If you’ve noticed an internet wide slowdown over the last few days, it is probably the result of around eight billion people firing off E-Mail messages aimed at informing me that I screwed up one of my Riposte responses. In a way this is kinda good. For a while I was wondering whether or not people were even bothering to read Riposte at all. Now I know that all I have to do is seriously screw up an answer and I’ll receive a fairly accurate count of everybody who visits that section of the page. In any case, the question and screwed up response are as follows:

Question: When you get a piece of cyberware and down the line decide that you can do without it, do you get the essence (or however you spell it) back if it’s removed

Answer: Yes. (NOTE: You still have to go through the same type of surgery to get it removed that you went through to get it installed.)

Of course, as half the population of the world pointed out to me, this answer is flat wrong. On page 39 of Shadowtech, there is a paragraph written in plain English that basically states that you don’t get your essence back, although you are permitted to reuse the ‘open slot’ created by the removal of cyberware.

So, why did I screw up in such a serious way? Well, one reason is the fact that I haven’t read that section of Shadowtech since 1995. I have trouble remembering stuff from three minutes ago, let alone three years. But, in truth, the primary reason I screwed up is because I did what many GMs do after they’ve been shadowrunning since the beginning of time: I interpreted my impressions as law. In other words, I forgot about the rule because, somewhere along the line, I created my own.

The foundation of my house rule is found in the initial definition of essence located on page 42 of the good ole’ SRII Rulebook: “Essence is a measure of the soundness of the central nervous system and spirit. Invasive things, such as cyberware, reduce Essence.” Now, the key word I latched onto here is ‘invasive’. Invasive (“of, like, or having the nature of invasion”) seems to indicate that it is the actual presence of an article of cyberware that causes the disruption in a person’s essence. Therefore, it would seem logical that the removal of this invasive item would cause an individual’s essence to return to normal.

As exhibit A, I offer the cyberarm v.s. lobbed off arm scenario. In Shadowrun, the simple absence of a limb does not affect the essence rating in any way. If your runner decides to piss off a Mafia don, and the don responds by sending over a number of large men named Mario to chainsaw off one of your arms, you do not lose essence once your arm is unceremoniously detached from your body. In fact, you could wander around without this arm for as long as you wished with no real penalty other than the fact that you’d suck dirt in a boxing match.

However, if you decide to replace that arm with a piece of cyberware, you are introducing a foreign, mechanical, invasive object into your body. (Yes, ‘into’; it’s not like they duct tape it onto your stump.) It is at this point that you experience essence loss. Yet if you decide to get the arm removed at a later time, once again leaving you with a stump, you don’t get your essence back.

The rules in Shadowtech, presenting a complicated medical explanation featuring words like ‘nanite’, go a long way towards explaining exactly what happens to your body when a piece of ware is installed. Contrary to popular perception, you don’t simply ‘plug it in’ and reconnect the necessary nerve endings. It requires substantial alteration of cell tissue, nerves, etc. in order to integrate the ware. So, based on this information, it may be possible to mount the argument that, even after you remove cyberware, a large amount of residual implant damage remains and therefore your essence does not return to normal.

Here’s where things start to get fuzzy. Now, it would seem logical that in order to completely remove a piece of cyberware you would have to undergo a surgical procedure similar in scope to the original operation. The complexity of the initial installation procedure is rated from Minor Cosmetic up to Drastic Invasive, and it would seem that the removal of the ware would again fall into one of these categories, only this time you’re basing the costs and surgical ‘damage’ on the essence total of the ware that’s being removed as opposed to being installed. Since you’re paying the same amount of cash to get the ware ripped out as you did to get it installed, and since medical science is advanced enough to put the ware in in the first place, I don’t see why they can’t return everything to normal, perhaps by regrowing nervous tissue, rebuilding cells, and making other biogenetic adjustments that are a piece of cake when compared with the complicated task of cyberware installation.

It is at this point that we encounter a problem that’s been around since the Second Edition Rulebook first came out: The elective surgery cost table that appeared in the First Edition is GONE. Most people don’t even realize that this is a problem, or that such a table even existed or was necessary. Odds are, when dealing with the installation or removal of cyberware, they simply made the character pay the costs of the ware and recovery and left it at that. But if you read the SRII rules closely you’ll find a sentence that states that “Surgery costs do not include the cost of recovery”. These ‘surgery costs’, as far as I know, are not found anywhere in any 2nd edition book. (Actually, somebody just informed me that it's in Cybertech. So just go ahead and disregard this paragraph.)

In order for my essence recovery philosophy to work, you need this surgery cost table. It is these costs that represent, in my mind, the additional delicate work involved in the installation and removal of cyberware. By paying the same surgery costs to take the ware out as you did to put it in you’re providing compensation for the reconstruction of the sections of your body altered by invasive cyberware. After this surgical procedure is over, no trace of the original ware should exist in your body.

Until now I’ve been using a makeshift elective surgery cost table in order to compensate for the loss of the original table. It didn’t help that my 1st edition book was stolen by a former friend turned drug dealer about two years ago. But, since I figured it was a good idea to include the actual table in this article, I logged on to #shadowrun where an extremely kind individual named Freehaven was nice enough to send over the original 1st Edition costs for me. Here it they are:

Minor Cosmetic: 1000

Minor Invasive: 5000

Major Invasive: 25000

Drastic Invasive: 250000

As you can see the costs involved in major surgery can get pretty steep. But I think these costs make sense, considering the complicated processes involved in cyberware installation and removal. When ware is installed, the costs cover the cellular manipulation, nanite related infusions, and other aspects of successfully integrating the ware. When cyberware is remove, the costs cover the cellular repair procedures, nervous system regrowth, muscle or skin replacement, and other tweaks necessary to get rid of cybernetic enhancements and ensure that there isn’t a big hole left behind once the ware is removed.

So, getting back to my original house rule, I think that by paying these costs to remove the ware your body should return to normal.

“Yeah, but what about the ‘spirit’ aspect of essence? Won’t it still retain the damage done to it by invasive cyberware?”. Good question. In my opinion, the character’s spirit will eventually recover from the shock of cyberware installation. I don’t have any quotable info to base this opinion on, I’m simply running off the impression that the soul (or whatever you want to call it) is a forgiving entity. If a magician can regain lost magic, I don’t see why a sammy can’t eventually reclaim their essence.

So there you have it. Blackjack’s Essence 901 course. As usual, I’m not trying to force my rule related impressions on anybody. I’m simply presenting an alternative point of view that presents essence loss in a less fatalistic light. Just think about it: Your burnt out mage still has some hope of reclaiming her powers, your rigger can retire free of cybernetic burdens, and your sammy can, someday, restore some of the sanity he lost during his years of mechanical squandering.

Nothing should be final.