Puyallup

Seattle 2072, pp. 123–130

Puyallup at a Glance

Size	1,008 km²
Population	≈ 506,000
Population Density	502/km²
Human	48%
Elf	21%
Dwarf	4%
Ork	22%
Troll	4%
Other	1%
Corporate-Affiliated	18%
Per Capita Income	6,200¥
Major Corp. Facilities	None
Hospitals and Clinics	6
Voting Precincts	10
Education
< 12 Years	81%
High School / GED	16%
College Equivalency	3%
Postgraduate	<1%

Although Redmond—and all of Seattle—has changed a great deal, the district of the metroplex that has changed the most, to the point where people from fifty or sixty years ago would never recognize it, is Puyallup. An area that used to be wide stretches of fertile farmland and apple orchards (I’ve seen pictures) was buried under tons of volcanic ash in 2017 when Mt. Rainier erupted. Then came the refugees of the Ghost Dance War, with their tent cities and semi-permanent encampments, then the metahumans fleeing the fires of the Night of Rage, looking for shelter. Then more volcanic eruptions, waves of changelings, mob violence … now a steady stream of debris—both ash and people—trickles into the Puyallup Barrens.

People only come to Puyallup to hide, or because they have no other choices left. The district is home to the indigent and the exiled. In particular, it sees a fair number of “immigrants” from Tir Tairngire, mostly elven exiles from “the Land of Promise” or young elves who think Seattle is an exciting and happening place where you can rock out, be different, and not have to conform to the complex customs of somebody’s idea of fairyland. All true, but they usually don’t know about the harsh and grimy realities until they show up here with nothing but some cred in their pockets and a dream of a different life. A lot of those dreams wash up in Puyallup, same with some of the kids who come from the NAN, California, and even further away. The tourists only come to Puyallup to see the spectacular lava fields, or maybe to slum in some of the nightspots, but even then they usually travel in armored helicopters and limos, and they don’t linger.

Compared to the Redmond, Puyallup is sparse: both in terms of people and places. It has about twice the area of Redmond with probably around half the population density, although large swaths of Puyallup are practically uninhabitable (but then, you can say the same about Redmond, for different reasons). People also tend to stay indoors as much as they can. Puyallup sees semi-regular “dirty snow,” the fine, grey fall of ash from Mt. Rainier, and it has the worst air quality in all of Seattle. Breathers are a must-have, although some have to make do with scarves tied across their faces or stolen surgical masks. “P-lung” or “grey-lung” is local slang for the deep, hacking cough developed from long unprotected exposure to the air around here.

Districts

Like Redmond, a lot of Puyallup’s divisions and neighborhoods are more informal designations or communities rather than administrative districts.

Thrift

Squatter

Graham Cracker City

Lower Class

The Neon Killing

Squatter

Silver Spring

Squatter

Orting

Squatter

South Prairie

Squatter

Ponderosa Estates

Lower Class

Puyallup city

The Puyallup neighborhood sits near the junction of Tacoma and Auburn, and remains largely middle-class, clean and safe by the standards of the rest of the district. Puyallup’s district government is housed in the District Hall here, along with most of its (legitimate) businesses. The neighborhood and the district government do their best to fight perceptions of Puyallup as a lost cause and to bring business and tourism into the district.

The truth is that nearly every government official and business owner in the area is either on the take from the Mafia or the Yakuza (sometimes both) or paying them protection money. Syndicate wealth owns and controls Puyallup, and anyone crossing them—politicians and pillars of the community included—ends up either smeared with a frame-job and run out of town or, more likely, floating facedown in the Puyallup River.

Carbonado

Before the Ghost Dance War, much of the Carbonado area was made up of small mining-company towns along the Carbon River Valley towards Mt. Rainier. The economy relied heavily on coal mining and timber harvesting in the surrounding area, much of which ceased after the first Rainier eruption wiped out much of the forest resources and caused the mining companies to pull out due to geological instabilities, leaving abandoned towns.

A number of orks fleeing the Night of Rage in central Seattle settled here about thirty years ago, taking up residence in some of the empty houses and company apartments, as well as taking over the abandoned mine complexes. Other squatters and refugees have also moved into Carbonado, as the residents have attempted to revive some of the mines, using what equipment they can scavenge and piece together.

⧁ Carbonado is riddled with old mining tunnels, and the orks have dug several new ones in various places. Along with semi-legitimate mining, the area’s other major activity is smuggling, using the tunnels to conceal and store contraband shipped across the borders. Some of the mineshafts are big enough to conceal entire panzer rigs and serve as temporary garages.
―Rigger X

⧁ The abandoned mine shafts and tunnels in Carbonado attract other residents, too. Various paranimals have moved in from time to time: from agropelters, birdmen, harpies, or devil rats to bandersnatch and piasma out of the tribal lands. There are also a lot of stories of will-o’-wisps leading people into the empty mines and then right into deadfalls or unstable areas. Sometimes the locals band together to clear out infested tunnels, others they leave well enough alone, or hire some help to take care of them.
―Lyran

Hell’s Kitchen

The Mowich Lava Flow is Puyallup’s most distinctive feature, formed by the rivers of lava that poured down from Mt. Rainier, wiping out everything in their path. Eventually, the lava flow cooled and hardened into kilometers of endless barren black rock. The lava flow pushed the Puyallup River out of its former bed, flooding a lot of the low-lying areas with toxic grey mud. Large amounts of water were drawn underground, where they formed pockets of boiling mud or steam geysers on the surface of the lava plain. The river eventually settled into a new course, although it’s still shallow and floods sometimes during the late winter and early spring.

Always looking to turn disaster into profit, several corporations saw opportunities to build geothermal power plants on the lava fields. Several projects were approved, but the Crash of ’29 wiped out their funding and, often, the companies sponsoring them. So the lava flats are dotted with the rusting hulks of half-completed structures, some of them taken over and used as way stations or shelters.

Hell’s Kitchen does see some visitors: shamans make their way out across the lava flats and ash dunes on vision quests and to commune with the nature spirits, while talismongers search for useful minerals and the bones of animals that died out on the plain or in one of the boiling mud pits. Some hardy dwarf miners make their way out with pick and shovel looking for valuable mineral veins. The rest are either tourists enjoying the stark beauty of the lava flows (often from a safe distance) or smugglers making their way across the desolation to or from the border, avoiding the automated monitoring stations and patrol drones.

⧁ Just getting across Hell’s Kitchen isn’t easy: the terrain is unstable and dotted with pits of boiling mud and steam geysers that can erupt without warning. The ashfall often covers over steam-vents, cracks in the rock, and other hazards, even creating deadly ash-pits where you can sink like quicksand and disappear in seconds. Find a guide who knows the area if you have to go out across the flats on foot.
―Hard Exit

⧁ In addition to the hazards of the terrain are the critters that wander in from the tribal wilderness, drawn to the rich heat and minerals of the lava fields. Rockworms in particular are common out in Hell’s Kitchen, and they can even chew through panzer armor, given the opportunity.
―Lyran

Loveland

Located along the western border of the district, near Route 7, Loveland is one of the most densely populated and most violent areas of the Puyallup Barrens. It’s filled with squatters, pushers, thieves, gangers, and hookers, most of them peddling their wares to off-duty soldiers from nearby Fort Lewis. The Yakuza and the Mafia have been fighting over control of Loveland for years, mostly through the proxies of various gangs they arm and supply, who run their errands and sell their drugs, chips, and other contraband. Neither syndicate has devoted the resources to overwhelm their opposition in Loveland, so the conflict just wears on and on.

⧁ Loveland is also a stop on the smuggling route through Puyallup and into Tacoma, along Route 7, with some of the only facilities in the Barrens, usually run by one of the syndicates. A lot of the go-gangs in Loveland work for either the Mafia or the Yakuza. They provide outriders and distractions for their smuggling operations, or else they track and raid smugglers like packs of wild dogs following a herd, usually drawing a syndicate reprisal from a rival gang if they get caught.
―Rigger X

Tarislar

Tarislar is Sperethiel for “Remembrance,” as in “never forget.” It is near the southern tip of the district, stretching between Silver Lake and Harts Lake and home to the majority of Puyallup’s elf population. They fled from the fires and mobs of the Night of Rage, vowing they would never again trust humans. True to their word, the people of Tarislar keep their contact with outsiders to a minimum. Strangers are not welcome here.

The elves never intended to stay in Tarislar. They made their way as far south as possible and planned to cross the border into the tribal lands and join the Sinserach Elves, but the sudden secession of Tir Tairngire from the Salish-Shidhe nation made the Sovereign Tribal Council distrustful of elves, and they were refused passage across Tribal Land into the Sinserach or Tir Tairngire.

Eventually, Tir Tairngire did open up to immigration, but the elven homeland’s visa policy has always been arcane, and while some elves in Tarislar were allowed to emigrate, others were refused for no apparent reason. Moreover, Tir Tairngire has also exiled citizens over the years, many of whom find their way to the Barrens and Tarislar. Elven exiles are generally accepted here, although some see “fallen” elves from the Land of Promise as either easy prey or targets for their misplaced anger.

⧁ Others see them as potential gurus, people who have been to “the promised land,” even if they were exiled from it (no doubt unjustly). A lot of Tir exiles find themselves in positions of power and respect in Tarislar… those who survive, that is.
―Ethernaut

Tarislar is officially abandoned by the metroplex government, meaning there are no municipal services, not even electricity or telecomm, apart from what the residents can pull together or swipe from the local grid. The same is true of sanitation, health care, and security, a lot of which falls to either community cooperation or the assistance of gangs and syndicates like the Laésa.

⧁ Not entirely. Tarislar’s community council actually manages to raise enough donations to pay Knight Errant to provide police services in the neighborhood. It was a controversial decision, bringing in “outsiders,” but KE has been smart in their public relations campaign (their liaison officer is an elf) and many of the locals are eager to loosen the grip of gangs like the Laésa.
―Tarlan

⧁ It’s worth mentioning that many of the people who first moved to Puyallup after the Night of Rage were human: many of the parents and family members of metahuman children stood by them and were persecuted as well. In the thirty-some years since, metahumans have started family lines of their own, but there’s still intermarriage. The human populations of areas like Carbonado and Tarislar are declining, but they’re still there. Don’t be surprised if you see other races in the “elven” and “ork” neighborhoods.
―Butch

Deireadh An Tuartheil

2278 East 408th Street East

The only real hospital available to the elves of Tarislar is Deireadh An Tuartheil (which roughly translates as “The End of the Song of the People/Tribe”). The refugees of the Night of Rage took over the derelict hospital and have run it as best they could over the years. The place is chronically understaffed, undersupplied, and deals with nearconstant crisis and threats from gangs looking to rip off some medical supplies or just collect some pointy ears. They make up for some of their material deficiencies with the aid of magical healers, some of whom also supply additional security, enough to make the worst troublemakers think twice.

⧁ The main power for the hospital comes from a tap into the main Gaeatronics trunk line that runs through the district. Gaeatronics has known about the tap for years, but haven’t done anything about it. Their official story is the cable is too vital, carrying a significant percentage of Seattle’s power in from solar and geothermal generating stations on Mt. Rainier, but I suspect the truth of the matter is that Gaeatronics is willing to look the other way and supply a small amount of free electricity to the people of Tarislar while letting the Seattle Metroplex foot the bill.
―Pistons

⧁ A friend’s mother once worked here: she was a human, a medical resident who, like a lot of parents of metahumans, were rounded up along with their “tainted” offspring. She and her young son escaped the Night of Rage. Her husband didn’t. She did her best to help out, having more medical training and experience than most, even if she didn’t have full accreditation. She worked Deireadh for years before a chipped-out junkie stabbed her to death in the triage area one night. That’s the reality of life in Tarislar.
―Tarlan

Insider View

Posted by: Jimmy Kincaid (Seattle Sprawl box set, "Emerald Shadows", p. 66

Tarislar is a city within a city, separate from Puyallup every bit as much as Puyallup’s separate from Seattle. Years ago, the Night of Rage made it clear to elves they weren’t wanted in Seattle. Later, Tír Tairngire’s secession startled the NAN-states into telling these refugee elves to go spit, too. Then, the Tír itself was either too snooty to let folks in or, depending on the decade, too busy chasing terrorists and going bankrupt for anyone to want in. So the elves were stuck in Tarislar.

Like most of the rest of the district, they’re largely SINless, so good luck with a head count. Unlike the rest of the district, they’re effectively ageless, so the population’s been growing. Drugs, chips, starvation, and violence aren’t healthy, sure, but death from natural causes isn’t a problem. There are elves squatting in poverty in Tarislar who have been there—them, personally— since 2039. Chased by mobs and scarred by fire, loved ones torn apart in the streets, spat on by the NAN, unprotected by the law, officially unrecognized by the metroplex government, all this time. So yeah, they’ve got a fuckin’ chip on their shoulder.

The Ancients aren’t headquartered in Tarislar by accident; they get away with what they get away with because an awful lot of angry keebs are willing to sign on with them, or at least support them, decade after decade.

Now, it’s not all bitterness and violence. The community’s pulled together—not just the flashy psychos like the Ancients and the Laésa—and kept folks alive all this time. The community council got Knight Errant hired, for instance, but they do a lot more, too. Sanitation, water, power, food, it all comes from the people of the neighborhood. Good people, giving themselves a fighting chance.

There’s no better example than the Deireadh An Tuartheil, an empty hospital that the first wave of refugees squatted in all those years ago. Ever since, it’s been a community hub. They’ve cleaned it up, tapped power lines for electricity, relied on the community for volunteers, for supplies, for capital. If anyone else gets stabbed or shot in Puyallup, you drive north or west, fast as you can, to the nearest legit hospital. If it’s an elf, you hurry ’em to Deireadh and get ready to trade.

⧁ Many young elves that find themselves Awakening with talent will seek to use their gifts by volunteering to provide magical assistance to the Deireadh. It’s their way of keeping the place afloat, and with it the entire community. Lots of kids grow up in Tarislar and want to give back. The ones that don’t? They join the gangs.
―Frosty

Puyallup gangs

Puyallup has a lot of gangs. Like Redmond, no inhabitable area of Puyallup goes unclaimed by some gang willing to defend their turf to the death. Puyallup’s fiercely territorial gangs are more spread out than those in Redmond, clustered around the few livable areas in the district. There’s a lot of conflict between metahuman gangs and human “neighborhood watches”, many of the latter little more than vigilante groups organized by Humanis.

• Asphalt Devils – small go-gang active in the 2050s.
• Razor Heads – small thrill gang active in the 2050s. Prefer blades.^{(SS‑82, US‑109)}

Creeps

Runner Havens, p. 98–99 (5th edition replaced the Black Rains with the Creeps and the Chulos.

Mob

Organized ‘parent’ of the Black Rains

Turf

Carbanado, Puyallup

Members

Orks

Colors

N/A

If you need something smuggled between Seattle and the Salish-Shidhe, the Creeps are a good choice. This mostly-ork contraband ring formed to manage the smuggling operations when the Black Rains gang tore itself apart in an internal power struggle a few years back. Operating primarily in Tacoma and Puyallup, the Creeps rely heavily on the Ork Underground to safely transport goods throughout Seattle. They also work closely with the Cascade Ork tribe in the Salish-Shidhe, expanding the old mining tunnels underneath Carbanado, many of which cross below the border, and using them to exchange and warehouse goods. The Creeps keep a steady supply of chips flowing, though they tend to specialize in porn chips featuring orks and trolls.

⧁ The Creeps are more of a loose association of smugglers rather than a unified group. The clannish nature of the ork neighborhood has shut out most of the syndicates, allowing their control of the local smuggling routes to flourish. Their cells include the Black Rains who provide local protection, and the notorious Bot’Kham (“Sons of Kham”), an extended family unit of muscle-for-hire descended from one of Seattle’s more infamous (and now retired) ork runners. These guys operate on a strict code based on professional and familial loyalty—they’ll never betray their family or their employer.

⧁ Fatima

Black Rains

Seattle Sourcebook, p.156 • New Seattle, p.72 • Runner Havens, p.99 • by Social Adept (2060)

Turf

Carbanado, Puyallup

Colors

Black, gold

Members

Orks

Size

Small

The all-ork Black Rains control the largely ork neighborhood of Carbanado. Their colors are black and gold. The gang runs protection rackets in Carbanado. They also control the district’s vice market (all that’s worth controlling, anyway).

⧁ The gang leader is a wily ork named Billy Mura, whose half-Japanese heritage gives him the faintly blue-tinted skin and protuberant eyes of an oni (a Japanese ork). I’ve heard rumors that Mura is the illegitimate child of someone high up in the Seattle yakuza, but so far I’ve seen no evidence of any connection.
―Social Adept

⧁ The Black Rains have ties with the Cascade Ork tribe and are part of the Creeps smuggling network. The Rains use their tunnels to warehouse goods until they’re ready to move them into Auburn or Tacoma. It’s a pretty smooth operation. If you have an ork to vouch for you, the Rains might let you hide out down in the tunnels for a while, I’ve done it, and I can tell you the orks have expanded the original mining tunnels a lot.
―Rigger X

Chulos

Runner Havens, p.90 • Seattle 2072, p.182 • Seattle Box Set, p.63

Turf

Carbanado, Puyallup

Colors

Brown

Members

Latinos

Size

Medium

The Chulos (“pimps” in Spanish) are imports from CalFree, even more so these days, as parts of the gang have migrated to greener pastures in Seattle. This Latino/Aztlaner gang has been around in some form for many years—in fact, it has its roots in the {{wp:Norteños}} (Northen California) gangs founded in the previous century. The gang is much bigger in CalFree than in Seattle, though that’s changing.

They’re a Latino gang; but they don’t care if you’re human, ork, troll, or whatever—just that you’re Latino (and they’re pretty loose on the concept). Pretty much anybody from their main ’hood of Carbonado qualifies, which means there’s a fair number of orks in the gang.

They specialize in the smuggling of CalHot chips and BTLs along the CalFree/Seattle routes, and drugs from Aztlan and South America (via strong connections with the Ghost Cartels.), but also getting people and goods out of CalFree, or moving needed supplies to places like the LA Basin.

⧁ The Chulos are well represented in prison—any member who’s sent up the river is assured of having plenty of brothers to watch his back while inside.
―Marcos

⧁ True to their name, they run at least one whorehouse in Carbonado.
―Kat o’ Nine Tales

⧁ The Chulos have been around forever, and that’s in part because they welcome any metatype. They care about being Latino, not human. They’re old school that way.
―Jimmy Kincaid

⧁ The Chulos control the CalFree and Aztlan ends of those two smuggling routes, and apparently work with the Black Rains at the Creep/Crow controlled Seattle end. Perhaps that explains the apparent lack of conflict between the Chulos and the Rains in their overlapping turf.
―Anonymous

Forever Tacoma

Seattle Sourcebook, p.156 • New Seattle, p.72 • by Social Adept (2060)

Turf

Loveland, Puyallup

Colors

Red & orange

Members

Orks & trolls

Size

Large

This ork and troll gang operates out of Loveland, working in just about any criminal enterprise that comes down the pike. The gang has worked for both the Mafia and the Yakuza, though they lean toward the Mafia these days. Their colors are red and orange, usually in the form of orange rain-slickers over street armor. The gang members run small-time protection and gambling rackets in and around the old Spanaway Speedway in addition to working for the mob. The FTs control much of the street-level vice in Loveland.

Freakshow

Silvesti – Mike Bilo.

Turf

______, Puyallup

Colors

Red & black

Size

Small ?

Despite its circus sideshow trappings, the Freakshow operates on something closer to a feudal system. The gang collects protection payments, but also actually protects the area and is known to gladly help local residents. The gang meets once a month in an abandoned theater called The Ring, and local residents are invited to attend to bring issues before the gang.

Other activities include smuggling recreational drugs and sims.

The Ringleader

Charismatic head of the Freakshow. Known to be a showman and slightly insane. Will often make decisions through elaborate games of chance.

Shiva

Loyal right-hand woman to the ringleader. Physically imposing with four arms. She rarely speaks.

Lucy

Appears to be an ∼9-year-old child and has not aged in the last five years since the gang was founded. Runs the business side of the gang and is the caretaker of Mr. BoJangles.

Mr. BoJangles

An anachronistic teddybear children’s toy with a pull string on the back that causes him to say random phrases. He is often consulted on important decisions for the gang.

Bull

A mid-level fixer for the Freakshow. He is a gruff African American Dwarf that has been working in this area longer than anyone can remember. He was seemingly absorbed into the gang when they moved into the are he was working from. You have worked with him on a couple of minor jobs and have proved your basic competency. He has a reputation for being straight with his customers and not haggling.

You all have him as a free contact: Connection: 2; Loyalty: 2.

Laésa

10 Gangs, p.—

Mob

Organized ‘parent’ of the Princes

Turf

Tarislar, Puyallup

Members

Elves (∼500)

Colors

N/A

Main entry: Laésa.

Princes

Seattle Sourcebook, p.156 • New Seattle, p.72 • Seattle 2072, p.180 • by Social Adept (2060)

Turf

Tarislar, Puyallup

Colors

Red & black

Members

Elves

Size

Small

The Princes of the Blood are an elven gang operating out of Tarislar. The gang’s founders are the survivors from the war a few years back between the Spikes and the Silent Ps that broke the Ps for good. Their leader is an elf called “the Black Prince” who lost his right eye in a fight with Lord Torgo and now wears a patch. He refuses to get a cybereye.

The Princes wear red leathers, usually over black clothing. They’re skilled street fighters, and the Black Prince trains them hard to make sure this gang won’t suffer the same fate as the Silent Ps. They carry themselves like deposed royalty and fiercely defend their turf. They haven’t made many forays outside the elven neighborhood, but it’s only a matter of time before they come into conflict with another gang, most likely the Spikes.

⧁ Interestingly enough, the Princes and the Ancients don’t get along very well. Apparently, the Ancients see the other gang as “upstarts”, while the Princes treat the Ancients like distant cousins. The Princes would love for people to accord them the kind of respect the Ancients get, but they just don’t have the juice.
―Mist

⧁ Their power base is the area is large for their apparent size, since they are the street-level presence of the Laésa (the so-called “elven mafia”).
―Tarlan

Reality Hackers

Seattle Sourcebook, p.156 • New Seattle, p.72 • Runner Havens, p.94 • Vice, p.140 • by Social Adept (2060)

Turf

Puyallup City, Puyallup

Colors

Chrome & gold

Members

Hackers (mostly human)

Size

Medium

The Reality Hackers are a techno-gang, primarily of deckers and technomancers, out of Puyallup proper, near the Puyallup River and Tacoma. They go in for a sleek techno look and feel, with exotic cybereyes, metallic cyberlimbs, high-tech body mods, and everything in chrome and gold. Most members are human; the gang recruits from runaway corporate kids, concentrating on the Tacoma area.

The Hackers pay for their techno-toys through theft, datasteals, chips and pirated software, along with more traditional ganger fare. They’ve turned a large, abandoned warehouse along the river into their own private headquarters/nightclub, where they stash a fair amount of computer gear for their own use along with high-tech audiovisual systems for parties.

They are specialists at infiltrating facilities that are inaccessible via the Matrix (i.e. no wired or wireless connection). They are willing to help shadowrunners, for a price of course. When it comes to recruiting, the gang follows the "Don’t call us; We’ll call you" method. It’s members give 20% of proceeds to the gang. As a gang of hackers who can fight, the initiation ritual consists of hacking in the middle of a fight. As in blitzing your opponent with a sensory overload or hacking his smart gun or cyberware. If it’s a go-gang then it’s messing with their tacsoft network or the bike. Killing the opponent is not necessary, disabling is considered enough. The gang is at the cutting edge when it comes to integrating Matrix tactics into physical combat, such as hacking cyberware, turning anything mobile that connects to the Matrix into an asset, and manipulating surrounding AR.

The gang hates the Yakuza and will take shots at them any chance they’ve got. Due to their mutual hatred of the Yakuza and the need to survive, the have formed a mutual-aid alliance with the Choson Ring. It’s a haven for runaway kids from the Japanacorps and others who hate the Yakuza. Members sport neo-lux tattoos and full-body dye jobs. They are usually augmented with retractable spurs, wired reflexes, dermal plating, control rig, and sim module.

⧁ The Reality Hackers give great parties, chummers. Total blow-out fun with some kickin’ effects. If you get invited to one, don’t miss it.
―The Dead Decker’s Society “In Kibo We Trust”

⧁ At least part of the secret of the Hackers’ success is the sorry state of the Puyallup Matrix. Most of the systems are isolated, so it takes more than a hot deck to break into a system. You have to physically get to where the computer is and hack into it. The Reality Hackers are good enough at both physical intrusion and decking to pull off some Impressive datasteals in the district and make a tidy profit selling the swag. They also fence a lot of tech and data that comes through Puyallup, because they already hove the connections.
―Burning Chrome

⧁ The Reality Hackers used to have ties with the yakuza, but that ended a couple of years ago when the yaks set the Hackers up for a serious fall. A run against Pacific Rim Communications went sour and nearly wiped out the entire gang. The Hackers have rebuilt since then and take great pleasure in doing significant harm to yakuza operations. I expect the Hackers will end up working with one of the Seoulpo Rings eventually, if they don’t already.
―Impact

Places of Interest

Like I said, tourists mainly come to Puyallup either to see the lava flats and geysers, often from the safety of a ‘copter or tilt-rotor, or to slum in some of the clubs and nightspots. The latter are also where the shadows overlap the uptown sensibilities, and where you might see some business getting done.

List c. 2060 from New Seattle

Type	Name	Location	Notes
Hotel	Loveland Bump & Sleep	204th Street East and 14th Avenue East	Family-style hotel, Mafia-owned brothel.
Hotel	Puyallup Lodge	102nd Avenue East and 104th Street East	Family-style hotel.
Restaurant	Bishop’s Corpse, The	224th Street East and Intercity 161	Medium restaurant and bar
Restaurant	Howling Good Time	108th Street East and 202nd Avenue East	Medium restaurant and country-and-western bar, strong bias against metahumans.
Restaurant	Retirement, The	144th Street East and 126th Avenue East	Medium restaurant and bar. The owner, Calvin Holdass, is a former metroplex employee who loves to dig up dirt on city officials.
Restaurant	Twenten’s	Kapowsin Highway and Intercity 161	Small restaurant, soy cuisine, run by an elderly shaman named Jenny Twenten.
Bar/Nightclub	Armadillo, The	128th Street East and Intercity 161	Bar, hot spot for local deckers, also a Mafia recruiting front.
Bar/Nightclub	Loveland Quinn’s	22nd Avenue East and National Park Highway	Nightclub, frequented by soldiers from Fort Lewis.
Bar/Nightclub	Spirit Focus, The	Spanaway-McKenna Highway and 208th Street	New Seattle, p. 69
Bar/Nightclub	Underworld 93	4819 96th Avenue East	New Seattle, p. 69
Attraction	Crime Mall	136th Street East and 122nd Avenue East	New Seattle, p. 69
Attraction	Hell’s Kitchen Tours	214th Avenue East and Old Sumner Buckley Highway	New Seattle, p. 70
Government	McMillin Correction Facilities	Pioneer Way and 128th Street East	Prison.
Government	Puyallup District Courthouse	10th Avenue Southeast and 13th Street Southeast	Courthouse complex.
Government	Puyallup District Hall	7th Avenue Southeast and 13th Street Southeast	Government offices.
Business	Black Junk Yards	Buckley Boulevard and 234th Avenue East	Huge junk yard frequented by scavangers looking for useful parts.
Business	Kenston Aircraft Interiors	176th Street East and 38th Avenue East	Airplane Interiors for Federated Boeing.
Business	Petrowski Farm	22481 Country Drive East	Large and well-armed farm.
Hospital	Delreadh An Tuartheil	2278 East 408th Street East	Hospital, medical center for the people of Tarislar; small, understaffed and undersupplied.
Hospital	Good Samaritan	407 14th Avenue SE	The newest hospital in Puyallup.

Archie’s

8th Avenue East & 10th Avenue East

This shop in Loveland is a Seattle institution, purveyors of joke and novelty items for decades. From T-shirts to funny props (both real and AR projections) to “genuine spy-gear,” you can find all sorts of things at Archie’s. The prices are reasonable and the staff is friendly and helpful.

⧁ Lots of people have found alternate uses for the “novelty items” at Archie’s over the years, especially when it comes to fooling people with, say, fake blood, disappearing tricks, or catching conversations they shouldn’t with a “spy ear.” Nothing the store sells is strictly illegal; it’s just fairly easy to put it to all kinds of interesting uses. If you’re ever having trouble thinking of any, the staff is indeed friendly and helpful, and willing to go to extra lengths in exchange for a good tip.
―Glitch

The Armadillo

128th Street East & Intercity 161

The Armadillo bar used to be a hot spot for Puyallup hackers and wannabes. Theresa Smeland, the owner, offered private lessons in programming to any interested students who showed an aptitude, and helped to set them up with hardware. She managed to walk the tightrope between the Mafia and Yakuza in the district, only to get taken down by Crash 2.0. She lived on life-support for years before the options ran out, and died in a hospital a couple years ago. With no heirs, the Armadillo was sold to help pay Theresa’s medical bills, but a holding company bought it, refurbished it, and reopened it last year. It’s still in business, with a picture of Theresa prominently displayed behind the bar.

⧁ The new owners of the Armadillo are some of Terry’s former students, who have more than enough online savvy to set up the purchase. They continue to “pay it forward” by taking on baby hackers and even technomancers in the Barrens and teaching them which end of a jackpoint is up. I like to think Theresa would have been proud of them.
―Glitch

The Bishop’s Corpse

224th Street East & Intercity 161

The Bishop’s Corpse is a small family restaurant, a Puyallup fixture for many years. Owner Earl Saenz contributes to a lot of charitable causes in the district, including running a soup kitchen for those in need of a hot meal (and a place to eat it). This not only makes him popular with the locals, but also means he knows a great deal about what is going on in Puyallup. For a “charitable donation” he’s sometimes willing to share what he knows, or to arrange some introductions.

Black Junk Yards

Buckley Boulevard & 234th Avenue East

Not all businesses went under when Puyallup became Barrens territory, not Black Junk Yards, certainly. Instead, this place expanded, becoming a giant maze of stacked and crushed vehicles, parts, and salvaged scrap metal. There are six huge compactors, plus magnetic cranes, conveyors, and sifters to separate the ferrous metals from aluminum, glass, and plastic; all of which are sorted, packed, and shipped to recycling centers and factories around Seattle. The junkyard has been collecting and hauling bits and pieces of Puyallup for decades, with no real end in sight. Since they pay for usable scrap, the place has never lacked for scavengers willing to collect it. Some of the vehicles that end up at Black’s are stolen, but few questions get asked.

⧁ Black’s is a decent place to come looking for parts, especially vintage and out-of-date stuff. They’ll usually let you hunt among the wrecks for things if they don’t know where to find what you want. Lately, they’ve been tagging new acquisitions with RFIDs so if you want to find, say, a transmission from a 2051 Phaeton, the AROs can point you right to it. They’re also usually willing to haggle on price, although they drive a hard bargain.
―Rigger X

⧁ The yard is fenced off, protected with monowire and sensors that pick up minute electrical disruptions from somebody touching the fence for more than a second or two. They used to keep vicious guard dogs around the place but lately someone has been putting together a lot of second-hand drones to patrol the grounds at night to keep out the trash-rats and other scavengers.
―Hard Exit

⧁ Black Junk Yards is another neighborhood institution if you’re a gearhead or a drone-diddler. They’ve got a maze of wrecked vehicles and parts to choose from, and they shoot straight when it comes to pricing. If you’re looking to make a car disappear, trying to find some parts to fix up your wheels, or searching for neutral ground for a gig, you could do a lot worse.
―Jimmy Kincaid

⧁ Puyallup being Puyallup, scavengers and ferals are real problems. High fences and monowire don’t cut it any more—there’s a regular swarm of drones keeping an eye on things now. The new junkyard dogs are cobbled-together combat rigs—just a gun, a camera, and a means of propulsion.
―Turbo Bunny

The Crime Mall

136th Street East & 122nd Avenue East

It’s not on the metroplex tours, but everyone working the Seattle shadows should know about the Crime Mall. It’s like a monument to the maxim “the street finds its own uses for things.” The three-story mall on the outskirts of Puyallup was closed down after the Crash of ’29 wiped out the management company (and quite a few of the businesses leasing there). About a year later, the mall “reopened” as a bazaar of black market merchants selling everything from weapons and illegal chips to electronics, talismans, and contraband.

The Crime Mall has grown over the years to become a one-stop black-market shopping center with dozens of merchants. Lone Star varied between working to shut them down and taking their protection money (sometimes both at once) but efforts to close the Crime Mall never lasted for long; the business opportunity is just too good, and for every merchant who gets chased out, arrested, or killed off, another moves in and sets up shop. The situation with Knight Errant seems largely the same, especially since the Crime Mall is not at the top of the Knights’ priority list.

In recent years an informal “merchants association” of sorts has sprung up, with members contributing some of their profits to upgrade the mall’s early-warning systems in case of police raids, fix some failing infrastructure, and so forth.

⧁ You can’t talk about the black market in Puyallup without mentioning the Crime Mall. Back in ’29, this fancy shopping center went tits up, and ever since it’s been used by the community, not the corps, to sell whatever folks are buying.
“The Management” is a sitting council of black marketeers who oversee the Mall, with five seats and all the backstabbing you’d expect. They take a flat tax from everyone who wants to deal in the Crime Mall, and they use that money for the good of the establishment as a whole (minus the expected corruption). Knight Errant gets a wild hair? Bribe money, Management fixed it. Power needs fixing? Management handles the splice. Water’s out? Management.
―Jimmy Kincaid

⧁ One problem that the Management has is the rampant barter economy. It’s much easier to take five percent of nuyen or scrip transactions than five percent of freshly cooked dog on a stick.
―Sounder

The Daisy Chain

SE 400th Street & 196th Avenue SE

A club appealing to melancholic young elves and those who wish they were, the Daisy Chain features elven-gothic design (much of it AR enhanced) and celto-goth fusion music, with a lot of slow, mournful pipes and strings, although you’ll find more upbeat tribal and house mixes on the weekends.

The club is at the center of the drug scene in this part of Puyallup, and is the place where you can score various recreational pharmaceuticals— no chips or other digital highs for this crowd. They like their hits “all natural.” Tempo is still popular, along with deepweed, laés, fairy dust, and other concoctions out of the Awakened lands.

⧁ The Laésa and other elven gangs claim this area and practically dare the bigger syndicates to try and take it away from them. Thus far, the Mafia and Yakuza are too busy fighting it out in Fort Lewis and Puyallup City to bother, especially considering the kind of magical firepower the elves can bring to a fight. You’re more likely to see the elven gangs fighting it out amongst themselves, or dealing with an upstart Seoulpa Ring.
―Tarlan

The Good Samaritan Hospital

407 Fourteenth Avenue SE

Just like the name says, the Good Samaritan Hospital was built as part of a metroplex initiative to reclaim the Barrens, or at least provide some essential services for the people living there. The hospital struggled even before the doors officially opened in 2048, nearly losing all its funding, and having difficulty attracting qualified personnel. After several years of floundering, Governor Schultz hit upon an interesting idea: she offered the hospital to the UCAS military as a training center, provided they would staff and secure the place. It was close enough to Fort Lewis, and an excellent opportunity to study “urban warfare,” so they took her up on the offer. Since then, the Good Samaritan has been under military administration, and a lot of the personnel working there are UCAS Medical Corps.

Hell’s Kitchen Tours

214th Avenue East & Old Summer Buckley Highway

The Auburn-based Hell’s Kitchen Tours offers aerial tours of the Hell’s Kitchen area by helicopter or tilt-rotor vehicle, complete with optical enhancements allowing tourists to zoom in and get better views (and images) of sites on the ground. It’s a fairly open secret in the Seattle shadows that HKT pilots are willing to make discreet drop-offs and pick-ups out on the lava plains, if they’re paid extra for their trouble. The company has cleaned house a few times of any pilots violating their pre-filed flight plans, but the practice hasn’t stopped.

⧁ The tour company sometimes runs into trouble out over the lava flats, usually in the form of a rogue spirit or some other critter taking a dislike to the noisy whirly-birds passing over their territory. The last major incident involved some nesting firebirds freaking out and buzzing a tilt-rotor, which sucked a couple into an engine and went down because of it.
―Rigger X

Howlin’ Good Time

108th Street East & 202nd Avenue East

This is a country-and-western bar where some locals like to blow off steam nights and weekend. They do live music, line dancing, barbeques, the works. Ol’ Hoss Metcalf who owns the place is in good with the district government and a fairly prominent local businessman, so he has some pull.

⧁ Metcalf and his cronies are also anti-metahuman bigots. Non-humans are not welcome in the bar and should only show up if they’re spoiling for a fight, since odds are they’ll get one. Most of the regulars at Howlin’ Good Time are at least Humanis sympathizers, if not outright members or supporters, and Hoss has a cache of weapons hidden away in the place, just looking for an excuse to use them on “trespassers.”
―Butch

Kenston Aircraft Interiors

176th Street East & Thirty-eighth Avenue East

One of the various supply-chain manufacturers contracted to Federated-Boeing, Kenston builds passenger aircraft interiors in their massive factory complex, shipping the finished goods to FB facilities for final assembly. Although they maintain sweatshop hours and wages, Kenston is still one of the few legitimate employers in Puyallup of any real size, and the local government bends over backwards to keep them here.

Loveland Bump & Sleep

204th Street East & 14th Avenue East

A former mid-range hotel turned into a brothel by the Mafia, run by members of the Gianelli Family. It’s fairly low-frills and “old school” as such places go, although they do get in more than the average number of elf girls, for the guys who like that type. It’s also noteworthy that the hotel is some eighteen floors, but the business only seems to take up about ten or so.

⧁ Word is the Gianellis also use the Bump & Sleep as a temporary warehouse to store contraband they’re smuggling into the city across the border or moving out into tribal lands. That sometimes includes people being moved in or out of the metroplex, and anyone the family wants to keep out of sight.
―Rigger X

⧁ Now, if you’re looking to lay low for a night—or an hour—at a time, you could do worse than the Bump and Sleep. I don’t pass judgement on working girls (or boys), and their rates are pretty reasonable if you’re there for the roof, not the company.
―Jimmy Kincaid

⧁ Jimmy doesn’t mention the Sleeping Dragon bunraku parlor, but it’s another option if that’s your bag. Honestly, Puyallup’s got plenty of this sort of establishment to choose from.
―Traveler Jones

Loveland Quinn’s

22nd Avenue East & National Park Highway

This venerable nightclub near Fort Lewis makes its living attracting and entertaining off-duty military personnel with credit to spend and appetites to satisfy. Opened by an ork named Raymond Quinn, the place passed into the hands of Quinn’s widow, an ex-employee of his named Selma Quinn (formerly Selma Hartford), following Raymond’s death in 2059. Mrs. Quinn has owned the place since, although she usually leaves running it to her manager, Tomy Gallagher. Otherwise, Loveland Quinn’s is as it has always been: scantily clad waitresses, plentiful booze, and music and entertainment to while away the hours.

⧁ Ray Quinn was part of the Finnegan Family back in his youth, known sometimes as “Shark Jaw.” He stayed loyal, which is probably why he bought it eventually at the hands of one of the rival families. His wife knows enough to kiss the hand that feeds her, and she actually rather admires Rowena O’Malley, so she pays homage and her protection money and in turn gets to keep her little club and her never-ending series of plastic surgeries and treatments intended to keep her as firm and energetic as she was in her 20s now that she’s in her 50s.
―Khan-A-Saur

McMillin Correctional Facilities

Pioneer Way & 128th Street East

The usual jokes about a prison life in the Barrens being preferable to life in the Barrens aside, McMillin Correctional is a minimum security facility in several senses of the word. It is run by a private firm subcontracted to Lone Star and well known as a revolving door for the district’s criminals, especially anyone with ties to the syndicates. The prison’s facilities and systems are outdated, poorly maintained, and prone to failure at any given time.

Petrowski Farms

22481 Country Drive East

Some people don’t give up, no matter what. For five generations, the Petrowski family has owned and operated their farm, hundreds of acres of fields and greenhouses, surrounded by three sets of chain-link and barbed wire fence. They haven’t let eruptions, volcanic ash, fire, flood, or armed and hungry mobs drive them off their land. They still proudly sell their organic produce at the Pike Place Farmer’s Market as they have for more than a century now.

⧁ The family farm is like a fortress: the outermost fence is electrified and has armed guard towers, while the no-man’s land between the fence lines is crisscrossed with motion detectors and pressure sensors. The story about it being mined as well is just an urban legend, but a useful one. The farm hands are all required to carry sidearms, and the bunkhouses and main house are equipped to withstand a siege. If that all sounds paranoid to you, then you probably wouldn’t last a week in Puyallup, since Petrowski Farms repels attacks by armed gangs and crazed mobs about half a dozen times a year.
―Lyran

⧁ Speaking of which, harvest times usually call for extra security and old Duane Petrowski, the family patriarch, pays a fair wage and doesn’t care what you look like so long as you’re willing to work and you get the job done.
―Traveler Jones

⧁ At least part of the secret of the Petrowski family’s success (or at least survival) might be their close ties with the land. Their refusal to leave and their dedication to cultivating it year after year may have earned them the favor of land spirits associated with the farm. Certainly, there have been a number of “lucky” instances over the years, and their crops continue to do well, in spite of conditions elsewhere nearby.
―Axis Mundi

⧁ On a lighter note, mid-April has a Petrowski Farms appreciation thing that’s turned into a real party. They’re a real local business run by a real local family, but over the years they’ve had some ups and downs, sometimes resentment, sometimes robberies. Every year they host a spring celebration, giving away fresh vegetables, supplementing their year-round soup kitchen work, that sort of thing. Other businesses have chimed in, and now it’s a regular festival, a week-long shindig that does the place a lot of good. Just don’t forget your filter-mask if you’re swinging by—the whole thing’s an outdoors affair.
―Jimmy Kincaid

Puyallup District Courthouse

Tenth Avenue Southeast & Thirteenth Street Southeast

Puyallup District Hall

Seventh Avenue Southeast & Thirteenth Street Southeast

Puyallup’s municipal buildings are primarily noteworthy because you can regularly find members of the local criminal fraternities dropping by to “pay their respects” and to make requests of the government. The supposedly elected officials of Puyallup dance to the tune of whichever mob enforcer applies the carrot and the stick the best. The representatives, judges, and others who manage to upset the wrong parties usually end up in a dumpster somewhere.

Puyallup Lodge

102nd Avenue East & 104th Street East

Built during one of the attempts to revive Puyallup in the 2030s, this hotel went up on a waste dump site, which later leaked toxic gases, which eventually closed the place down. Some clever entrepreneur decided to deal with the problem by mostly gutting the interior and replacing the rooms with sleep coffins, two to a room, with their own air-filter systems, leaving the windows open to “air out” the interior (such as it is). This gives the Lodge just the kind of post-apocalypse ambiance folks in Puyallup have come to expect. Still, the prices are fairly cheap, you can pay in cash or certified credit, and nobody asks any questions.

⧁ Just make sure the air-filter is actually working if you’re planning to crash there, otherwise you could go to sleep and wake up dead.
―Riser

The Spirit Focus

Spanaway-McKenna Highway & 208th Street

You can find Seattle’s finest jazz at this club near Fort Lewis and the NAN border. The style is that of the intimate, smoky jazz clubs of the 20th century, and the Spirit Focus is known for always having live performances. Wealthy jazz enthusiasts (whether genuine connoisseurs or poseurs showing off how “cultured” they are) regularly patronize the club, some coming from as far away as California. The live performances and the club’s atmosphere also make it popular with the local Awakened crowd.

⧁ Which wasn’t such a good thing when some wizkid high on tempo almost literally “brought the house down” one night when he freaked out during a performance. The club’s security put his lights out in time, but it was a pretty near thing, from what I hear. The “music lover’s” drug was banned from the place immediately thereafter.
―Ethernaut

⧁ Speaking of security, the Spirit Focus has a long-standing agreement with the Yakuza to keep the peace in and around the club. Thus far, it hasn’t caused them any trouble with the other Seattle syndicates, who probably don’t want to start something in a place regularly packed with VIPs and their own private security.
―Star Loner

⧁ For a shorter—but more pleasant—visit to our burg, swing by the Spirit Focus, down near Fort Lewis. If you like jazz, you’ll love it. Brevik runs a classy joint, her boys know how to mix a drink, and you won’t find better music anywhere in Seattle.
Don’t start shit in the Spirit Focus, though. The Kenran-Kai oyabun himself likes to hang his hat here, and they’re long-term contracted to keep an eye on the joint. Even if it weren’t for the mobsters, though, you’ve got the bartenders to worry about.
Big Frankie’s a dwarf, Little Frankie’s a fomori, and the two’ve been buddies since they fought together in Desert Wars maybe a dozen seasons back. The place has plenty of muscle.
―Jimmy Kincaid

⧁ Plus Jimmy’s there as often as he’s in his office.
―Hard Exit

⧁ Damn straight.
―Jimmy Kincaid

Sticks and Stones

⧁ For those looking for a more physical experience, it’s hard to beat Sticks and Stones, a street fighting school that’s sprung up near one of the Ork Underground’s main Puyallup entrances. Since the Underground went legit, they’ve had to clean things up a little, but underneath the AR glitz and glamour it’s still a big hunk of mean that’s halfway between a boxing gym and a concrete slab. Mixed martial artists, boxers, knife-fighters, wannabes— Sticks and Stones lets anyone in so long as they pay their hundred nuyen a month, don’t cry if they get hurt, and don’t try to geek anyone on the property. You could do a lot worse if you’re looking to get some practical lessons and don’t mind the taste of blood.
―Jimmy Kincaid

⧁ Another rule of membership is that it’s neutral turf where gangs are concerned. You leave your colors at the door.
―Sticks

Twenten’s

Kapowsin Highway & Intercity 161

It’s processed soy just like mom used to make … or would have, if she cooked. Anyway, Jeannette “Jenny” Twenten dishes out the soy at a price that makes her place haute cuisine by Puyallup standards. She’s been running the place for over twenty-five years and shows no signs of slowing down in spite of being in her eighties.

⧁ When she first opened the restaurant, Jenny had some trouble with the Mafia trying to lean on her. That is, until the legbreakers discovered what a powerful shaman Jenny was! Her spells had them packing in no time and eventually, the Families just gave up and left her alone. Since then, Jenny has kept a motherly and protective eye on a lot of the neighborhood’s Gifted kids, especially trying to keep them out of the gangs and the syndicates.
―Lyran

⧁ Although many comment on her amazing vitality, Mrs. Twenten seems to shrug it off, usually with the comment “everybody has their time.” Although she has looked after many youngsters with the Talent, even taken a few under her wing, it seems as though she is still waiting for something . . . or perhaps someone.
―Ethernaut

Underworld 93

4819 96th Avenue East

Mercurial, DarkVine, JetBlack, Shield Wall, CrimeTime, Melody Tyger. They’re just a sample of the acts that have graced the stage at Underworld 93, the old queen of Seattle music venues. While other clubs in the metroplex may be tops for dancing, drinking, or … other entertainment, none can match the Underworld when it comes to sheer star-power. The club has been booking the top musical acts for decades, and an appearance at the Underworld 93 is often one of the stepping-stones to mega-stardom.

The club may not seem like much to look at: a converted ferrocrete warehouse retaining many of the industrial elements of its initial design. Only the tall AR-enhanced marquee outside blazing its name, and the state-of-the-art sound and lighting system inside show the building’s current calling, but that is the way patrons of the 93 like it. After all, they say, they’re not there for the ambience, but for the music. Be sure to check in with the club’s up-to-the-minute booking site for all the latest information on acts and shows. They sell out fast!

⧁ Although it might not look that way on the surface, the Underworld has gone through some changes of late. Its long-time manager, Al Costanzo, passed away a few years ago. The new manager, a dwarf named Vince O’Halloran, was in bed with the Finnigan Family and tried to change the club’s long-standing protection deal with the Yakuza. He lasted fifteen months before they found his body in a dumpster a few blocks from the club. The new new manager is Annette Harris, a former A&R exec with Mega-Media. ‘Nette (as she likes to be called) patched things up with the Yaks and has thus far avoided trouble with the Mafia, but we’ll see how long that lasts.
―Khan-A-Saur

⧁ I’m betting a fair while. Rumor has it Ms. Harris’ “silent partner” in the club is a dragon who is a rock music aficionado and a fan of the club’s storied history. He put up a portion of the cred to buy the place (in gold coins, no doubt) but leaves the business side of things to ‘Nette and just drops by for shows from time to time in a metahuman guise. Whether it is true or just a story put about by Lady Harris, it seems to be effective in making others think twice before they decide to mess with a Seattle institution—and have to deal with a dragon.
―Ethernaut

⧁ While it’s an awesome place to see a show, the Underworld 93 is a terrible place to do business: too loud and crowded, with halfway decent security at the doors, but no secure private meeting space to speak of. If you have to meet here, you’re better off taking things elsewhere once they get serious (business or pleasure). Most of the biz that goes down at the Underworld is bodyguarding the latest mega-star or meeting them in the dressing rooms for a job interview.
―Hard Exit

Seattle Sourcebook, pp. 143, 147

Nightclub Archetype · 4819 96th Avenue East (#23 H) · Al Castanzo, Manager · No Racial Bias · LTG# 4206 (30-9095).

When it comes to live entertainment, this is where the action is. Deceptively located on the outskirts of the Puyallup Barrens, this converted warehouse is now a first-rate concert hall that plays host to the hottest acts in town. Outside, two marquee signs set the entrance aglow, while Newt, the Troll bouncer, carefully decides who may and may not enter. The interior is dominated by two giant vidscreens set behind a wide stage. During a concert, the frenzied energy from the stage and the dance floor has been known to rise up and literally shake the rafters.

⧁ It’s been said that this place can make or break a performer. Not quite true. To play Underworld 93 is a sure sign that you’ve already made it.
―Nuyen Nick (02:01:20/12-13-49)

Insider View

Posted by: Jimmy Kincaid (Seattle Sprawl box set, "Emerald Shadows", pp. 62–66

⧁ Hola, Mitch!
―Hard Exit

⧁ You know nobody else calls me that, right? I’d kinda like to keep it that way, doll.
―Jimmy Kincaid

“Barrens,” they say, lumping us all together. Redmond, too, like we’re next door neighbors, not sixty kilometers apart. Here in Puyallup, we’re used to getting written off by outsiders. They figure we’re just ashy gutters, Mafiosi and Yakuza thugs tearing each other apart, beetle dens and whorehouses competing for desperate nuyen, elves and orks killing each other over table scraps and corner deals.

We are all those things, but those things ain’t all we are.

People fuckin’ live here, chummer. Always have, and always will. A hundred years ago this was farmland, wide-open spaces, blue skies, and green hills. Then came Rainier and refugees, ash and assholes, the Night of Rage and Tír Tairngire’s leftovers. After that, we layered on a couple generations of corrupt politicians and parasitic crime families sucking the place dry. Sprinkle with desperation. Add a pinch of hatred. Season to taste.

So we ain’t like Downtown, sure, but people are still just people. Over half a million souls—just by official count—are trying to get by, wanting to live their life, put a roof overhead, fill their belly, have some kids.

If the corps would give us half a chance, just a fair shake, they could make some real money here. We’ve got space. We’ve got nothing but room for improvement, we’ve got people with nothing but hunger for a better tomorrow. They could build here, instead of always being teases about it. They could invest, and we could work, buy, sell. Everyone would win.

But that ain’t what Puyallup’s for, if you ask our neighbors. Nope. They come here to hide from the law, to buy drugs or chips, to rent joyboys or cred-slots, to bash some keeblers. They come here in tricked-out racers to compete, or souped-up rigs about to make the Route 7 smuggling run. They come here to slum it, to get a kick out of some real streets if Bellevue or Downtown are too safe for their liking.

Someone once said you don’t pay a hooker for the sex, you pay ’em to leave you alone afterwards. To our neighbors, Puyallup’s that working girl. They come here so they can leave again, and feel better about themselves for doing so.

Special occasions

First off, February 7th, the anniversary of the Night of Rage. Officially, up by the district hall, there’s a vigil, some suit saying a couple words of remembrance, that sort of thing. Realistically? You’ll see lots of bottles lifted in memory of the dead, lots of angry orks who’ve shouldered granddad’s grief and rage, and lots of elves drinking or doping their memories away. Be careful, especially if you’re not meta. Pay your respects, keep your head down, and don’t crack a single goddamned joke.

Conversely, August 17th is a dark day every year. The assholes with Hell’s Kitchen Tours like to talk about the haunting beauty of the lava fields or the mysterious aura we get from our cloak of ash, but fuck ’em. Mount Rainier kicked this joint in the teeth back in 2017, it hasn’t let up since, and the clinging ash and threat of renewed eruptions have largely kept the megacorps from investing here. Folks around Puyallup have taken to decorating with black or grey ribbons, once a year, to commemorate the eruption and its continued economic devastation. We tie ’em to vacant warehouses, half-finished factories, empty office buildings, and whatever else will hold them. The more ribbons you see all hanging off a place, the longer it’s been since that company let us down.

Crime scene

The main thing you need to understand about the criminal underbelly of Puyallup is that it’s alive, it’s always changing, and anyone who claims to know everything about every gang is working a con.

Smaller outfits rise and fall based on luck, violence, and the charismatic leadership of opportunistic psychopaths. They come and go all the time, sometimes literally over a matter of days. They’re small fish, but piranha aren’t scary for their size, right? Even small gangs can be dangerous. If you run into a half-dozen assholes all dressed the same and flashing some chrome, read the situation, not some file claiming to tell you their gang isn’t worth worrying about.

There are some gangs who are getting long in the tooth— or tusk—and deserve special mention. The Chulos have been around forever, and that’s in part because they welcome any metatype. They care about being Latino, not human. They’re old school that way. The Reality Hackers, on the other hand, are totally new school. They’re mostly a Matrix gang, integrating electronics into everything they do, including themselves. Their gang color’s gold, but the skells are big on cyber, so they’re always going to flash a ton of chrome, too; implanted, if not worn.

⧁ The Hackers still have beef with the Yakuza. If you need Matrix support going up against certain Japanacorps, you could do a lot worse.
―Pistons

You can’t talk crime in Puyallup without talking elves. We’ve got two big groups to worry about—to say nothing of all the poseur gangs that spring up like weeds—but of the two, the Laésa deserve less data. They come and go, they’re smugglers, and they do a ton of the memory-wiping elven drug you’ve hopefully heard of by now. They don’t know where their district headquarters are half the time, so why should you care?

They’re more trouble than they’re worth, and they care about smuggling profits far more than they do holding territory. They’re an illegal business, heart and soul, not really a traditional gang with visible colors, flashy tags, and that particularly elven brand of brittle pride that demands constant ego-stroking and external affirmation.

⧁ I swear, I think Jimmy forgets he’s an elf sometimes.
―Turbo Bunny

Which brings us to the Ancients. Head counts vary. Most law enforcement agencies say there’s three hundred or so green mohawks racing around Seattle. A few paranoid delusional types rant about there being thousands of Ancients and their supporters scattered around the megaplex, like they run the whole joint.

Truth is, they’re headquartered here in Puyallup—down south, in Tarislar, naturally—but they do keep small sub-chapters operating all over the city. They’re big fans of using small groups, operating independently, deep in hostile territory. And it works for ’em, too, or you wouldn’t see “Ancients Forever” tagged from one end of Seattle to the other.

⧁ Rather like a great many military and paramilitary units. There’ve been rumors for decades about the Ancients serving as the Seattle muscle for the Tír Princes and their ilk, and a great many Ancients may have earned their fair share of stripes and combat experience alike in the Tír Peace Force.
―Thorn

⧁ ”Rumors,” he says, and “may have.” Yeah, right. Pull the other one.
―Bull

The Grand Poobah of the Seattle Ancients is Belial, a flashy kid who took the reins a couple years after his old man, Green Lucifer, got promoted. Lucy’s old lieutenant, Sting, is still around. She advises Belial, runs the old guard, and plays troubleshooter as needed. His other top bosses are Rook, a combat mage and downright elven-supremacist, and Bushido Blitz, a razorboy who’s quicker’n spit and favors a katana.

⧁ Rook’s rumored to be their key Tír connection. Family, maybe, or a well-supported milesaratish of a high-ranking official.
―Thorn

⧁ That’s a warrior-bondsman kind of a spy, according to my linguasoft. Nerd.
―/dev/grrl

⧁ “Rumored” nothing. This one’s confirmed. Rook has namedropped Prince Evan Parris a few too many times for it not to be true, and the resemblance is uncanny.
―Snopes

Moving up a notch on the criminal ladder, let’s talk mobsters. The Finnigan family runs the overall Mafia in Seattle in general, and Puyallup’s branch, the Gianellis, have been hanging onto the joint by their fingernails for years and don’t show any signs of letting go without a fight.

Don Joseph Gianelli runs the district, but he’s also got his hands full with Tacoma and Auburn. He leaves most of Puyallup’s day-to-day to his nephew, Capo Enzo Gianelli. Enzo’s influence in the neighborhood wanes and waxes pretty unpredictably, as does his level of individual activity. Enzo’s latest bodyguard is a spellslinger from the Order of Merlyn, Uranus. The kid’s no slouch.

⧁ What Jimmy’s trying to say diplomatically is Enzo’s a novacoke fiend, with all the scattered mania that entails. It’s a secure doc, Jimmy. He’s not gonna read it. Let fly.
―Turbo Bunny

⧁ Oh, yeah? Well, in that case, the skell’s a cokehead, a bully, and an idiot when he’s angry. He’s mean when he’s high, a bitter sack of crap when he crashes. Just remember that all makes him more dangerous, not less.
―Kincaid

The Finnigans and their associates aren’t stupid, as a general rule. They may be losing, but they ain’t losers, y’know? They’ve got magic, Matrix, and muscle aplenty, and Enzo’s uncle, Don Joseph, is no joke. There are plenty of resources that can be pulled in from neighboring districts if the Don thinks it’s necessary, and that level of manpower has turned their turf war with the Yakuza into a stalemate.

⧁ If you’re wondering what sort of hackers the Gianellis can call on, Highball’s known to freelance for them, but they’ve got big names like Wendy Wyld and Two-Bit on retainer.
―Netcat

Speaking of which, the Kenran-Kai are their Yakuza rivals. There’s been an unsteady peace for the most part, but the two syndicates never stop jabbing at one another. Run by Kosuke Tomizawa—that’s oyabun to you—they’ve been slowly taking whatever turf the Gianellis have been letting them for years. He’s a class act and a straight shooter, in his way. Classy, for a murderous thug.

Maybe they’re more enlightened, maybe they’re more realistic about district demographics, but unlike some Yaks, Kenran- Kai’s opened their ranks to metahumans. There ain’t enough round-ears to recruit from down here, so it’s catch as catch can.

The Oyabun’s bodyguard provides him some combat mojo, too. Nishikawa Kenzo’s no joke, and he likes the fire and flash. I know most palookas keep an eye out for certain types of tats where the Yakuza’s concerned already, but this guy’s got storms on his chest, dragons on his arms, and a love for elemental attack spells. Heads up. They’ve got Matrix assets, too, but those aren’t really my bag.

⧁ Top Hat, Ryoko Rabbit, and Kenshinzen are their biggest threats. Ken, especially, is sharp and fast.
―Netcat

Oh, and if you see some blue-haired punks zippin’ around on racing bikes or souped-up coupes, it’s the Blue Dragons gogang. They’re the lowest muscle that Tomizawa officially considers part of the operation. They aren’t much one-on-one, but they travel in packs, and they’re fans of overkill.

⧁ Street racing’s not the worst way to get an interview if you’re looking to get work from the Kenran-Kai.
―Turbo Bunny

Where to squat

My advice on safehouses in Puyallup? Don’t. Half the Seattle shadow community thinks they can just dump some rent in advance on a little doss on 128th, stash a go-bag, ignore it all for months at a time, and come crash in their hidey-hole when Downtown gets too hot. Bullshit.

Don’t drop off a purposefully transportable duffel bag full of highly illegal and expensive stuff, flash wealth by paying your rent up for six months at a go, and get mad at Puyallup when your shit gets jacked a half hour after you swagger out of the district. Folks in Loveland are desperate, not stupid.

If you want your stuff to be safe in Puyallup, just be here in Puyallup. Learn the neighborhoods. Make friends. Be a regular at the noodle joint on the corner, get the bartender at the local dive to know your favorite drink, get to where the local street punks’ll give you a nod instead of a catcall when you walk by. We’re not idiots. We know a shadowrunner when we see one, and once word gets out, enough folks will leave your stuff alone, even if you’re gone for a while.

Just don’t flash heat to try and intimidate us, okay? Trust me, pal, you ain’t the only guy in Puyallup with a gun.

Opposition report

Puyallup’s easy when it comes to dodging the cops. You point your car south, and you occasionally hang a right. Once you get to Loveland, just go in circles for a while. Most of the time, the cops will realize where they are and go home. If not, someone’ll get mad about the sirens and bust out an Aztechnology Striker or some Krime Cannon piece of shit, and you and the cop’ll both wish you’d taken your problems somewhere else.

⧁ He’s not lying.
―Turbo Bunny

Help wanted

The two biggest employers for freelance criminals are probably going to be the two big syndicates I already discussed— just like corps, they like to use disposable assets to fuck with one another—so I think that angle’s covered.

One other option here in Puyallup is Puyallup itself, though. The district hall’s up north, in the respectable part of town, but people there are often light on basic resources—or, at least the ones not in the Mafia or Yakuza’s pockets are—so you might be surprised at the jobs you can get. District hall has to deal with SINless problems while only collecting SINned votes, so their official authority’s often stretched pretty thin, which can mean opportunities for freelancers. Ghoul hunts, dealing with wards, bodyguard gigs, security, gang management, you name it. Brush up on your fake SINs and licenses, though, as most of the time they’ll want something like a bounty hunter’s credentials, minimum.