I’m playing Dispatch, which I’m enjoying despite not usually being one for visual novels, or at least visual novel-adjacent games. I’m planning on doing a full-length post on my other blogs, so I won’t deep-dive, but in general, I don’t really enjoy just watching a game happen with minimal input from me. Though, I’m finding Dispatch has enough dialogue prompts and actual gameplay mechanics that are actually pretty fun and the game is fully animated and voice-acted, so even the ‘watch the game happen’ parts are well-executed.
Essentially, the game is called Dispatch, because your character works as a dispatcher for what is basically a corporation running an on-call superhero services. It’s a bit more nuanced than that, but that’s enough to illustrate my inspiration for today’s scene.
© J.B. Norman — Published by Emona Literary Services™
Due to a recent major increase in criminal activity in Porthaven’s Dock District, the mercenary company of Boss Virrad and Company has been hired to lead the city’s response and put to rest the concerns and unsubtle public pitchfork-sharpenings of the Porthaven Dockside Business Owners’ Association, the Porthaven Friends of Not Performing Criminal Activities, and the Porthaven Light Opera Society who has moved into one of the warehouses as their rehearsal space.
Boss Virrad has recruited several freelancers to be available at a moment’s notice to respond to any and all crises unfolding in the Dock District. A complex network of scrying orbs has been established to give the Company eyes on the entire Dock District at once.
Boss Virrad has tasked one of his trusted lieutenants, Face-Puncher Pete to organise the crew of freelancers and dispatch them as needed.
As they wait for their next shift to start, the freelancers are milling around the dockside warehouse that has been repurposed into their base of operations, sharing tales of the last shift’s exploits.
“… with a pencil! Three guys!”
“You should have seen it…”
“The smell is still in my hair!”
“Are, uh, are you doing anything later?”
As one of the freelancers, Kat is largely keeping to herself while awaiting her next assignment.
Despite her best efforts not to be talked to, the other freelancers are still talking to her.
“So, how’d your last shift go?” one of the other freelancers is asking her.
“Sewer rats,” Kat answers simply.
“Sewer… rats?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t, either.”
Face-Puncher Pete – who is proving to have a remarkable knack for administration and organisation in addition to the punching of faces – comes out of the back room and addresses the freelancers.
“Good work so far, guys. I’m proud of us,” he declares. “But, Stepan, I’d like see a little less stabbing people with pencils.”
“It was self-defence,” Stepan mutters petulantly.
“Alright,” Face-Puncher Pete says, looking up from his little notebook, filled with the latest scrying reports. “Listen up, everybody. Here’s this shift’s assignments.”
The freelancers all lean forward intently.
“Stepan, you’re going to be investigating the recent break-ins at the Pencilworks.”
“Yes!”
“But, again, please keep the stabbing to a minimum.”
“Aww…”
“Simone, Countess Philerma’s cat is stuck up a tree.”
“What? Again? That stupid cat.”
And so it goes.
It’s only after Face-Puncher Pete has finished talking that Kat realises that she hasn’t been assigned an… assignment.
“Hey!” Kat calls after him, bolting up from the little stool she’s been sitting on. “You forgot me. Where’s my job?”
“Oh, I didn’t forget,” Face-Puncher Pete says, smiling warmly at her.
“So, uh, what should I do?” Kat asks.
“You’ve got the most important role of all.”
“Really?”
“Indeed, you do. Here’s everybody’s lunch orders. Get to it.”
He hands her a note.
She glances sceptically up at him. Then down at the note. Then back up at him.
“What’s a haggis? And why does Albin want three of them?”
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