Moniker: Hobo Bob
Motive: Acquire more alcohol
Implants: Bionic eyes
Inventory: Dirty clothing, bottle of alcohol, old tire iron
Your name is Hobo Bob, or Boboboh to your friends, and you wake up with a pounding headache and without any eyes.
It takes you a few minutes to remember what you were doing. Having drinks, obviously. And when you were stumbling back home, something caught your eyes. A gacha machine, filled with implants, guaranteed to have a chance at ultra-rare bleeding edge military prototypes, along with other implants, but you didn't pay attention to the others. And it came with free installation.
You groan as you remember how much you paid for the bag; it could have gotten you another three or four bottles at least. And now you're lying somewhere with a hangover, without any eyes.
Putting your hands to your face, you feel an unfamiliar piece of cool ceramic where your eyes should be. A visor, though you can't feel any lenses or sensors on its surface. Fumbling for the power switch, you turn them on.
A corpo logo pops up in your field of view. Itaratech, with angular lines. It fades out of view, and suddenly you can see.
Everything.You can see the pedestrians walking by in the street, their implants tagged and annotated. You can see the rats in the walls, scurrying around as small streaks of orange infrared. You can see the data flowing through the air, passing from device to device, dense with encryption and protocols.
You try to find the documentation, and it's almost as if the visor reads your mind, pulling up a user guide and displaying a two-minute projection-mapped AR tridee of some corpo exec with a stylish white visor. You belatedly realize that is what is now fused to your face. A name comes into view. ITARATECH PANOPTES 6.IIe.
You understand nothing in the video, which throws around jargon like "diffraction-limited solid-state hyperoptical zoom" and "predictive pattern-matching fluid user interface design". What you do understand is that everyone in the video looks much richer and better dressed than you do. And that this visor can see anything that can be seen, and more.
You've won the jackpot, you realize. The first thought in your mind is that you could probably trade it in for a shit ton of alcohol. The second is that someone might try to pull that thing off of your face.
You pick up your trusty tire iron, and cautiously peer out of the alley (through the buildings, because you can do that now), trying to concentrate through the pounding hangover. You could really use another drink.
What do you do?