Emotional Therapy: By Kyle

Emotional Therapy: Rehabilitation Through Noninvasive Reprogramming

If you don't know what Paranoia is, I can't help you. But if you played in our campaign, you knew the fear of Emotional Therapy.

Suspected of treason? Report to Emotional Therapy. Fail to complete the mission? Report to Emotional Therapy. Damage the Beta-Model Experimental Neutrino Shoulder Missile Projector? Report to Emotional Therapy. Failure to report to Emotional Therapy? Report to Emotional Therapy. Emotional Therapy is where troubleshooters go when the Computer detects a potential malfunction in their behavior. Many never return.

The following is a primer of the various types of experiences one may encounter in Emotional Therapy. It is excerpts taken verbatim from our PBeM game, Whitewash. Needless to say, we all carry the emotional and physical scars from that game.

Example 1: Sock-R-TES Takes a Beatdown

Sock announces over the com unit: "Friend Computer, this is Sock-R-TES-2. Red-R-MEE-1, Herc-R-LES-1, and Puck-R-UPP-2 seem to have killed themselves in some kind of grenade accident. If it's not too much trouble, could you issue new clones? Also, I will now be taking over as team leader."

The Computer replies: "Sock-R-TES-2, Pole-R-OID-2 was appointed deputy team leader by Red-R-MEE-1. He will now be team leader. Your presence was requested in the Emotional Therapy room. I am severely displeased with you for your tardiness. My therapists have been waiting."

Sock looks defeated. He says into his com unit: "I'm on my way." Sock trudges unhappily to the Emotional Therapy room. Once there, he opens the door to find an empty room. Then the door slams behind him, and Sock sees the large black bot who was standing behind the door. The bot says very sharply, "Sock-R-TES-2, please strip immediately, and leave all of your possessions by the door."

Following the big bot's orders, Sock begins piling his stuff by the door. When he gets to his knife, Sock grips it tightly and begins to stammer, "Hey, you know, I, uh, look, can't we, well..."

The bot shouts "Shut up, traitor!" and smacks Sock to the floor. Hard.

As Sock keeps taking stuff off, the Computer's voice comes through the bot's speakers: "Suspected use of a mutant power. Ignoring a direct order from a superior clone. Disobeying a direct order from a superior clone. Bloodstains on your Computer-issued property. Ignoring a request from the Computer. More suspected use of mutant powers. Assaulting a higher clearance clone. Possession of a 'Magic 8-ball.' Failure to be happy. Tell me, citizen--why should I not kill you?"

Sock begs for his life: "Please don't kill me!" He drops to the floor with his hands on his face. "I'm a humble servant of the Computer. My intent was merly to ensure that the mission was completed as directed." Sock continues, crying like a baby that can't hold its pee: "Besides Herc-R was telling me that the Computer had a secret mission for him and that I was to help, but the first thing was to have Red give up his command. Besides the only reason he was in comand was that he stole the braids from Pole's dead clone. Pole shuold have been our commander, not Red. Th..th..then Red freaked out and started shooting at me when his laser blew up in his face, and that's when he stated calling me mutant." He screams like a dying woman, "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!!!!"

All this time, the big guardbot has been sorting through Sock's stuff, sorting it into two piles. The Computer says, "You may go back to your team now, Sock-TES-2."

Sock realizes the Computer left his rank out of his name. That can't be good.

The guardbot picks up the smaller of the two piles and hands it to Sock, "Your equipment." Still sniffling, Sock starts to suit up. He gets a set of black coveralls (INFRARED, oh no), his pad and pen, the ball of string, a putty knife, the winter clothes (still torn and bloody), and the fanny pack (now empty).

The Computer says, "I am trying a new way to handle inept traitors such as yourself. You may continue on this troubleshooter mission, and if you perform well in your duties, you may earn back your RED security clearance. If not, HEL sector could always use a new INFRARED drone to help maintain the nuclear reactors."

Example 2: Puck-R-UPP Gets Tested

Puck darts south to find a nearby bathroom, but the TaFT-bots each take an arm and lift his round, well- armed form from the floor. They carry him past the bathrooms and just keep marching. Puck looks back, terrified.

Puck uses his mutant powers to--

no, Puck grabs his plasma rifle and...

um, Puck uses his vast intellect to convince the bots that...

...aw fuck.

Eventually, the bots reach the Emotional Therapy room and take Puck inside. They drop Puck in the center of the room, weapons and all and take up positions on either side of the now closed door (there had been a third bot, but it did not come in).

Emotional Therapy is the size of a largish office-- about 5 meters square. A filing cabinet has been pushed into one corner with the drawers facing a wall, and a desk has been pushed up against the filing cabinet. There are two chairs stacked on the desk. The rest of the room is empty, and the walls are covered with splotchy unidentifiable stains and brighter patches where pictures or certificates once hung. A whining hum comes from behind one wall. There is only the one door.

As best as Puck's terror-seized throat can manage, Puck says "O massive and desire-fulfilling Computer, I beg of you, tell me how I have offended you so that I may mend my ways and attone for my wrongs. It was right to bring me here, for my emotions have become overwrought after being ordered by that traitorous Pole to incinerate a beloved fellow teammate. Look at the burdens I carry as pennance!"

Puck opens his coat and displays his armoury to the ceiling. "I carry this weight for my teammates, and I sweat for you, O Great Computer! Oh, please oh please oh please, I'm a good person inside, really! What do you want me to do for you? I'll hit my head on the floor! I'll shoot my foot! If you had a dick I'd su--" Puck thinks twice about finishing that one. "Oh please tell me how to prove to you that I'm your loving slave? Please? Computer... I want my test tube..."

The bots make no response. The humming behind the wall gets slightly softer and changes in pitch.

When there is no response, Puck moves to the far wall to check out the humming. There is obviously some kind of very large machine working like the Dickens on the other side of the wall. The wall vibrates, and Puck can even feel a faint tremor in his feet when he stands over here. This wall has no vents, outlets, or other features.

Puck looks at the wall, and his hand creeps toward his plasma gun.

Then he stops to consider the wisdom of that action.

Puck is a little unnerved by the total lack of any adventure in the room. Nervously, he approaches one of the TaFT-bots and nochalantly asks, "So, stand around and look menacing often?"

Without movement, the bot replies, "Yes."

"Okay, okay, okay," Puck starts walking in a circle and clapping his hands in front of him. "Think, think, I've got to--" Puck stops, and a small electric bulb appears hovering above his head. He rushes toward a bot--

--and stops. "Naw, that won't work." Puck sulks a bit, and then walks over and gets a chair down, and sits on it.

Puck contemplates the humming wall.

"Computer, I think this is a test that you are testing me with, and I don't want to fail this test!" Puck shouts. "How can I pass this test that you are testing me with?"

Puck stands up, picks up the chair, and throws it at the wall. It is a typical office-type swivel chair on wheels. It bounce from the wall and clatters to the floor with its wheels spinning. The back is now connected at a funny angle. The bots react in no way whatsoever. The wall (solid metal painted black) has not even the decency to quiver for a moment.

In Emotional Therapy, Puck's left eye begins to twitch. Puck sits on the edge of the table and idly spins one of the chair's upturned wheels with his foot, as he mutters a little song--obviously one he learned in his test-tube days:

"The Computer loves me, yes he does he keeps me safe from death above and keeps me safe from wicked thought and keeps me doing what I ought The Computer makes me do my best and trains my clone when I digress and shoots me dead when I offend but only cuz he is my friend The Computer gives me things to do and gives me friends to play with too and gives me toys to share with them and then he takes them back again The Computer keeps me straight and true and shows me the right thing to do and kills those who don't toe the line the Computer is so fucking fine."

Puck clasps his hands and looks wistfully at the ceiling. The bots on either side of the door make no motion, but one of them makes an audible sniffing noise. The Computer is very notably silent.

"Hey pal," Puck says amiably to the bot that sniffed. "What're you in for? Me, I don't even know. Yep, but I'm not complainin, see? Just thought that us in here should stick together, know what I mean?"

The bot responds, "I know exactly what I am here for. It is my duty to ensure that you complete your full course of Emotional Therapy."

"But I'm emotional, man! I'm emotional! Can't you see?" Puck's outstretched arms and upturned palms encourage the bot to accept his point of view and let him out of the room without any further ado.

The bot says nothing but holds out its arms in supplication in a poor imitation of Puck.

The anger in Puck builds and builds. He obsessively fingers his most dangerous weapons, and if the bots were attentive, they would notice a glint in Puck's eyes which would tell them, in no uncertain terms, that great violence was about to erupt and none would be spared, not even Puck himself.

Unfortunately, the bots are not terribly attentive. The one with supplicating hands turns to the other who assumes the same pose. Standing on either side of the door, they form a little bridge above it with their joined hands and begin bouncing a little in unison to some unheard melody. Naturally, bots of this nature are incapable of displaying emotion, so it must all be in Puck's head, but he would swear that as they bounce, their legs flex in an almost mocking fashion--he shakes it off; it's all in his head-- they're just ordinary bouncing bots.

Grumbling and stomping about, Puck suddenly remembers something and his eyes light up. He pulls out his weapons list and sure enough: Gauss Gun! Puck's not sure what it is, but it sure sounds like some kind of electromagnetic, anti-bot, superweapon of some kind. Rifling through his arsenal, Puck finds it... or at least he finds what must be it. A short rifle with all sorts of unneccesary chrome and fins and flanges and such.

Puck holds it gingerly and begins polishing its age-worn surface. While still doing their mocking bounce, one of the bots turns its head and says, "Pardon me, citizen, but I am certain you are of insufficient clearance to..." and that's as far as it gets when the gun accidentally discharges in the bots' general direction.

There was no visible display of discharge, but both bots seem to have frozen in place.

Woo hoo! Puck says "Awl righ-- I mean, sorry guys. Guys?" Puck investigates the frozen bots. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he crosses under the bot bridge and passes through the doorway, because the door is, of course, not locked or otherwise unopenable. No, Puck has suffered too much for that to happen. Too much.

Puck suddenly feels remorse for the bots. To the bot that had the bravery to relate to a mere human, Puck gives a teardrop--that Puck carves into the bot's face with a knife. When he's finished, Puck caresses the bot's cheeck with his hand, and coos "Don't cry, baby. It's just that we've grown apart. This had to happen. Shhh," Puck puts his finger against where the bot's lips would be if it had lips. "Don't watch me go." Puck goes.

Example 3:Red-R-MEE Picks Hand or Pocket

The inside of the confessional seems suddenly confined and stifling. Red hears a chilling woman's scream from outside, and two TaFT-bots almost rip the confessional door off as they fling it open. Red's protest dies on his lips as the bots grab him. His breath rushes out of him as they haul him at what must be a good 40 or 50 kph back towards PLC. Red hopes beyond hope that PLC is his destination, but of course, they stop short at a non-descript door marked "Emotional Therapy." The bots heave Red ungraciously through the door while they remain outside. The door shuts behind him.

Emotional Therapy is the size of a largish office-- about 5 meters square. A filing cabinet has been pushed into one corner with the drawers facing a wall, and a desk has been pushed up against the filing cabinet. There are two chairs stacked on the desk. The walls are covered with splotchy unidentifiable stains and brighter patches where pictures or certificates once hung. A whining hum comes from behind one wall. There is only the one door. On either side of the door is a TaFT-bot. They face each other with their arms upraised and their hands linked, forming an arch over the doorway. They do not move.

The only other occupant of the room is a third TaFT-bot that looms over Red where he sits on the floor. The bot is wearing a long black lab coat made of some very shiny material. It holds what looks like a red foam ball about 8cm across which it repeatedly tosses into the air and then catches.

Red is dejected and beaten.

Red says, "I apologize Computer. The amount of treason and willful disobedience has confused and confounded me. Let me add my final concern: Willful disobedience: Sock's willful disobedience overall is highly treasonous and entirely suspect. I believe he has made a concerted effort to keep me confused and off-balance, thus leading to my forgetting the final concern."

Red turns his com-unit on to broadcast to the entire party, but stops as the TaFT-bot before him approaches menacingly.

It holds up the red foam ball with a flourish. Then holds it up on its other side. Then it rubs its hands together, and quickly holds up empty palms to show that the ball has somehow disappeared.

Red is very confused, and then is even more so as the bot reaches behind Red's ear, and produces the foam ball again.

Red forms words in his head and tries again to speak, but the bot is not finished: it passes its two hands together and then quickly jams one into a pocket on its shiny coat while holding the other hand upraised in a fist.

The pocketed hand slides out, and the bot shows that it is empty. With the closed hand still raised, the bot asks in an odd accent, "Hand or pocket? Hand or pocket?"

Red squints his eyes at the taft-bot. He scratches his head and looks quickly at his feet. Suddenly, as if struck by inspiration from above he begins to shout in a voice with a weird accent that resembles the taft-bot's. The accent is distinguished and sophisticated sounding, yet still breezy, uncaring and condescending.

"Fuck you! It's in the pocket! It's always in the fucking pocket!"

The bot opens its upstretched hand to reveal the foam ball. The other arm backhands Red across the room, his body slamming into the door. The bot yells, "Fuck you! It's in the hand."

Red's back aches and blood is running into his eye. The bot does it's flashy routine again. Red, realizing the importance of this, follows the bots movements carefully and would swear the ball ended up in the pocket.

The TaFT-bot seems to taunt him: "Try again, mate. Hand or pocket? Hand or fucking pocket?"

Red wipes the blood away from his head. His accent is gone, and with all sincerity he says to the Taft-bot, "Before I give you my answer, let me just say, that the location of the ball and whether or not I properly guess the location is moot. What is important is that you have properly beat me back into my right mind and set me back on the straight and narrow. And may I say, mission accomplished. That being said..."

[OCC from Red's Player to Game Master: the mind games are afoot. On the one hand, I know the routine-- if it was in the hand once, it will always be in the fucking hand. But you know that I'll be thinking that, don't you? So you'll put it in the pocket. However, I thought it was in the pocket, so you want to give me a little food for thought. Obviously my initial guess must be wrong because the trick is slight of hand. I think its in the pocket because he wants me to think its in the pocket, and that's how I'm fucked because its actually in the hand. However, that presupposes that robots are good at slight of hand. All that aside, I picked pocket for a very different reason- hand got it last time, so pocket's due a hit, baby. Of course, chances are you didn't predetermine where the ball is and you'll just go with what you think is funniest. D'oh.]

Red bites his lip thoughtfully. His eyes dart doubtfully to the taft-bot's hand and then hopefully to the taft-bot's pocket. He looks to the taft-bots at the door for assistance, but they stand pat. He says, "...pocket."

The bot stands still, looking at the floor, until Red is just about ready to change his answer. Then, it pulls its hand out of its pocket and slowly opens it to reveal the ball. "Fuck me. It's in the pocket." The upraised fist has still not moved. The bot gazes levelly at Red. It seems to be emitting a low rumbling.

[OCC from Game Master to Red's Player: The first one was arbitrarily in whatever you didn't choose. The second time, it was in the pocket all along, so your answer made a difference. How about that?]

Red says to the taft-bot, "Don't take it bad, sir. After all, you got to beat me like a dirty dog-bot and now I've learned my lesson. I'd say that's a victory."

Red clicks his com-unit over to broadcast to the whole party, "Pole, this is Red. I'll be just a few more minutes in Emotional Therapy, then I'll be right there."

Red begins walking to the door out. He begins to bend backwards (but not awkwardly so), while walking out the door. He's careful not to touch the two taft-bots with their arms arching over the door.