile, to show that little bit more of her delicious curves. The business he wanted to recruit her for was not exactly PG-13, and even though he would need to work her quite a bit more before any monetizable footage could be produced, it wouldn’t hurt to softly nudge her in the right direction. Irina Sarkova was no Maria Mercurial, but she had just enough fame that people would pay a handy nuyen to see her shed her dignity, piece by piece. And they would pay quite a bit more if they could do it<em>themselves</em>, up close and personal, a service that Orell was planning to offer once her trideo sales started to decline again. ‘Playing with dolls’ required patience, but the payoffs could be worth it. If nothing else, if she proved to be resistant to his charms – and his toys – then he might just have to sell her off to some bunraku parlor, even if that felt like a waste: Seeing her pose for him, obeying his instructions to bend a little bit more, to twist and swirl for his viewing pleasure, Orell knew he really had to make this girl<em>his</em>. Irina was elegant. She had the face of an angel, on top of a dancer’s body. And she had that certain poise, an<em>attitude</em>in her movements, that spelled either sex… or death. He wasn’t even an expert on the genre – his flicks tended to be the old in-and-out with sensetracks turned up to the max – but this Irina girl would be great for action simsense.<br/><br/><strong>“Let’s try something new.”</strong>Orell said and approached her with a set of ‘trodes’, a tiny web of wires and contact pads that would allow him to record not just her beauty, but also her senses, her feelings. “I think you have great potential.” He said to reassure her as he attached the web to her head.<strong>“It’s only for studio use.”</strong>He explained as Irina looked sceptically at the complex and bulky system; this wasn’t the 50s: modern ‘trodes fit into a narrow headband or could be attached to the back of the neck.<strong>“We will have something smaller that we can hide underneath your hair for the actual shooting.”</strong>He promised and moved behind the stacked decks of hardware at his recording station.<br/><br/><strong>“Are you ready for this?”</strong>Orell asked and powered on the system, watching the screen as her various sensetracks started to flicker and move. In truth, Vladimir would do the recording while he was monitoring something else: Her emotions.<strong>“The camera loves you!”</strong>He encouraged Irina and watched her readings move. So far, so good, Orell nodded and reached out to adjust a slider on his mixer board just a tiny notch. After all, there was a reason why he used a full web of ‘trodes instead of just the recording set: with<em>this</em>gear, he could make Irina love the camera.<strong>“Give us some feels!”</strong>He instructed Irina and adjusted a few more sliders, mixing in a little more excitement and a bit of arousal, in sync with hearing his words. He would start slow, letting her adjust to the synthetic feelings and work his way up from there. His fingers danced over the keyboard as he set up a quick little program that would automatically give her the sensation automatically when it picked up his audio signature. For now, it was just a tiny rise in excitement every time he spoke. Not quite butterflies, but close. Eventually, she would swoon just from hearing his voice. But for now, he was content if she would just like him a little bit more.<br/><br/><strong>“Now how about you tell us – the viewers I mean – a little bit more about yourself and why it’s worth their while to watch you, to <em>feel</em> you!”</strong>Orell said and adjusted his sliders. It was fun to watch her emotions tracks dance at his touch, as if she was a puppet and he was holding her strings. Now the big challenge was to keep her ignorant while he slowly increased the pace of the game, demanding more risqué poses and giving her more intrusive 'incentives' with his sensedeck.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">Roll Result: Irina rolled: 3d6<br/>Second Target Number: 5<br/>Comment: Street Drugs 1 + Logic 2<br/>Result: 4, 6, 6, <br/>For: 1, 1, 0, <br/>Total: 2<br/>Result: Irina is aware that she has been drugged. And, slowly, her fogged mind realizes that it was not necessarily something the <em>club</em> did. After all, she had had some drug experiences before, even if it was not all that many. While she can’t name the substance and has no idea who gave it to her, it feels like something date-rapey.<br/><br/><br/>Roll Result: Irina rolled: 8d6<br/>Second Target Number: 5<br/>Comment: Perception 3 + Charisma 5<br/>Result: 3, 3, 5, 2, 4, 1, 6, 5, <br/>For: 1, 1, 1, 0, 0, 0, 0, 0, <br/>Total: 3<br/>Result: Although this is a good roll in principle, it is tech related and thus a glitch due to Irinas horrible, horrible Gremlins 3. (Seriously how does this girl survive in the modern, wireless word?) So I will rule that she is aware that something is wrong with her feelings but she has no idea that it is Orell’s doing. She will either think it’s the drugs, a glitch in the hardware, or she will suspect magical influence. <br/></div></div>