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 It had been Uncle Jack who'd arranged it, though mostly because sitting in his lair by himself with only Uncle Jack was there was clearly having a bad effect on the boy. He was just thinking about what he'd left behind in Maine and going in circles. The only time he'd gone outside was to sneak into a church every sunday. And so Uncle Jack had told him to send a letter to a particular address, and be at a certain crossroads at midnight. And that is where he was collected by the valets. There was something oddly familiar about sitting in the back of the car, being driven to an unknown place, to a 'new family' though this one was most certainly not a proper foster family. When he was in the room, he found himself a corner and glowered moodily. Would this be different? Would he be able to make friends among people who were also, well, 'the bad sort'? Or was it just going to be the same story? Did he even want friends here? Or did he just want some people to back him up in humbling some folks. He did give a glare in Möbius' direction. A wizard, looking oh so superior. No, not him, not here. There were plenty of wizards to humble, and not enough time. He'd leave this one alone... probably. The green skeletal figure came at him, and Damien tried his best unimpressed sneer, even if part of him was worried. What if they rejected him? That'd be the most pathetic, if he couldn't even fit in here. quote:"Who are you?" "I am Twilight. The Herald of Dusk." He said. quote:"What can the Association do for you?" Be a place where I can belong. Be a place where I'm not the untrustworthy rear end in a top hat, since everyone is. Maybe I could even have friends here? Ugh, that is loving pathetic. "Doesn't matter how powerful you are, if you're on your own and someone gets in a lucky shot, you're out. I'll have people here to watch my back. Literally and in ways like, technology and poo poo." ugh, should he try to reduce the cussing. Does cussing fit a Twilight, Herald of Dusk? On the other hand, gently caress it, he shouldn't be fake, right? "And if I want the opportunity to find some witches and wizards who think they're all that, or get back at snooty fae." quote:"What can you do for the Association?" "I've got my powers, I can use them for others. Do you have a lot of people who can gently caress with souls? Necromancy. Anyone good at sneaking, I can make sure they've got shadows. And, you know, whatever gave me my powers is something it might pay to be on the right side of." quote:"Yeah. I've been expecting you for some time, Damien. Here's the deal: Don't be such a wet blanket. There isn't anything you're ever going to be able to do about it. And remember I used to know you when you were in diapers. Tell your Uncle Jack I said... hello." "Eh... I'll eh... tell him." Twilight's face was already pale, or he'd have paled further. Well, Uncle Jack's secret had been revealed before, and these days he had the power. And at least that was one thing out of the way. But what was Uncle Scratch' connection with Uncle Jack and the Shadow Realm? I mean, the Shadow Realm wasn't, like, the devil right? Right? Anyway, he couldn't just let him show how he got to him. He returned to a bitter grin. "Yeah, I know. Guess all that's left is to enjoy the ride. And, you know, think of it like becoming a beautiful butterfly eventually." And not like a spaceminer hatching a xenomorph.  The room when he entered actually had two corpses present, looked like two policemen. Guess they really wanted a demonstration. It felt... wrong to just use them so openly, with those weird... body-parts inspecting it. For so long he'd been keeping all of this a secret. Now here he was, using his powers openly for the first time really. Still, that was the way it went. Twilight extended a hand, and as he did, his shadow's hand extended further, creeping like tendrils on the floor until the shadow of his fingers touched the corpses' shadows and crept in those shadow's mouth. The corpses seemed to gag and with slow, lumbering movements they got up to their feet, looking at Damien with dull, dead eyes. "I haven't tested my limits on humans, but if it's anything like animals, I can keep at least dozens of these things under my control." He said. Then, there were the holograms that started attacking. Twilight didn't move from his place, hands moving like a music director as he steered his shadows to turn into phyisical darkness that cut and sliced at the holograms, sending them falling apart. The two zombies too, struck with bludgeoning force against the holograms, heedless of pain or personal safety. Though while Twilight focused on cutting the holographic heroes apart, he didn't notice that when one of them punched one of the zombie policemen down, the other one's expression took an angry expression and it moved a bit quicker into tearing that hologram apart, ignoring the hologram it had been fighting before. Finally, Twilight was satisfied with his show, and looked up at the sources of light, raising his hands and making the shadows rise and thicken. "Holograms are just light projections, right?" He clenched his hands with a grin. He liked this. Not having to hide. Just showing off. "My shadows don't fear the light." And then the darkness would clog the projectors, making the holograms fade out. Hidden fact: Raised zombies actually retain vague memories and feelings, even if they are obedient. The Freak Chamber: 2d6+2 11  The next room Twilight was fighting a witch, Melisande. A cute redhead one with broom and wide black rimmed head. She seemed to be able to cause various weather patterns to happen out of thin air, and Twilight was forced to dodge lightning bolts and hailstorms as he rushed over the ground. Which also meant she wasn't having any trouble with articial walls coming up and vanishing constantly. Twilight would strike at her, shadowy claws striking at her, but she would always dodge them. Until finally, Twilight conjured a screaming banshee, just as one of the walls was rising up, it distracted her long enough to crash into one of the walls and fall down, where shadows grasped her. "You enjoy flying above people, don't you? That's how witches are, thinking they're better than others. Well, I'm not so helpless anymore!" Damien, somewhat injured by her spells cast his own spell, and drained some of her health to heal his own wounds, a vicious grin on his face. Quickly, Melisande called for Damien to back off. Danger roll: 2d6 7  Alright, Twilight never really expected to get a good score on this. He always hated Gym classes, and his necromancy and shadow magic could only indirectly help him. His teammate, some alien/mutant woman who could change shapes, ditched him pretty much at the start. Damien tried to use shadows to carry him, a mis-throw actually send him falling into some citrus juice pit. However, as he was slowly making his way, he was actually doubled by some other team, and he noticed a lady, looking oh so popular and apparently FAE, Royal Rose Oh, screw it, he didn't even care about his own results. Findign a dark spots, and drawing shadows over him to hide, he'd spend more time actively sabotaging her than trying to safe what was left of his time. By the time he was at the end, Bouncing Betty sighed as she noted his score/ Trouble Run: 2d6+1 3  Twilight gave a sound of disgust as he looked at what looked a lot like school work. Considering he'd always known SOMETHING was in the future for him that did not involve college, he'd never really spent any amount of effort into getting anything but the most rudimentary education. Only the occult questions received some answers from his own knowledge. For the rest, he simply seemed to ask the question out loud, then seemed to listen and then note down the answer. Well, until Madame Mode spoke up and informed him that she had been informed he had outside help, and for the sake of his tests, he should cease using him now. After that, it was mostly wild guesses and blanks. By the time the last question came, which was something about a question about whether it's better to take make one qucik robbery of $ 1.000.000 or do a steady monthly drain of $ 50.000 a month, he replied the former. Which was supposed to be the right answer in that it would allow for the investment in actions of greater scope. But feeling depressed by gloom after his poor show on the Trouble Run and his failing answers here, he just wrote. "None of that will matter within a few years." and handed it in. Superior Hall: 2d6-1 6  The initial confrontation was rather hostile. "Wow, Twilight, I'm getting some major bad vibes from your side here." Twilight seemed to brood on top of his couch. "I've visited plenty of shrinks. Trying to figure out what is wrong with me." Counter Culture raised his hands. "Hm, well, you see. Usually a shrink is all about making sure you fit in society. But that's not really what M.A.D.D.is about, you dig? I always hate they call this an evaluation. Sounds like you're here to get a passing grade. Look, you know we've got some cats here who'd be put in a striaghtjacket by a normal doctor, 'for the good of society' So cut me some slack here, aligator?" Damien fumed for a while, but nodded. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?" "Well, I was going over your answers. You told us what we can do for you. But, what are you trying to do, Twilight, my man?" "Revenge." Came the answer quickly. "Have you been powerless? I've been most of my life. Handed out like party favors by the adoption agency and tossed back like a bad Christmas gift by 'nice' couples. Schools out to get me. Fae and witches and wizard families hunting me down, trying to take everything I care about, making me lose people I care about. I want them to feel that! I want them to feel every bit of helplessness I've felt! I want them begging, I want them weeping, I want them be fully aware that everything they have, everything they are, they can't protect it. And I can just take it away." The shadows seemed to move, and Damien looked away briefly as if listening to someone else. "I used to keep a lot more secrets. Not any more. They cost too much... Yes, that's true, Lisa never trusted me. But... maybe if I'd told her, she could have trusted me eventually? If the witch and the fae hadn't interfered, it could have all been worked out! It's their fault!" He then looked at Counter Culture, as if he'd just remembered he was there. "Sorry, I've been... living on my own for a while. Look, I'm not too crazy to work with, okay? I know not to strike the people on my side. Even if you make me work with the Fae Princess, if it's for M.A.D.D., I'll go after others. My shitlist goes three times around the world. I'm not going to sabotage myself by attacking people covering my back." I'm kind of hoping I'll find friends here. It hurt so much losing them all when I ran away, but being all alone is worse. I need friends. This time, they'll be evil like me, and I'm not weak so I don't have to lie as much, I'll be able to have friends and we'll come through for eachother. The conversation went on, though at some point, there was a reaction, when Counter-Culture referred to Damien as an Anti-Christ figure. "Look, I'm not the Anti-Christ or anything, right? It's not, the devil or anything. I'm not serving hell or nothing." "Is that important to you?" Came the question. "Do you consider yourself a Christian?" "Eh..." Damien hemmed and hawed, before he realized that the very fact he didn't answer a straight 'no' probably answered it. "Well, my last foster parents. They were good people. They forgave for... well, stealing the money for their mortage. And, well, with all the fucks in power that end up discarding me. The idea that there is someone in ultra-charge who could be 'it's okay' no matter how badly I'm loving up..." he shook his head. "But then, I'm not sure if I'm qualifying considering what I'm doing. What I am. Look, I don't know, okay?" Office of Menace: 2d6+1 7 Shogeton fucked around with this message at 01:31 on May 30, 2016 |
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May 14, 2016 01:27
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I've decided I'm going to pass on this game for now. It looks like two other people here have similar ideas to mine, plus I accidentally deleted the draft I was working on in response to the first round of questions.
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May 15, 2016 00:52
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:"Who are you?" Yo, yeah. Nadia Fern. I run the @ShirtlessSleaves twitter and website. I'm, kind of a big deal. You're not really the target demographic though. But there's always room to improve the brand. Really that's what I'm hoping to get out of this. I've seen what's going on in the election. Villainy is a growth industry. People love rebels after all. And I'm a natural born one. ...Not that I can't work with you guys. I just don't like asinine rules. I'm sure you feel the same way, what with the whole sans frontiers thing. With the resources from you guy I can carve out the type of empire that has some real power. A media empire. Hell it'll be good for the both of us. Idealist types can get some good press to really send out their message. Really it's just about being seen though, am I right? All these capes get so much exposure, and they don't even do anything with it! Hell you'll be lucky if you see a villain with a developed sense of showmanship let alone a hero. Of sure you all have pizzazz but it's really haphazard in some of you. I'm not commenting on you by the way I don't really know how you ran your ship. Right so these dudes could have sponsorships and the works. They barely have fan clubs. Well official ones. The weirdos I've met online have very important opinions on the business. I didn't really get involved in it Kill la Kill ruined shipping for me. And I'd probably have a rule about involving real people with fan fiction poo poo. What was I talking about? Right, right. So I want to be famous. Like real famous not internet famous. Not even real internet famous. But really real famous. Like knock Pitt off the front page famous. I mean, I'm not some egomaniac, I got more plans than that but it's step one. People need to give a rat drat who I am before I can let them know my extremely good and correct opinions on important topics like what anime is for plebeians. Actual skills though, not being just an ideas guy, I can hack the gibson. I can basically produce Twitter's code from memory. And yo snake, I can sneak that poo poo. I've slipped in and out of a few hairy situations. But the big thing is the code monkeying. I was the one that hacked Melody Skye-Edgar's twitter... that's not her over there is it? Uh don't doxx me on that. It was pretty funny though, right? Oh, yeah I don't really follow her either. My friends are all into that nonsense though. Yeah but I've been practicing on harder targets. So I know I got the skills to pay the bills. Ugh. Well that would make boosting my brand with this a little difficult but I guess I could work it. I could heh, yeah I could just have a hooded cape. Go by "Exposé" and specialize in screwing with heroes' personal lives. Haha. But seriously is there a rule about that? My skin is super sensitive I'll kill myself before I put on one of those body suits. Basically the less the better. I just cringe looking at some of the get ups you guys are in. So many layers and that material just hugging the body. Bleh. I figured I might not be sent out to much field work with my skills anyway. Maybe just a hologram projector for my face, yeah. I always thought the Laughing Man was a neat title. Like the Laughing God, or the Illusive Man. Those sorts of things. I could like project Pepe over my head. Except not Pepe because holy poo poo I at least pretend to have integrity. I'll see what my options are before I decide on something I guess. Besides i want this. I don't want to be some boy scout, or some two bit white noise let's player, I want to make my mark on the world. I want people to step aside when I roll through. I already got a well known alias. A screen name people have heard of isn't worth poo poo. I pull bank off my gig, but I don't get any respect. I'm here to change that. People are going to respect Nadia Fern. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:
9 Nadia's display of skill is pretty unglamorous. Her infiltration against the sentry bots was a methodical affair that didn't rely on any gadgets or tricks. When she reaches the target, the control node for the robot sentries, she pulls out her phone. She compiled onto it stock code injections to speed up her work. Though she never thought of it as programming she essentially made a hack by numbers app. She inputs the relevant code and fills in the cracks to make it work. "So should I be let's play commentating on this stuff? Right now I'm typing a lot and it's not like a 90s hacker movie at all." It all seems too easy to her so she brute forces herself further into the program. When she starts messing with the code of the simulation system at large it is quickly shut off. "What was that it?" Nadia makes a jerk off motion. "Real basic. But I guess you only need to see I'm not straight up lying about this stuff." Tricky Dick Nixon posted:
Nadia is matched up against Jac Hammer. A typically feminine girl who over compensates with her stoic villainous persona.The arena is littered with cover but features a straight shot between the two contestants. Jackie spits when she sees her unimpressive quarry and approaches. She takes fierce deliberate steps and punches her open palm with ringing metal clanks. Nadia didn't bother claiming she could fight and figured at least she could appear brave to the big shots. "Oh no! Don't break my butt! She's gonna break my butt! Please don't jack hammer my rear end! I don't want to die from an rear end hammering!" Nadia turns around and slaps her rear end as Jackie closes into punching range. "I need it, it's the money maker after all!" Jackie stops dead when she notices Nadia isn't wearing panties under her micro skirt. In a fit of brilliance Nadia senses the opening and plants a sole into Jackie's crotch. "Break yourself fool!" Ending the fight immediately. "Woo!" She throws her hands up in the air. "I can't believe that worked. ...No hard feelings, right?" Tricky Dick Nixon posted:
7 Nadia quickly takes umbrage with Melody's attitude when exposed to it. The two quickly establish that neither are interested in the other's "forceful" personality. As much as Nadia would like to put the pampered celebrity in her place a physical obstacle course isn't exactly where a skinny nerd should be dwarfing any competition. But just completing the thing should be better than someone who's probably had a servant wipe their rear end. Besides it was more important to succeed and get her foot in the door. Then Nadia could direct everyone she needed to to her rear end so that they could kiss it. The climbing section requires upper body strength and was a complete nonstarter for Nadia. After a few tries she was informed that she should just walk around the wall and eat the time hit for doing so. Her stumbling through the rest of the obstacle course was relatively haphazard with no natural agility. Finally a panel in the wall shot out at her but she ducks under it in time. "Ha, I've seen that season of wipe out!" She comparably blazes through the dodging sections. Her twitch reflexes leaves her untouched by the spring panels, and the rotating bars were just a poor man's bullet hell to weave through. Her time was almost respectable with her flawless performance on the Tricky Dick Nixon posted:
10 Nadia keeps her phone between her legs on her chair to shore up any weakness on the testing. Torturous Thinking is her best showing sans google. History is her weakest but easiest to just look up. She didn't know her own grandfather was The Crimson Cat, famous sneak thief that foiled caped sleuths for years. Her parents never talked about it, and it was probably the reason apparently her dad took on her mother's last name. After getting the few facts it was easy to BS why the Crimson Cat never had a legacy, uh obviously her dad didn't want to stake his lively hood on such risky business. Never mind that he tangles with real estate. What are they gonna say they know her dad better than her? Well, they might. But probably not. The sorcery questions really tripped her up, exploiting her passive familiarity so that she didn't double check her answers. Particularly her experience with the arcane was from a hero so demonology was a subject she didn't really have the details on. The questions referred to the demons by names they've held through history but not their true names, which is what the questions were really getting at. The true purpose of the question flew over Nadia's head. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:
"Oh man, have I ever been arrested? Well there was this one time. It's a pretty funny story. So my bestie is a Wicca. Yeah I don't exactly believe in that stuff. Well not like she does. I mean with all the crazy crap that has gone on in the world there's something obviously to any religion. But anyone who tells you they figured out the one true cosmological way they're fooling themself or trying to fool you. So yeah she's all up in that and it works for her. I don't the idea of answering to spirits and poo poo. Even the ones with the good wrap. So we're doing... I forget what it's called. But it's a real stereotype ritual. Dance skyclad in the woods around a fire stuff. Yeah basically her picture is on the Wicca entry on Urban Dictionary. She's probably the only one who pisses off their mom more than me. But it's fun and I don't have to wear stuffy church dresses so I'm on board. Really I just believe in reincarnation because energy can't be created or destroyed type stuff. So we're invoking uh... No it wasn't the Earth Mother or something she's too big of a deal. Well it's not important because we goofed it. A demon invades the summoning and bursts out of the fire. Embers and poo poo is flying everywhere. My friend, she grabs me and we run, she says we should split up so one of us can get help while the other keeps it busy. So we run opposite ways. I get to the edge of the forest and a torrential downpour starts. And then surprise surprise I run into local hero Melisa the Witch. Appaaaarently she was also in the forest doing her own ritual when we done hosed up. I start asking about my friend, hehe, just to gently caress with her. You see, she still doesn't know I figured it out. She really shouldn't have the same password for all her facebooks. Melisa get's all flustered and decides to citizen's arrest me for indecent exposure. Haha! I'll give her credit for thinking on her feet to think of an excuse. So she drags me to her lair and sticks me in her sealing circle to try to teach me a lesson. It's really fun screwing with her when she's trying to be so serious. But yeah we basically spent the night hanging out anyway, just repeatedly trying to own each other. I think she started having fun with it too." Nadia has a decent sense of her own limits for an aspiring megalomaniac. She seems to be completely reckless when confident, but expresses realistic goals and steps to work her way towards them. Nadia is extremely sensitive to criticism. Questioning her choices is deflected as an attack on her. She's particularly prickly and defensive on the subject of her skimpy fashion sense. SHY NUDIST GRRL fucked around with this message at 23:23 on May 15, 2016 |
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May 15, 2016 01:02
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  Copycat tosses a bouncing ball, but Jailbird doesn't chase after it; it just seems to always bounce under the cat's paw. El Cráneo saw to her invitation, but he wasn't here. Probably getting ready for his grudge match with Battlemaster, but still, it left her isolated. And so she talks and tries to meet and greet her fellow villains with a straightforward sincerity that doesn't quite fit the surroundings. It's almost like she showed up for the wrong meeting until she talks about stealing things. Who are you? Oh, you haven't heard...? I thought El Cráneo would have mentioned. I'm Copycat, sometimes thief, sometimes troubleshooter, sometimes troublestarter. Jailbird helps out, when he's in the mood. We're good at what we do. What can the Association do for you? I like living and staying free. As long as I can still go out and play, I'm pretty happy. I also like getting with a crew. Liberté, égalité, fraternité- well, two out of three at least, yeah? What can you do for the Association? I'm flexible. Anything somebody else can do, so can I. You need somebody who can go toe to toe with a Marvel? I can... mostly. Of course, better to not have to at all! But we're in the wrong business to have things go right? Get it? Okay, a little lame. But there's a future in the Association. Solo, you just end up in jail, but there's opportunities over time here, right? You can't always predict what you get out of it, but I'm sure I'll have some surprises for you. Experience is good. Baggage isn't. You sure you don't want to tell us anything before we start? Oh. Well. I wasn't sure how to bring this up, but... um... oh, geez, here goes: big fan. Making the Washington Monument into a rocket aimed at the White House for the bicentennial? The Atomic Think Tank? "Guy Fawkes Day, USA?" Classic! I'm honored to have you as an advisor. Completely. ... but you probably mean the time I teamed up with the All-New All-Stars, right? I just used them to help get Jailbird back when the Zookeeper snatched him up. We're not friends. Don't worry about it. Well, it certainly is quite the show, at least. Able to copy any manifestation of powers she's recently witnessed - specific manifestations, mind. If Johnny Burn throws out a flame bolt, that doesn't mean she can copy his explosive flight, for example. Just the bolts, until he takes off. Still, she takes out a little bit of everything that's come before her - lasers, demonic strength, a troublingly uncontrolled planar break - even though after only a few it's clearly beginning to wear on her. By the end, half the room and most of the robots are in ruins as she falls onto her back in a near-pratfall, grinning cheesily. Jailbird? She doesn't even bring up Jailbird's lucky bits. M.A.D.D. will have to work that out on their own. It's probably the first she's ever had a chance to copy so many powers in rapid succession, with a associated lack of control and exhaustion, mind. Of course, it's the cat's luck that keeps her mimicry within relatively safe parameters. Never too much loss of control, or more power than she can handle. Without it... there are risks. +Freak is a 7. As grids of lasers make flicker in and out, both Copycat and Shadowboxer flit across the arena, becoming shadow and then reforming in eyeblinks as each tries to land a hit. Shadowboxer is tough, but this is more anticipation of where each will reappear- and avoiding the laser beams. There's a moment as Shadowboxer flits, forming behind Copycat- - an then there's a searing flare as Copycat lights up in green, taking on Old Scratch's hue as she spots him on the observation deck. Shadowboxer is disrupted by the light, still half-shadow and half-person, and is still struggling to retain her form when a glowing green fist catches her in the face. A moment later, Copycat powers down, looking smug- before some the lasers catch her in her victory moment. Ow. She stumbles out of the ring, though, still on her feet. +Danger is an 8. Boy, Silver put Jailbird into fits, what with their probabilistic tug-of-war. Copycat, of course, doesn't know why- Jailbird is troublingly smart for a cat, but he doesn't chat. But that time-troubling was pretty handy, even if Copycat only got the chunk she witnessed, and it was useful to blue-shell one of the the lead racers. If nothing else, she's good at being the highest crab in the bucket of crabs. Of course, there was a little trouble getting through the Escher hall, having to say goodbye to breakfast before she left, but at least she made it through the implosive minefield at a full run without setting a single mine off. +Trouble is a 10. Knowing people and fan facts about villains is probably Copycat's high point - that's history. The others... well, she copies the mind-reading powers of Mind-E, at least until the telepathic cyborg realizes what's going on and reports it. Great. I might fill in some questions here, I might not! We'll see. +Superior is a 5. Copycat is a cool customer as she sits down crosslegged. After all, she doesn't have a lot of the villainous hangups. Not a psychopath. Not a megalomaniac. Not even that narcissistic. Well, okay. Maybe a little narcissistic. Mainly, though, her social life is relativly normal for somebody who doesn't have a school life. Friends, family, too many cats. Kind of worried about being a crazy cat lady, but- well. She couldn't just let all of Jailbirds' cellmates become strays, right? Her powers, though... well. There is the worry she doesn't have it to make it on her own. Maybe that's why she needs teammates? To ensure she has a library of powers to hack it with? No, no, she can make it through okay. Of course, there's that time that some of the Marvels was having it out with a villain downtown, and a piece of debris came off a skyscraper. It didn't kill her parents or her cat or even really hurt anybody, but it landed close enough that Copycat got full view of her mortality, thanks to a superhero. That's why she lives for herself. Sacrificing for a future that may never come? No. Live for the moment while you've still got ahold of it. It also gave a dim impression of superheroics at an early age. As for what Counter-Culture brings up about himself? Well, she doesn't tell. +Menace is 12.
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May 15, 2016 05:51
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 The sad fact is that this place is somehow even worse than I'd thought it'd be when I received their invitation in the mail. Mother had always spoken of how proud she was the day she first became a hero, the ceremonies and marble structures and general sense of an almost mythic significance. Instead of that though, this place has been like every Hollywood party I've ever been to, but crappier, and filled with teenage idiots going by names like Frogface. The food's barely even palatable - I mean, the single upside is that they were kind enough to sent a limo and valet to bring there to begin with! Finally though, after a few hours of tedium and bored Tweeting, a series of villains pour in all at once - most of who've I've heard about from my mother. Though my newfound hopes that this party will improved are dashed immediately, as it seems they'll be testing us. Which is absolutely galling, and if I hadn't been raised as well as I have been, I'd make a stink about it. How dare these people think that THEY are qualified to evaluate ME? More experienced or not, they've no right to treat me as if I'm somehow less than them in any way. Regardless, they seem intent on dividing us into groups, and its looks as if we're all being asked a series of questions by one of the higher ranked (another mistake) villains. I've ended up in Madame MODE's group it seems, and she speak-and-spells a few inquiries at all of us. Naturally, I answer first, as is my right as royalty. quote:"Who are you?" quote:"What can the Association do for you?" quote:"What can you do for the Association?" Plus, your cooperation ensures I don't, say, assist the Modern Marvels instead... I WILL be Queen, it's merely a matter of who helps me get there. Surely you'd want it to be your association? quote:"No, this just won't do. The name needs work. After all, you want to be a good super-villain, don't you? Please understand, it is no disrespect to your infantile desire to hold onto a meaningless legacy, it is only what's best for your public image. I am only looking out for you, girlfriend." After storming out for five minutes Sorry - I had low blood sugar, better now. If you insist I adopt some sort of stagename, perhaps Royal Rose? I rather like it, as it describes my situation perfectly, its alliterative, and it seems short enough for others to pronounce. I've even come up with a graphic design concept - I'm multi-talented - and can use my magic to demonstrate it to you. Observe...  ----------- And then a series of tests, which is actually sort of amusing despite it being so insulting. Every single day of my life has been a test, the teacher either my parents or public opinion. Whatever the Association has in store, it's not enough to stop me. The Freak Chamber goes fairly well from what I can tell. Not exactly the name of a place I'd ever expected to visit, but villains clearly do things differently than the heroes from mother's stories. At the minimum, I have impressive powers and I certainly showed them off as best I could. My sorcery derives from the combination of my Fae blood and my royal lineage - in many ways, I'm more Goddess than I am mortal. I can reshape reality with a thought, with a few select limitations*, and that's definitely an A-List power. I'm specifically good at Enchantments, binding oaths, reshaping one thing into another, and of course my Glamour. I can't do everything yet, and the more complicated the spell, the more likely it is to go awry or take a long time - but I can still make the universe obey my whims, which is yet more evidence of my divine right to rule. I'm also telepathic, though I developed that ability myself - mother was horrified by it. I can shut it off, of course, but yes - though they did a bad job of testing it because holograms can't think, and that's what a lot of the tests involved. Reading thoughts, speaking privately with others in the room, editing memories... it's a useful ability, and one I like to keep secret thank you very much. *Melody's magic requires that she be able to both speak and gesture, functions poorly against Cold Iron and individuals that are blessed or cursed, and has some strange exemptions and restrictions based on ancient oaths or betrayals. While she knows all those limitations, she doesn't know it's also heavily linked to her self-confidence. Get her doubting herself or her place in the universe (at its center), and her magical abilities start to desert her. <Krysmbot> Rauri, 7+1 = 8 The next area is somehow even worse. I'm supposed to fight one of these common thugs?! It's practically unthinkable, but I do my best all the same. I get matched up against a snobby nerd named Holograftic, who - from having spoken to her while we were kept waiting earlier - has delusions of adequacy matched only by her greed. And trust me... my performance would have made my Mother proud, if she'd have seen it - not that I care about her approval, but still. The battlefield was littered with hiding places, swinging panels, and other means of preventing me from just blasting my foe with magic, yet I truimphed anyways. See, Holograftic tried to overwhelm me with those petty technological illusions of hers, but I've practiced against better. Using my telepathy to lock onto the real her, I dodged her attacks for a bit while I wore her mental defenses down, and then I pushed the idea into her head that, you know, turning her techsuit off sure would be a great idea. Brilliant, even. So she did. Once I could actually see her, things got easy - I just incanted a spell and transmuted her coat into chains. It's a flawless victory for a flawless combatant, if you want a headline. <Krysmbot> Rauri, 11 = 11 All I can say is the other teens in Y.U.M.A.D.D. are petty, spiteful children. It's the only way to explain this section, it's all their fault. That, and, well, asking someone like me to do lots of physical exercise on some sort of demented obstacle course is ridiculously unfair. That's for the common riffraff, not people like me! I'm not used to running, I can levitate! Especially with Silver hindering me, Hartonn competing with me, and that loving bitch Nadia calling me curvy in a way that suggested I'm fat right in the middle of the competition, it's no wonder I did poorly. Fine - if you must know, I was matched up with Hartonn, who's simply ridiculous. As if him being some conceited braggart from a faraway place gives him the right to speak to me the way he did, as if he's better than me. It was galling, but it didn't help that he DID do better than me, on account of him being some sort of alien musclebound bruiser. And not only did he show me up, but I ended up falling into a pit full of orange juice - thanks to some weird time power, getting clobbered in the face by one of those padded mechanical arms, and even nailed by a giant waterbaloon when I lept the one hurdle on the track. I intend to buy the Trouble Run from M.A.D.D. one day, after I've reclaimed Avalon - and when I do, I'm setting the whole drat thing on fire. <Krysmbot> Rauri, 6-1 = 5 After my... less than stellar performance in the Trouble Run, I was determined to make things up here. Luckily I'm so brilliant and well-prepared for all of this, by virtue of having a mother that was on the opposite side of this coin teaching me everything she knows since I was little along with being genetically perfect and naturally brilliant. Plus I can cheat and use my telepathy to see what the othe super-smarties in the class think. These questions were a breeze, and I'm pretty sure I got the top score! The only subject I'm less than perfect at is Maniacal Maths, which is only because servants and accountants exist for that sort of thing, really it'd be beneath me to have ace'd that section like I did the others. Hardcore History is easy since Mother's personally introduced me to or talked about like half of the people we're asked about, while Torturous Thinking is easy because I'm simply so much more brilliant than the average person due to my royal blood. I even got questions I know my mother would've missed. For example, "Duke Dastardly has been breaking M.A.D.D. rules and is trying to bribe you to not report him for it. Do you take his offer or turn him in?" The correct answer per M.A.D.D. policy isn't actually either of those, it's both of them - you take the money, then turn him in anyways. So long as you hide the money, you're good. And... I got a question on my exam that I suspect may have only been for me. "What's the best strategy for defeating Druidess while outmatched?" It's... there's a part of me, a painfully mortal part of me, that didn't want to answer it. She's my mom. But... the rest of me wrote the right answer in, since I knew it and I wanted to get the top score. "Feign weakness, and attack her when she tries to offer aid." <Krysmbot> Rauri, 10+3 = 13 <Krysmbot> Rauri, 7 = 7 Really? Ending with a visit to a psychotic psychologist? Mother's introduction into the Modern Marvels ended with fireworks, not this insanity. Don't get me wrong, I've dealt with psychologists before - courtesy mother, of course. Counter Culture's a lot more aggressive than the rest, sure, but I can handle him. For the most part, I manage to hold my own. He tries to get me riled up about some of the other villains in Y.U.M.A.D.D. that unwisely picked on me, over paparazzi that have notoriously hounded me and taken unflattering pictures, about Pagan's declarations about my mother and the Fair Folk of Avalon being traitors and sellouts. And they don't bother me, really. I don't take most grievances against me personally, even if you'd think I would. It's... I understand that sometimes, things are just business, just how the world works. I don't actually get that mad, and I try to make sure to not be too aggressive in most of my dealings. Pretty sure if anyone on our team tortures a hostage or kills somebody, you can go ahead and immediately clear me as a suspect. Bloodshed and vendettas are simply too much effort, and other people aren't worth it. But... even though I manage the first half of things pretty well, I start to fall apart when he changes up his tactics. Asking why I've shown off the way I have, why I pushed so hard to go by my own name instead of adopting a cover identity like Royal Rose, why I care so much that everyone think I'm as amazing as I am. I falter, basically. It's... I'm just so used to people not questioning it. I'm Melody, I'm the best - I'm perfect, I'm the pinnacle of creation. I have to be. Do you know how many opportunities I've been given? They got pointed out to me. Healthy, rich, royal, magical bloodline, famous and connected parents, individual tutoring by a great hero. I got kicked out of home by my mother and yet still have billions to draw upon when I feel like it. I had a hard time coming up with a reason for my, as he put it, "delusional narcissism." <If you tell anyone this... I'll kill you. I didn't say I ALWAYS avoid bloodshed, just usually. But... yeah, a few weeks ago, I called Mother up. I had to do it from the Avalonian embassy, since she's blocked my number and taken me off her cellphone plan. And, well, I... I begged her to let me come home. I cried, and apologized for mistreating the servants, and said I'd learned my lesson (I haven't but I wanted to go home), but she didn't care. She said she didn't believe me, and that I'm still banished, and that the Avalonian Parliament is meeting soon to pass a law to determine the new heir to the crown now that I'm disinherited. I wept for two days straight after that talk, I ate a tub of mint chocolate Ice Cream, and I made my call to M.A.D.D. to join up after I slept that off.> Rauri fucked around with this message at 08:36 on May 16, 2016 |
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May 16, 2016 05:06
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  So, here I am at the M.A.D.D, what, Youth Outreach Villainy Center Of Excellence or whatever the gently caress and all that's going through my mind is that I seriously have trouble keeping my poo poo together. No, not because I am excited I'm here or concerned about being surrounded by some serious supervillain heavy hitters, but because I willingly went with some goons that lead me to an undisclosed location, then I let them put me in a room which now turns out has no loving exit and the minutes keep dragging on and goddamn on. Which, given recent events with those black ops fuckers, calls up some real unpleasant memories. Of not being able to get out. Nobody to feed on. The hunger. That loving pit of hunger that made me eventually lose myself out and... change yet again. Okay. Deep breaths. It's not so bad. This is not like back then. Still. Think if I were still a normal girl – hah! - I'd be sweating bullets right now, rubbing my hands and looking around like my scheduled fix is long overdue. As it is, I just look around the room and try not to shake – and convince myself this is nothing like back then. Right. And it is not. There are people here with me. And right now, I don't mean that in the 'fate shared' sense, but in the sense that if I had to, I could...use one of them to calm me down. Make them terrified. Because I can tell, a lot of them are as anchorless as me. Not that I'm going to do anything. But I could, and it helps. So, how did I get here? Yeah, best if I distract myself by thinking about that. So I was getting my feet wet with some solo villain stuff when I ran into Mob Star – he's an established M.A.D.D villain and it seemed we had the same target: a SOURCE overland transport. Mob Star's gimmick is being some sort of italian mobster / Frank Sinatra-esque singer guy, including literal gorillas in suits as muscle as well as musical backup. Though they only do clapping and snapping fingers. Anyway. To make a long story short, tensions were initially a bit high, what with questions of who gets what and all that and it looked like we were going to throw down. Which is when everything went to hell with a SOURCE strike force arriving and what I assume was some sort of killer robot in the transport being activated – and, all right, it was a bit of a clusterfuck, but me and Mob Star ended up fighting side by side. We barely got out of there, Mob Star tells me he 'likes my moxie' – which is both cheesy and kind of awesome - we have a talk about the advantages of signing up with M.A.D.D and yeah, that's how I ended up here. No sooner have I finished that thought do I notice a door finally – finally! - opening and someone walking inside. Wait, is that Old Scratch and Bouncing Betty? Well, she's wearing one of her iconic kick-rear end bomber jackets, but she's a bit...uh... well, my mental picture of her is a little different. Or just out of date, now that I think about when she was active. Eventually, I'm lead to a separate room to apparently have what I can only guess is some sort of... job interview with Old Scratch, which is a bright spot in this loving weird situation. Because that guy, I like his style. I mean, if it were some sort of new villain, I'd say 'try-hard', but then, who am I to talk. With my chosen look and my chosen moniker. Old Scratch looks down at me with some mixture of being relaxed while still aiming to dominate the room, and if this was another situation, I'd get up and lean against the wall myself – but, patience. Control. It helps that I respect his apparent no nonsense attitude and not being yelled at about some delusional nonsense. quote:Who are you? "I'm Blackguard." I give it a thin smile. "Works best with the armor." quote:What can the Association do for you? I briefly forget I'm talking to actual, in the flesh – well, kind of – Old Scratch and lean forward. "And I hear you got some kind of hardened smart phone that's able to survive fighting with superheroes? Because let me tell you, my poo poo got wrecked when I went up against..." Uh. Right. I lean back again and once again affect being professional. "Health benefits. Career opportunities if things don't work out." quote:What can you do for the Association? Old Scratch seems to be considering – or maybe this is just the end of the prepackaged questions, because those seemed like they were just items on a check list. quote:Saw the other side, did you? Been there, done that. You shouldn't let it think it makes you any more special for it, kid. quote:Question is, are you gonna be coming back if it happens again? Do I tell him? gently caress. Already went this far. "When I was...under, I met, well, who you're supposed to meet. No scythe, but..." I recover my bravado, my cool, lean back. "We have an arrangement." Which is at least... somewhat misleading. Because it implies that I didn't have to fight my way out, figuratively speaking – or whatever the gently caress actually went on back then. In any case, best not tell the guy that by all accounts has connections with 'the Other Side' that someone over there very much would like to... collect on me. quote:One more thing... I know about the Triad, but you're going to have to hit on all sixes and impress like hell to get me to talk anything about it. "Not to be a cliche, but... you have my attention. And well. I'll see about trying to impress you." Not going to say the 'unless this is you hitting on me' remark that just went through my mind. "Ah, yes, marvellous, marvellous, albeit a bit... well, how to put it, Mr. Mind?" Dr. Heart's voice is distorted coming through whatever PA system they're using for the Freak Chamber. I'm pretty sure I can guess what his problem is – the demonstration of my powers until now has consisted of me pummelling the poo poo out of a series of increasingly tough stuff, busting through walls, throwing poo poo, shrugging off poo poo thrown at me and jumping with force at the ceiling of the Freak Chamber and grabbing onto it. In short, all sorts of physical stuff, which no doubt is the problem. "We're thinking this sort of demonstration is more suited for our esteemed colleagues, like Old Scratch or Bouncing Betty, fascinating as it may be." Yeah. Figured. He... well, they – what's the right way to talk about them? Him? - want to see freaky poo poo. And apparently me having outlandish strength, agility and toughness isn't freaky enough. Okay then. I roll my shoulders – though I'm pretty sure he's not watching that. "I'll need a volunteer down here." "I can generate a hologram if you would like to demonstrate some sort of..." "No. A person." I pause. "I work with people." Can he tell that's kind of a joke? I mean, my dead pan delivery is good since... that day, maybe sometimes too good. Some sort of, I guess, evil interns are sent in and... I can feel their anxiety. This is irregular for them. The three of them don't want to be here. I can sense, almost smell just the hint of fear. Good. This will make this easier. The room is configured to have walls, corners, dark spots. Me and the interns are at opposing sides of the room, far away. Okay, so, how to explain this? You ever watched a horror movie? Sure you have. Maybe one with a big-rear end motherfucker that's hiding his face behind a mask or a helmet or something like that? Ever notice how they can sneak up on people even though that makes no sense, because you'd hear them coming? Or how they always show up behind a corner, or right behind some unlucky teenager from off-screen, even though if you think about it, it should be impossible? Yeah. If I push myself, I can basically do that, among other things. If it's because of my fear thing or because I decided to put on a big-rear end armor, I'm not sure. The making no sound part is 'always on' – it's why me wearing this armor isn't a problem – but that other stuff, well, turning my surrounding into the horror movie logic zone is... difficult. Anyway. Let's give this a try. They're staring at me. I'm staring at them. Are the shadows deepening around me? The trick is to... give in to the irrationality of it, which is why I think I have problems with it. The three of them suddenly turn their heads to the right – yeah, this is how it goes, they think they heard a sound and turn away from the thing stalking them for just a second – and now I just... reappear right in front of them, having covered an impossible distance for the time they looked away. Just close my eyes and push it and... oh what the gently caress? Where the gently caress did I end up? I'm in some sort of closet and – goddamnit! I kick open the door and... I've ended up in the men's restroom. "gently caress!" How the hell do I get back to the Freak Chamber? Does this place have a map? Now these assholes are staring and loving god damnit. <nil_> Roll Freak <nil_> !r 2d6 <Krysmbot> nil_, 3 = 3 _____________ Back at the Freak Chamber the interns are looking at each other, slightly freaked out after the test subject seems to have disappeared when all of them had looked away for just a second. "Uh." "drat. Did we do that?" "Did this stupid thing malfunction and swallow the applicant again?!" "Should we report this?" "Dr. Heart and Mr. Mind will have our head! We can deal with this... on our own." "Man, I don't know, I'm kind of freaking out!" "Get a hold of yourself! Nobody needs to know, just keep quiet and... keep cool." "We should split up, we can cover more ground." The interns hesitate for second, as if something wasn't making sense – then they push it away. "Good idea. I'll check the morgue." "Yeah, I'll go to the Failed Experiment storage lab." "Right. I'll search the abandoned High School training ground." Blackguard can have 'powers' like a Horror movie villain – what she doesn't know is that she can also make her surroundings and people around her behave according to horror movie logic. Okay, after that whole thing in the Freak Chamber, I'm ready for something I'm better at. Or really, ready for something where I get to take out the feeling inside my gut, the churning in my mind on somebody else. Something straightforward. 'Friendly' brawl? Sounds like just the ticket. But if I'm honest, the anxiety inside me I'm going to be loving clearing out of my head with each blow, whether it's me landing it or my counterpart, it's not from loving up my powers or anything like that. It's from being locked up in that waiting room and what Old Scratch said about The Triad. He has to mean those black ops assholes that made me like this, right? Right. I know he's watching. Old Scratch. But, can't think of that - and you know what? It's not that difficult. With the black squares slowly rising out of the ground of the Danger Room and me and my opponent - some guy called Bad Badger, what? - eyeing each other, there's an energy in the air, an anticipation, like it's High Noon. Okay, yeah, I may have my hand unnecessarily hovering over my hip right now. Though really, whether in my mind I'm about to draw a sixshooter or a sword, I'm not sure. Right. Focus. Take a look, a real look at my opponent. Stare him down. Because yeah, even though I'm wearing a loving black armor and a face concealing helmet, people can tell when I'm staring. They know. Bad Badger. Needs his rear end kicked for that name alone. He's built and wearing some kind of spandex suit with what I guess are supposed to be badger markings, which tells me gently caress all about what he can do. Whatever. Somehow I know Old Scratch is going to start the fight in just a few seconds - just this itching at the back of my neck - and I squat slightly, get ready, make my armored hands into upturned claws. I would loving love to play this arrogant, confident, cross my arms and just make him come at me - but who knows, maybe while I'm playing it Vader he's actually going to turn my brian into mush with some psychic bullshit? No. He's going down. I'll keep the pressure on. Keep the initiative. And then... beat the poo poo out of him. You know. A bit, until I win. An actual bell rings. Should have figured, with Old Scratch's whole thing. And it's on. I know I'm still thinking, but my conscious thoughts take.. a sidestep. I am running, sprinting forward - and then, still far away from bad Badger, I lunge, launch myself through the air with impossible force and towards my prey, like I was launched from a cannon. Yeah, think people usually think I can't do poo poo like that, with the armor and all, but, well, what they don't know is this: the armor is just for show. I could do all of this stuff naked - this strength is in my flesh. Credit to Bad Badger, he sees me coming and dodges to the side and I miss him, smashing into where he stood a second ago and leaving several cracks in the ground. The momentum of the jump hurtles me forward - I don't control mass and poo poo, after all - and I manage to keep running and not trip over like some idiot. He's to my left and I lean left, like I'm some runaway motorcycle, and I slam down my armored left hand, dragging it on the ground, helping me take the corner at this speed. Sparks from whatever the ground is made of fly onto my visor. I manage to get him in my sight and just body check him, making him fly off to crash into one of the black blocks. Man, I wish there was some dust around, this would make this way more awesome! And yes. Yes, I am enjoying this. The... simplicity of it. I'm about to take another run at him when - what? Is that water? They're flooding the Danger Room? I'm trying to jump out of it, but I'm too slow, and Bad Badger is, what, jumping between the black blocks like some sort of animal. Do badgers do that? poo poo, focus. He's returning my favor and launches himself at me, and with my legs now in water up to my knees, I can't doge him in time - he knocks into me with his legs with more force that I thought that rear end in a top hat had and fuuuuck. I stumble, slip, fall and the next thing I know is that I'm underwater and right that moment, I have forgotten whether these things are to the death or not. The water is closing in on me and old reflexes are telling me that in a few seconds, I'll have trouble breathing and... and what the gently caress am I thinking? I'm not scared of any of that. I burst out of the water - Bad Badger is waiting on one of the platforms and I simply grab his ankle and drag him towards me, kicking and screaming, push him under the water. "Come here!" Try to get him into a armlock - and when he doesn't comply, pull up his head for just long enough from out of the water to hit him in the face, then down he goes again. Repeat until he's... compliant, and perhaps a few seconds after that. When he is no longer resisting, I release him, or rather, just pull him up, hold him up by the throat - like a trophy, for all to see. In a way, that's what it feels like. And don't worry, he's still breathing. <nil_> Roll Danger <nil_> !r 2d6+3 <Krysmbot> nil_, 6+3 = 9 I'm still feeling pretty great from my victory during the prep for the Trouble Track - and yeah, it was a loving victory, small one, sure, but something that deserves that word. A small voice in the back of my head tells me that I shouldn't enjoy it too much, because someone whose only thought and desire and urge is just one singular point - that rush, joy, control of fighting, of victory... well, that person just becomes a thing. And I'm not loving giving up, what, being a person. Right. Calm down. Focus on what's next. Trouble Track. Actually, I get to talking with some of my fellow 'peers' - and it may be that I do that because, after all, a ravaging monster wouldn't do relatively calm small-talk with others, right? I brush off some idiot who I can just tell is about to expound, in detail, on how the world works according to his delusions and instead chat with Dark Eagle. Pretty cool armor, though people might think if we work side by side we're going for some kind of themed thing. Whatever. I actually open my helmet's visor - what can I say, I'm feeling social - which confirms that, yes, under all that armor, I'm actually a girl. You wouldn't believe how many people get confused, I assume because I didn't chose to have tits moulded onto my armor as a handy signifier of 'hey, lady under all this poo poo!' - so, obviously, default assumption is 'scary asskicker with no immediate stereotypical feminine signifiers, gotta be a dude!'. Oh, who am I kidding, that's at least part of why I did it. It's funny, in an extended middle finger way. Anyway, Dark Eagle seems all right, not as... high strung as a lot of people around here, seems to have her poo poo together. Though, who knows. People think I have my poo poo together, and, well... occasionally. Seems she'll be able to keep her eyes on the ball, so to speak, though I'm not so sure if that'll mean just her ball or, uh, everyone else's ball too and... gently caress, this metaphor? Analogy? It sucks. Point is, the Trouble Track seems to at least a bit be a team thing, and we'll see how much of a team player she is. Well. Turns out we're both kind of doing the team player thing, only it ends up a good bit more antagonistic than you'd really want to put on a motivational poster. But, I mean, what the gently caress? She can fly. And I can't. Which is not the problem in of itself, but it pisses me off when she's telling me I'm doing it wrong, that I need to need my head more. Yeah, well, real easy to say when you're flying above the loving crushers I somehow am supposed to figure out, and not by smashing the poo poo out of them. My one attempt to take to the air doesn't do much to improve my mood - since I don't have wings, I have to jump, and if you jump, you can't change course... so I just smash into the gigantic flat baseball bat that sprung out of the wall as soon as I left the ground, and ends with me bouncing off it, falling to the ground and... is that a pool of loving acid? Who the hell designed this place? What kind of real world scenario is this testing? Me fighting some sort of, what, superpowered Dungeons and Dragons game master or whatever the gently caress? ...wait, that could actually happen. Now there's some bullshit labyrinth, and I'm not making any progress and you know what? gently caress it. If they want to test me going through this course, they'll have to deal with me going through this course my way. I'm feeling angry, and I'm not exactly sure why that is, but I can think about this later. Right now, I just take off and loving smash through the walls of this labyrinth, and I feel like every wall crumbling beneath me, shooting out debris and clouds of dust, brings me closer to victory. I should have done this from the beginning! Besides, the other guys can just follow in my wake. Now that's loving teamwork. Hah! I don't know how long it took, time flies when you send poo poo flying - but I actually did it! I reached the finishing line and nobody else is in sight. First place. I raise my arms in triumph. Yeah! Though I don't know what is better, the feeling of getting first place or that I got to smash this goddamn Trouble Track in the process. You know what? Smashing was the better part. Wait. Uh. I actually start... thinking again, taking stock of my surroundings. How would I have come in before really everyone? And then it hits me: this is the starting line. gently caress. Fuuuuck. Right. I run my armored hand over my helmet. All that anger from earlier is gone and now, somehow, I almost have to laugh at myself. Saying I have nobody to blame but myself would be overselling it but that's what I'm thinking right now. I start trotting back towards the actual goal, following my trail of destruction. I feel oddly calm, amused - not like I'm going to get anything but last place now. Although, you know what? Maybe someone else was as big of an idiot as me. Yeah, sure. Real good pep talk. I start running again. <nil_> Roll Trouble <nil_> !r 2d6 <Krysmbot> nil_, 6 = 6 Talk about ups and downs. The Superior Hall - who picks these names? - is like some high end, I don't know, university/conference center thing, which is seriously weird after that whole episode of trashing a good bit of the Trouble Track. But maybe the bizarre change actually helps calming me down, my brain forced to shift gears and concentrate on something other than what happened, namely, some actual written test in front of me. Right. Doing this now. I bitched about the Trouble Track not being 'true to life' but really, how is that different from this? Well, it's different in school having taught us that written tests are the thing to do. Whatever. Hardcore History. Christ. Sure, I know a few of the big names and dates, but really? This is really narcissistic and petty, do I really need to know all this? And then, again, I actually think, consider who is making me take this test, what kind of people I am surrounded by - and of course it's narcissistic and petty. Still. Doesn't mean I'm all that confident in a good part of my answers. Maniacal maths is half-and-half, because on the one hand: seriously, finance? Just the maths parts are all right, at least. On the other hand, think I did pretty okay on word problems. Torturous Thinking is where I shine. Even though I wouldn't say I'm some sort of genius or ex-whatever military badass, you can actually just answer most of the questions by... thinking clearly. Pushing ego aside. Which is a lot easier when you have enough time to think like this, but still. And I guess I use some of the stuff I saw on TV or in movies for inspiration - of course my ventilation shafts in my secret base would look like they are large enough to crawl through, but would actually grow narrower and narrower, until whoever decided to try the oldest one in the book is stuck. Now Sinister Science... I do fine on the parts that have nothing to do with any magical or quantum-whatever bullshit, and those parts I would normally be garbage at. But. But it turns out that scrawny ren-faire-looking guy with the fake white beard from earlier, before the test, he gave me all the answers on an actual little scroll. Didn't have any idea what he was about back then - but it seems he thought I was going to beat him up if he didn't help me out. Now the sweating makes a lot more sense too. I mean, I did corner him, stare him down, but that was just... instinct. Nothing on my mind back then other than the fact that he looked at me with fear and I just, well, had to push it. Not too much. I can behave. Okay, now what is this? 'How many nuclear warheads do you need to eradicate London?' I know that one. Trick question. Or really, it depends on what type of atomic warheads you're using, and no, I don't mean that it needs to be big enough. You see, in the 70ies and 80ies, getting your own nuclear warhead for your villainous island or whatever was all the rage, like, it made you legit. Of course, letting seriously unstable and delusional madmen all have a real nuclear warhead made both the 'good guys' and the not-actually-bonkers 'bad guys' a little nervous, so they had a conference that had been secret until a few years ago. Using some sort of... nuclear superman ascendancy poo poo, I think there was magic too, they made, uh, atomic warheads that to every test known to man looked like the real deal, only they would just produce a normal explosion, little radioactivity, nothing of the real nasty poo poo. And most of those 'fake' warheads found their way into the hands of ambitious supervillains. They could all feel like they were in the Big Boys club, superheroes could come over to beat them up, recapture the warhead which, after a bit, somehow ended up with yet another villain. Kind of like handing a prop gun to a blind gun nut, or something - everyone is happy, nobody gets hurt. So, yeah. Trick question. Because it depends on what kind of nuclear warhead you're dealing with. And I sure as poo poo don't actually want to eradicate London. Would like to visit someday soon, actually. <nil_> Roll Superior <nil_> !r 2d6-1 <Krysmbot> nil_, 11-1 = 10 I wish Counter-Culture would stop smiling at me with that spaced-out look, like he has all the time in the world to wait for me to say something. Eventually, it's him that speaks up. "You know, man, most of the other dudes here would have already told me something. Like, shared some things about themselves, what they think about stuff. You should try it to." He leans back and brushes back his hair. "But it's cool if you're not." I stare at him. "Yes." "You seem tense." He consults some clipboard - do they not have something from this century or what? "During the other tests you were so lively. But now, man, you're so defensive and it's really harshing my vibe, because, I can't help but think, whoa, is it because of me?" He looks me in the eyes, his own twinkling. "Is it?" "I know you have mind reading powers. Now. I think most people think that'd be perfect for psychology. Analysis. Clinical psychology." I look at him, unblinking, kneading my knuckles. "Whoa, hey, I can understand that." Then, he looks around the room as if our conversation is finished and he's looking for something to eat, or light up, or whatever. Suddenly, he turns back to me. "You interested in psychology, man? It's cool, it's like the final frontier is our minds." If I wasn't so on edge I would find this guy massively annoying, but as it is, I have to keep myself from doing... something. Either throwing something or running out of the room, I don't know which. "Yes. I am interested. Was. Before all this." He smiles, with the benevolence of a stoned pope. "Before you died?" I don't answer, don't think and just... stare, though the aggressive fire in my eyes has vanished. Counter-Culture continues. "It's real heavy man, and with someone like you, all those gears in your head turning and twisting..." He illustrates with one finger pointed at me, twirling. "I can tell. You move it back and forth, and back again, and each time, like, you dust it off, and look at it." He smiles that smile of his. "Lot of people would just let a thing like that stay behind a locked door, let it get covered in dust, you know what I am saying? Would rather look anywhere else, turn those little gears turning on figuring out anybody else." I can't help but nod - I don't want to give him am inch, but at the same time, I already know he knows he's right. "I hear you like to 'get into people's head' too. Though really, man, that just gives people like us, that just want to help, a bad name, man." He looks at me, like he doesn't have a care on the world, his eyes behind those loving 3D glasses of his. I want to beat his loving head in and I want to tell him he's right and I want to break down and I want to tell him to go gently caress himself and run away. "Sometimes feeling helpless is just part of the process, you know, 'have to face the truth' type of stuff. You understand that, right?" He doesn't stop. This should be me. Relentless. Pushing forward. Taking someone apart, either through force or words. But I can just sit there. "So." Did he just... did he just use one of my verbal tics? "What does make you feel helpless?" And there it is, the question. The thing, well, one of the things I have to push away, one of the things I couldn't leave behind even though I pretend I took up this, what, path of ultimate loving liberty, no strings on me, all that poo poo. Well, I can't leave myself behind. "Me. What I could be." Wait, did I seriously just say that out loud? "What I could become, if I don't control this... pull and push of what I want to do, and what I still want to be. A person. And..." What. What the gently caress am I doing? My head jerks up and my eyes lock onto Counter-Culture, and for a moment, they burn with cold anger. "Are you making me say this?" He smiles, always smiling. "Are you sharing things you're not comfortable with? Because I don't want th-" "Are you making me do this?" My hands are fist. My knuckles itch. "Get out of my head, Charles!" If I wasn't so loving out of it, I would notice that for once, his air of benevolent detachment vanishes for just a moment at that name - why did I think of that? Something... that loving music playing? And just as quickly, he leans back again, relaxed again. "Charles isn't my name, baby. Never was, never has been." But the atmosphere in the room has changed and now we're both uncomfortable, though I'm not going to lie, I'm the one more rattled. "Why don't we continue this another time, okay, man? I'm kinda beat. Been real interesting meeting you." <nil_> Roll Menace <nil_> !r 2d6+1 <Krysmbot> nil_, 4+1 = 5 nil. fucked around with this message at 20:37 on May 18, 2016 |
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May 16, 2016 20:27
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Prologue: Black Sky's the Limit I'd been chewing on the idea of looking for MADD for a while. The last fight I'd got into had been the hardest yet - it was partly because I'd gone in at night, with my birds sleepy and half-blind in the dark, but mostly because I seriously underestimated the opposition. I managed to burn that rear end in a top hat loan shark out of his office, but his security guys gave me a hell of a fight. I made the mistake of trying to get them angry - normally it makes people make stupid mistakes, but sometimes it just makes them hit faster and harder. I thought I was lucky to get away with only a nightstick to the head, but I collapsed a few hours later while I was talking to Maya over video chat. Three shot-glasses worth of blood drained from my head later, I was lying on a hospital bed feeling sorry for myself and wishing I'd had backup when a strangely faceless doctor dropped a card onto my table and left before I could ask any questions. Two weeks later, I'm deep in the desert, looking at an aged wartime pinup across an anonymous desk in an interview room that could have come out of any corporate office in the city. All I can do is hope I'm ready. quote:"Who are you?" quote:
quote:"What can you do for the Association?" quote:Dark Eagle: "You know what? You're alright." There's a lingering pause on that, as if she was going to leave it at that, but she didn't. "Just remember, you gotta have fun with it too. Else you're just going to burn right out. Don't forget who you are, but don't forget what it is you do either." But it's what she says next that lifts my spirits more than any old poster. As she says 'gotta have fun', a grin spreads across my face, while my brain struggles to keep up. Because I've finally found a place where I don't have to hide that smile any more, where I don't need to have a costume that conceals my face. "What makes you think I'm not having fun? The stuff I can do... nothing comes close to that feeling. You know that look people get, when they realize they've got a few seconds before everything they thought they could rely on blows up in their face?" I hold her gaze, and my grin. "That's why I could never have been a hero." Freak: 2d6+1 8 I'd been wondering why Betty smiled when I said I wanted to demonstrate my powers. I only realize as I step into the room that that'll be easier said than done. "So. You can control the emotions of others. Is that correct?" I'm being talked to by a heart in a suit. It takes me a second to collect myself. "It feels more like pushing their emotions in certain directions than controlling them per se. Happiness, sadness, anger, fear, surprise, disgust... those are the basic ones. More complex emotions take a bit more effort. It's always easier to amplify existing emotions than to force them to appear from scratch, of course." "Of course. I assume the effect is inversely proportional to the number of people you are trying to affect?" They think they've got me figured out, haven't they? I let myself smile briefly. "In theory. But pushing a single person's emotions too far in one direction can have unfortunate consequences. They start to perceive the emotion as originating from outside their own mind, which tends to make people... freak out a bit." It's not a bad way to shut somebody down, but it's hard to do to more than one person at once. "That is understandable. You are describing one of Schneider's first-rank symptoms of schizophrenia." "Uh... sure. But if I give everyone in a group of people a small push at the same time, they end up reinforcing each other. Mob psychology, I guess." I probably shouldn't throw terms like that around when I'm talking to a literal brain. They don't ask any more questions for the time being, but their creepy porters bring out a set of more literal brains, in jars this time. They watch as I try to shift the emotions of each brain in turn, which is honestly pretty difficult when there's no facial expressions or body language to use to judge if it's working. As I finish up with the last brain, I look over at Mr Mind and do my best to turn his own impressed up a few levels. I've got no idea if it works or not. When the brains have been cleared away, they start up with the questions again. This time, it's Mr Mind. "So... the birds. Your signature. Is that the same power?" And there it is, the million-dollar question. "It might be? I'm not sure. I can control birds outright, which I can't do to humans. I think it's because their brains are simple and they have this built-instinct to flock together, which might be that mob effect I mentioned earlier?" Not Sundown, though. I'd never control her. "Other animals?" "Stuff like dogs, cats, ferrets? No problem. Swarms of mammals aren't really a thing... I've never tried on, say, a herd of sheep. Reptiles don't flock or swarm, and invertebrates are too simple." I've never tried octopuses, but I don't imagine that's going to come up too much. "Honestly, I don't think about the mechanics of my powers too often. It's all intuitive." [There you have your mystery. Are Dark Eagle's two abilities both facets of a more basic ability to control minds? Is she subconsciously limiting her powers when using them on humans? After all, simply dominating weaker minds isn't what a self-described liberator of people would do, is it?] They mutter to each other for a bit, then Dr Heart turns back to me. "I am afraid this aspect of your abilities will be rather harder to demonstrate. Perhaps a simulation - " I shake my head. It won't work on virtual birds. I'm certain about that. Time for me to make an exit. "Thank you for your time." I nod at each of them in turn. "Bill!" A panel opens in the featureless wall, and one of the valets steps in, looking confused. I smile as he offers me his hand to help me through the hole. It always pays to check everyone's name badge when you can, and it pays even more to lay a little subconscious groundwork in case you need an ace up your sleeve later. I can't see the duo's faces back in the testing chamber, but I wouldn't be able to puzzle out their expressions anyway. I can tell the next room is a combat set up from the minute I step through the door. It's the way Old Scratch has positioned himself relative to that black square, the way that girl is making a show of limbering up across the ring. I step up to my side of the arena and take a moment to get my bearings. The black square is firm but not solid, like gym mats. There's a convenient perch for Sundown extending from the wall behind me. And that's it. A fair fight, then... which means an unfair fight as far as I'm concerned, and not in my favor. I've always done my best to avoid slugging things out one-on-one, and I know my powers don't lend themselves to combat nearly as well as some people's do. Which brings me to my opponent. Her name's Dragon Lotus, if I remember correctly from registration. A smug, lanky white girl in a Chinese dress with a straight sword on her back. She's lucky I've got more important evils to deal with than cultural appropriation. But she looks confident. Maybe I can play on that. "You sure you need that sword? Doesn't really seem fair, does it?" I push confusion and pride at the same time. "Wouldn't be very honorable, against me with my fists and nothing else." She looks at me for a second, then sticks it into the ground. "That's better," I say in an even tone, "but how do I know you won't be tempted if things go badly for you?" I push pride even further. "Why don't you give it to the referee." She gives me an even longer look, then hands the sword to Old Scratch. It's hard to tell, but I think he's amused. Dragon Lotus gives me a short bow, then leaps into battle. A short exchange of blows later and I'm very glad I made her put the sword away. She's clearly spent her whole life training in martial arts. I can block or dodge most of her blows, but not all of them, and even then it's mostly because she's more intent on showing off than taking me out. But I can use that. The next time I see her pivot for another ridiculous spinning kick I make an awkward, risky lunge and catch her in the stomach. I see her eyes widen in surprise... and I push that surprise as hard as I can, leaving her standing like a deer in headlights. I savor the expression for a second, then throw my hardest punch straight at her face. She's a lot more cautious after that, though, and though I push anger as hard as I can I can't get her to slip up. The fight is going nowhere, which is doubly bad because not only am I getting too tired to keep trading hits, it's making us both look boring. Was that why they gave us such a simple arena? To try and trick us into wasting our talents? Dragon Lotus obviously has the same thought because she suddenly leaps backwards... and starts breathing fire. poo poo. I fling myself to the ground as a gout of flame goes over my head, singeing my hair. Old Scratch makes a gesture and a few low walls pop out of the ground, but the cover is minimal at best. Well, if that's how she's going to play it... I call Sundown over and tell her to run interference, swooping and diving just out of Dragon Lotus' sight. The fantastic thing about birds is that it only takes a little training to make them really difficult to hit. I watch my opponent's head snap to and fro as she tries to track Sundown and me at the same time, and I push rage as hard as I can. It works like a charm, and now there's a sight for Old Scratch to remember - Dragon Lotus spewing fire randomly into the air like a hosepipe on the ground while Sundown soars just out of reach. Tunnel vision's set in so hard for her that she doesn't even notice as I stroll up and drive my elbow into her neck. All in all, that could have gone a lot worse. Danger: 2d6+0 7 I'm still aching from the fight when I enter the Trouble Run area, but my limbs feel ten times lighter when I see the course. This is what I'm good at. You don't last long on the streets if you can't run and run and run, so that's exactly what I do. I dodge, leap and soar my way over fire pits and climbing walls and puzzle doors that I'm pretty sure we're meant to work together to solve... but forget that. I'm being enough of a team player by showing the others the way through. Though it becomes a little embarrassing when I run into the first magical obstacle, a platform suspended over water with what looked like a weird purple cloud above it. It doesn't seem dangerous so I run straight into it... and end up running back in the same direction I'd entered, back towards the other runners. I try it about 3 more times, before I decide to hang off the edge of the platform and shimmy my way along. That works fine, but it leaves me hanging there like an idiot when someone figures out how to turn the field off. I'm a bit more careful about outpacing everyone else after that. That's not to say I actively help them much, though. It's not my fault if they can't keep up... like Blackguard. If I hadn't been doing so well I would have been more frustrated with her. The few words we exchanged made me think she should be someone I could work well with - she's straight-talking, focused, not a gigantic egotist like everyone else here seems to be. But she's just so unsubtle! It feels like I've lost count of the number of times she suggested blasting our way through the obstacles instead of figuring them out. Which would make us all look bad, and probably wouldn't work anyway. Why is she even here if she doesn't want to use her head? I decided I'd had enough by the time we got to the maze. That was meant to be the trickiest challenge yet, presumably designed to test both our intelligence, our reactions (the floors were electrified, sometimes) and our ability to work independently. I'm pretty sure the idea was that we'd wander round confused unless we had some sort of supernatural guidance or intelligence. I'm happy to say I aced it, thanks to having an eye in the sky - it beats having a voice in your head any day. I didn't take a single wrong turn and dodged all the traps long before they could fire. And when I got to the end, I saw Blackguard trying to knock down one of the walls, and decided to give her a helping hand. I pushed anger just a little, then triumph when she made it through, and stood around for a second to enjoy the sight of her charging back toward the starting line. Idiot. Trouble: 2d6+2 12 Superior: 2d6+0 6 A written test? Are they serious? I thought this was meant to be a practical assessment! I almost give up in despair after the first few questions. I never paid attention to what the capital-H Heroes and capital-V Villains were doing - I absorbed some basic knowledge from my friends, and bits and pieces from TV, but I couldn't even tell you who's in the Modern Marvels right now. Do they actually expect me to know what some guy (I assume) called Ouroboros was doing before I was even born? I almost mistake the first of the strategy questions for another history one. The widespread adoption of laser weaponry has proved a mixed blessing for armed forces. Discuss. I manage a few awkward sentences about how the Infinite Empire wreaked devastation with laser weaponry during the first invasion (I think) before I snap. I draw a line straight down the page and scribble a few words on either side: pre:+++ | --- Less collateral damage | Difficult to aim Multiple settings | = inaccurate = good vs civilians | Noisy and obvious No reloading | Need batteries Good in space | Bad with mirrors My answer was pretty simple: Pull the lever. Fewer people will die. I couldn't help feeling like I was missing something, though. Was I meant to talk about whether letting a bad thing happen when you could stop it was the same as making it happen? I never saw the point of that distinction. It's the consequences that matter, right? And what did the money have to do with anything? [The correct, or at least the most villainous, answer would be to let the trolley hit the five people, as this will slow it down more than hitting the one, making it easier for you to grab the money.] I wish the rest of it had gone as smoothly. Unfortunately, the math questions prove to a very mixed bag. I can manage reasoning and arithmetic and problem-solving fine, but finance? Business? Coroporate structure? I always assumed I'd just tear those things down from the outside, so you can understand why I'd never bother learning the inside detail. Science? No. Magic? Absolutely not. By the time I get to the essay portion, my hand's aching. I picture each of the instructors giving a speech, write some bullshit about refusing to let society stand in your way and defining your own morality and fail miserably to come up with a pithy difference between being a villain and just being evil. What a mess. It's only as everyone files out of the room, with an impressive spectrum of expressions on our faces, that I realize I was probably meant to cheat. Isn't this just the perfect end to the day? Getting my head shrunk by some ridiculous parody of an analyst. I perch on the edge of a wicker chair while Counter Culture leafs through some notes with exaggerated care. "Wow. Hell of a messiah complex you got here, young lady." He's trying to get a rise out of me. It's written all over his face. "I mean, you've got the moves for it, that's for sure." He taps the side of his head and grins. "But you know, so have lots of other people. Some of them might be your team-mates. Some of them might even be better qualified. What're you gonna do when some other bozo steals the spotlight?" I smile. Is that the best he can do? "They're welcome to it. If they're stronger, more interesting, better looking, then sure. I'm not going to waste time with envy. As long as I get something, I'll be content with a supporting role." My message will reach those who need to hear it even if I'm not center stage. I'm not in this to be a celebrity. His air of complete relaxation doesn't stir one bit. "Hell of a coping mechanism you got there. Lemme guess, you were always the peacemaker, back in the day?" "Maybe." He's right on the money, of course, but that was a long time ago. "But you've been on your own for years now. When was the last time you saw your friends, like, face-to-face?. I reckon you've forgotten what it's like to really deal with other people's egos. And your own." He gives a shrug, followed by a yawn. "Why don't you let me join, and we can see if that's true or not?" I'm not going to rise to this bait. "You don't like it, do you? Having your future in somebody else's hands? Especially when you can't just push them into doing what you want." His smile is even wider now, but his eyes are narrowed. "No, I don't. Only a weakling wouldn't want to be in control of their own life." Though right now, I'd settle for being in control of the conversation. "I don't know, man... I think you could stand to be a bit more Zen about things. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised, what with... you know." I'm getting pissed off now. I can't help it. "With what? You know gently caress all about my life." He just keeps grinning. "You're not the only one with a shortcut to people's heads." He starts wiggling his fingers like a parody of a stage magician. "I'm getting a signal... yep, I'm seeing something... how about that, it's you! What were the chances? You're sitting all by yourself, and you're crying. It's raining and... something about a building site? And some birds? Man, I am really sorry about those birds... didn't turn out too well for them, did it? You're crying because you want somebody to come pick you up and tell you you don't have to worry and that it'll all be ok... but you know that's not true, not really. Nobody's coming to help. You're gonna have to pick yourself up this time, and it hurts." "That's not what I'm like." I'm clenching my fists. "But it's how you used to be, and you hate it. I get it, kid, I really do - you're never gonna let that happen again. You're never gonna let yourself go back there." He taps his head with a knowing smirk. "I got you all figured out." Menace: 2d6+0 8 Gato fucked around with this message at 22:59 on May 18, 2016 |
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May 16, 2016 22:36
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KittyEmpress posted:Jitendra Devar - Kama Counter-Culture: "You know I studied under some gurus, I dig your dharma. You're kind of going about the whole thing all wrong by the way most would be bodhisattvas might've put it, but I like that. Digging your way down to hell, but it don't seem like you've had much of a say in it. You sure you don't want to climb back up to those heavens the rest of us are trying to get to? I mean, do you think they even miss you up there?" Turning cutting right there at the end.
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May 17, 2016 08:50
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Also, two-day warning from today for getting applications in, though the actual picks may not be concurrent with that.
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May 17, 2016 08:51
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Paola Castillo the Crook, bearing the battle name of Zapper.  ("It's just a placeholder until I find something better! And look, most of my inventions are electrically powered, that's close enough to a theme for now. I have other priorities." Look Woman, Hispanic, casual clothing, utilitarian costume. The "costume" is actually a set of unobtrusive dark clothes, a domino mask and a 10$ utility belt containing her portable inventions. She's not very good at the flashiest parts of the profession. Abilities -Gadgets and traps, not quite as physics defying as the work of a true mad scientist, but plenty good to short-circuit cameras or taze policemen. -Burglary and theft, learned the hard way during her first solo robberies and heists. If it wasn't for her inventions she would have been thrown in jail at her first job. Assets -A workshop. It's actually an old warehouse filled with materials raided at a junkyard and second-hand machines bought with her savings from an hardware store, but with her know-how and enouh car batteries she can put together plenty of decently powerful material. -A fence. Joan Alden, an old friend of Paola's, ows a shady pawn shop in the neighborhood. She asks no inopportune questions, gives her a fair(er) price and has an hidden stash of valuable odds and ends that no cop has ever managed to find. Moment of Triumph You’re about to make the score of your life. There is no obstacle that you can’t bypass, there’s no wall you can’t scale. You make out like a bandit. Everything is within your grasp, just take, take, take, and take some more. The more ridiculous the better here. You need to keep piling it on… because eventually that’s the point where the MC will call it, because it’s your being laden with all that stuff that will expose you once more. Plan Moves When you meddle in the plots of others… ask them if they can help you get what you want. If they say yes, give them Influence over you and clear a condition. If they say no, mark a condition and Curses! When others meddle in your plots… decide whether you slack off or focus. If you focus and get it done as a team, add Plan to the pool. If you slack off together and ease off, they can choose to give you Influence over them to clear one of their conditions. When you stop to gloat about your master plan… explain how after the score you’re going to fulfill one of your desires with your ill-gotten reward. Roll +Plan. On a hit, cross off the Want described as if fulfilled, as you flash forward to your fantasy. On 7-9, you are distracted; choose one: mark a condition; spend a Plan; the person you are gloating to escapes or gets an advantage. Curses! 0/5 Labels: Freak: -3 -2 -1 0 +1 +2 +3 Danger: -3 -2 -1 0 +1 +2 +3 Trouble: -3 -2 -1 0 +1 +2 +3 Superior: -3 -2 -1 0 +1 +2 +3 Menace: -3 -2 -1 0 +1 +2 +3 Crook Moves Bag of Tricks You’re never content to be predictable in your line of work, and constantly stealing new experimental technology and equipment that complement your particular skillset. Whenever you steal some new kit, you can write it down as a new ability if this line is empty. ______________________ 0/3 Treat the new piece of kit as any other ability. Whenever you use the kit in a cunning and risky way, roll +Trouble instead of +Freak to unleash your powers with it. When the third box is checked, the kit is broken, lost, or recovered from those you stole it from, and you can erase it from the line Eyes on the Prize When executing a plan, hold 1 (up to 3). Spend your hold to take +1 for 1 when seizing victory, and/or to abscond from the final action scene. Wants Steal from someone you know you shouldn’t (possibly Dr. Crawford) Pull off a ridiculous stunt Get a new villain name Get a new costume Backstory What got you into your life of crime? I didn't set out to be a thief, you know? I was good, so good that I skipped like two years, so good that my grades managed to get me into a good college, where I studied advanced electrodynamic theory... I wanted to be an invetor and gadget designer, you know. Except that the scientific world hates young people, loathes women and isn't especially fond of Hispanics, either. So all I got was an endless parade of closed doors and "don't call us, we'll call you"s. Of course, I didn't quite realize that was the reason at the time, and the frustation was eating me alive. All my dreams of fame and wealth were slipping through my fingers, after all the studying I had done. But then here comes Dr. Crawford. He really does call me back. He works for Phalanx Incorporated, a cutting edge design technology company, specializing in alterante energy sources. He said he was impressed with my resume, especially the inventions I had plans for. He actually hired me! Well, he let me in for a probationary period of time to see if I was as good as I advertised. And I was! What followed was a brief period of bliss as I worked in the advanced Phalanx labs, helping Crawford and learning from him, confronting our notes and working on his inventions. He promised me that my Micro Generator would be sold in stores just after I was finished with the probationary period! Which of course, happened... right after he threw me out because I was "inefficient" at the end of the period and got all the credit for my MG. Because I was never formally hired, the data for it was never saved under my name anywhere and all I could do was watch the old bastard get rich with the grant money that was supposed to be MINE. So here I am now. If the honest way got me hosed over, I will go for the dishonest way. A terrorized banker doesn't care if who points the gun at him has brown or white skin. And I deserve it more than him anyway. How did you gain your particular set of skills? My gadgets are all made by me, a combination of pure cerebral brute force and nights after nights spent studying the most advanced theories about electrons and neutrinos. Most are powered by my Mini Generators, which gives them much more power than you'd think such a small device could hold. My personal favorite is the Overloader, which overcharges electrical networks, frying alarm systems like they're not even there. As for my more... furtive talents, I had to develop those the hard way: through practice. They are not the easiest skills to train, and if it wasn't for my invetions I probably would have been caught in my first solo robberies and heists. But practice makes perfect, and now I can sneak, climb and lockpick with the best of them. Who, outside your peers, thinks you just a two-bit thief? Well, there was this one time when I was robbing an electronics recycling store for parts and materials (those places are great for this, they have everything!) and while I was sure that I had overcharged the alarm, less than an hour since I got there this guy with a top hat with gears on it and aviator goggles flies in (I think he had a jetpack? It was hard to tell with all the bolts and gears he had all over his outfit) and shouts me to drop my "ill-gotten gains". We had a brief fight in there, but the noise was getting too much attention so I had to bail without the loot. I did get one good tazer hit in just as I was leaving, and as I run I hear him saying "Ah! I shall return those wonders of science that you stole to their legitimate owners, ye wench! So swears the Wonder Worker!" He just assumed that I had stolen them, the prick! And who wears gears on a damned top hat, anyway? Why do you try to be a villain? I tried, I honest to God tried to be an honest person. But I always knew that I deserved better, and I proved that a thousand times over with my work and with my study. I am not asking unreasonable things: that my work is admired for the greatness that it is (and it is, just ask that fat cat Crawford about it) and that I am given what I am owed for what I can contribute to society. If that is not given to me willingly, I will take it by force, or even better by guile. My patience has been over for a while now. Why do you suffer the others? As stupid as they are (and believe you me, they are pretty darn stupid) there are things that even I can't do, at least not without stretching my resources so much, devoting so many gadgets to cover so many roles tat it becomes impractical. If the pie is big enough, sharing it with others is still better than a smaller pie to eat on my own. Plus, I could learn something from them. Different perspectives and all that. It's fascinating what sort of people are interested in the life of crime, isn't it? Tricky Dick Nixon posted:The Disembodied Duo: "Hem. Well, the name, and the costume, could use a little sprucing up, don't you think, Mr. Mind? Its not like you have the same, well, je ne c'est quoi that some villains possess by their very nature. But ah! Dr. Heart knows to not judge a specimen by its epidermis! Perhaps there is something you can show us, some distinction that will serve you better, in your work if not your... personal style, yes?" She then gets a small device from her utility belt. It's shaped like a telephone with an abnormally horizontally extended screen. After some fiddling with levers and buttons, a series of shouts of surprises and a diffuse crackling are heard, as a number of cellphones owned from teens all over the room shoot sparks and fry their motherboard, in one case causing a small explosion. "This is my Overcharger, sirs." Paola shows off her invention, a gleam of pride illuminating her eyes. "I have broken down anything from cars to computers with this. There is so much dependency on powered technology in this day and age, the possibility of breaking it down is just too big an advantage to pass up." Requests from the first post: Villainous monologue Why you? Well, there are the obvious reasons: you are well-off enough to be an appreciable target for a thief such as myself, but not so rich that you may adequately defend yourself and your earnings from the likes of me. Your bodyguard in particular was a pushover, by the by. Hope he didn't cost you too much. But yes, there is another reason I decided to rob you in particular is that I am the type that holds a grudge. Remember that young inventor who wanted a research grant to produce an optimized model of taser? And you barely listened to her and just looked at her luridly? ...no, of course you don't. Shut up, I can see that you don't, you took like three seconds to answer. Well, since you clearly were not impressed by it surely you have nothing against a getting tagged by my taser, do you? Since it's clearly too ineffective to be worthy of your filthy money? BZZZZZT! Thought so. Insults. Gosh, it must really be nice to be you, isn't it? You have enough time on your hands to faff around, writing down how whole nations, whole worlds work, all in your silly little head for your silly little games, and populate them with a bunch of imaginary characters, like a grown man still playing with his puppets. By all means, continue your little tea party and don't let us boring adults get in the way of your fun time. dont listen to her tricky i <3 you Untrustworthy comic cover We are in the interior of a bank. A sign helpfully points out that we are in the USA Washington Mint. Zapper is holding her taser and menacing a bureaucrat with it. The latter trembles, as he holds a light match in front of an enormous pile of dollars, that occupies half the page. "Get ON with it, you fool! DESTROY the national reserves of CASH and COLLAPSE this cruel ECONOMY! ONLY THEN shall my REVENGE be COMPLETE!" A DASTARDLY PLOT TO BRING THE AMERICAN DREAM TO ITS KNEES! A PAST HAUNTED BY TRAGEDY AND MISFORTUNE! JUST WHO IS THIS MYSTERIOUS...ZAPPER?!? Questions from MurderDome Who are you? Paola stands straight and looks her interlocutor straight in the eyes, or equivalent facial feature. "My name is Paola Castillo, sir/madam. I am a burglar, a second-story woman, a robber, but most importantly I am an inventor. My momentary alias is Zapper, but it is merely a placeholder. What can the Association do for you? "Up until now, I have had to make do with a woefully underequipped workshop. I could do so much more, and so much better, had I access to better materials and tools. Junkyard raids and stolen car batteries only get you so far. I would appreciate an upgrade." she removes her glasses and polishes them. She hopes this communicates more confidence than she actually feels right now. "Failing that, I wouldn't mind some info on some worthy targets. After striking those, I could buy some better equipment myself." She laughs for half a second. She hopes the villain she's talking to reacts well to some measured humor. What can you do for the Association? "I am a woman of many talents. I can destroy security, sneak into buidlings, retrieve anything that can at all be retrieved. Should you need some more delicate work to be done, the kind you wouldn't trust to a two-bit thief, placing hidden cameras, stealing or installing evidence, things like that, me and my invetions can provide. Those nice little things, by the way, can elevate, sap, stun, destroy and most of anything in between. They really are quite flexible." A large grin makes its way through her face, hopefully a good combination of friendly and predatory. "Just like me." paradoxGentleman fucked around with this message at 23:37 on May 18, 2016 |
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May 17, 2016 20:44
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-Ignore me, Can't come up with anything good. Salt the earth.-
Arashiofordo3 fucked around with this message at 22:47 on May 18, 2016 |
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May 17, 2016 23:19
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quote:"Who are you?" "I am Jitendra Devar, exalted child of the great Deva, lords of the world, the ascendant beings, and The One Who Will Hold The Stars. I am Kama, the representative of the desires of all beings, of the longing, the lust, the drive to claim. I am reborn, renewed, and here to spread my greatness through this realm." quote:"What can the Association do for you?" "Mmmm." Jitendra grows silent for a long while, staring at the questioner, looking just a little put off as they are forced to admit to a weakness, "I know little of this world, and of how to survive in it. I require assistance in finding my own pieces of self, and in restoring myself to glory. Your Association can provide me with tools, allies, training, shelter, knowledge, all the things I'll need to become what I truly deserve to be." quote:"What can you do for the Association?" This question instead makes the god-being smile, "Well, I am me. What do you expect for me to be able to do? I can win you the hearts and minds of civilians, I can conquer your enemies, I will one day rule this entire world - do you not understand anything? It's simple! For every assistance you provide me now, I shall be able to pay back a thousand times, when you will be trusted in the new world order, as thanks for what you've done. Besides that, I'm faster than any of your world's 'bullets', I am strong enough to lift most of the vehicles you use for transport, and just looking at me is enough to drive weakwilled people mad. And I shall only grow more powerful." Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Counter-Culture: "You know I studied under some gurus, I dig your dharma. You're kind of going about the whole thing all wrong by the way most would be bodhisattvas might've put it, but I like that. Digging your way down to hell, but it don't seem like you've had much of a say in it. You sure you don't want to climb back up to those heavens the rest of us are trying to get to? I mean, do you think they even miss you up there?" Turning cutting right there at the end. The wrong way? The wrong way? What would they even know of the right ways - look at where the right ways have gotten us. We are Gods, and yet barely fifteen percent of humans even believe in what we taught at all! Oh sure, my fellow Deva are happy to let humans find their own way, to let them learn on their own, to let them make their own way for good or ill, but why is it so wrong to want them to realize that they are so stupid and worthless. So sure, maybe I went against the dharma, maybe I had too much ambition, too much want to make myself known, so that we could have the respect we deserved, but that's not my fault - that's the fault of them, with their stupid outdated rules, and their acceptance of fading into obscurity. We could have entered this realm as Gods, and been the greatest of beings, we could have taught every human to follow us and live correctly, but they'd prefer to sit there, happy with their lots. They say that's why I was made Asura, because I wanted more than my lot in life, a trait the Sura give only to their malevolent, lesser brothers. And maybe, just maybe, I would have liked the Asura - except they too only wanted to have what the Deva had, nothing more, they too did not care about the billions of people who didn't care about them. Why did they not see the idiocy of this, why desire not to be seen, to be heard? So perhaps I insulted them, and claimed their ambitions were too small, were foolish, would never be realized, and perhaps I was punished for it, and sent here. But was it truly a punishment, to be sent to where I always wished to be? So I could be the god I was always meant to be? Why live in heaven, when one can rule on Earth - and why worry about what those who abandoned me think of me, when I have long since left them behind, as nothing but those stuck in their own pasts? Perhaps my parents forget I even exist, and all of those I lived with no longer care of me - but I care not for them either. All that matters is what power I hold. 13:56 KittyEmpress freak chamber 13:56 KittyEmpress !r 2d6+2 13:56 Krysmbot KittyEmpress, 9+2 = 11 Entering the chamber, I'm not sure what I expect. It's large, mostly empty, besides a few... boxes they appeared to have laid out I can see the so called Disembodied Duo behind glass, outside of the actual dangerous areas. Their first question is a simple 'how do your powers work' - really, there's nothing more simple than that, "They simply are. They're a part of my being, as much as you being a... brain and a heart is part of your own." As means of showing them, I quickly crossed the room with my natural speed, ending with a single finger balancing one of the large crates on it, "I'm not fast or strong, everyone else is just slow and weak." I wasn't even really trying here, it was a simple task, and I just put down the box, stretching my arms back behind my head in a way that I'd come to learn was very 'chillax', as the show I had been watching explained, which I believe meant something akin to 'taunting'. "How about we do something fun? You know, robots, ninjas, a-" My taunting was, rather amusingly, interrupted by Dr. Heart apparently head-butting me in the face, which made me recoil and shut up for a moment. A quick glance up to where they had been standing revealed them... still there. And the number of Dr. Hearts and Mr. Minds multiplying all throughout the chamber - an interesting and wonderful idea for me. They sure felt real enough, that 'head' hurt about as much as a civilian punching me though - which meant not much at all. "Oh maan, this is just... so lame." I complained loudly, as i popped up and down on my toes, one hop, then two hops, and then dashing out to grab one of the heart's by their 'heads', and laughing happily, "Oh, I have a heart in my hand, what ever shall I do~!" I loved this part, as I swung it towards one of the brains, quickly enough that the body literally cracked like a whip as it moved to hit the other psionic construct. I scarcely noticed how hesitant the psionic constructs seemed to be to attack me, as I went to town on them - throwing boxes, darting up walls and dropping them, running across their heads - I was having fun with it, and they weren't nearly interesting enough. But eventually I got bored, and grabbing one of the many fake Mr. Mind's, I flung it up into the air towards the sealed box they sat in, watching me, and then jumped on it, calmly surfing my way up to their little safety box, slamming my head into the reinforced glass, shattering it into a million pieces as I climbed inside, "Hello." I said it with a little smile, as I sat down in front of them, in the now broken open window, "Nice to see you." What Kama doesn't realize is that their godlike presence was affecting even the psionic constructs, and in fact somehow affects even creations of the mind without their own sapience. Kama simply assumed the constructs were meant to be that slow and boring. 14:25 KittyEmpress danger zone 14:25 KittyEmpress !r 2d6+1 14:25 Krysmbot KittyEmpress, 7+1 = 8 Entering the next chamber after that last test made me at least smile - it was boring and empty, but there was someone else in it, and I'd already gotten briefed on what was going to happen. A fight, a good, old fashioned fight, something to pit man against god. I faced down The Man of Silver, a flashy, idiotic villain with powers similar to my own - super strength, super toughness, and his skin was literally made out of silver, so he was nice and shiny, which was kinda obnoxious with how it combined with the white light of the room, to become almost blinding. Old Scratch didn't seem intent on keeping us waiting, and as soon as we both were fully in the room, he was already more than happy to yell for us to start. I, of course, took the first move, with my far superior speed. A spinning kick to hit him in the chest with my heel - a stronger part of the body to absorb the impact, as well as to further impact him with the sheer force. I... was more than a little annoyed as he only slid back a foot, if that, before catching himself and charging me back. Right then and there the entire fight would have been decided to be a drag out brawl, as we started punching each other... if Old Scratch hadn't started laughing, and panels of the floor started falling out, to reveal actual lava beneath the chamber. I didn't even understand how they had gotten lava here, let alone how they kept the heat from turning the whole place into a firey mess before they opened it up. But now it was hotter than I liked it, and more of the tiles were falling away. Silver looked better off than me, his toughness and the metal he was made of at least lessening the effects of the heat on him. Annoying. I had to take advantage of my superior speed on this, and he was coming right for me. So it was simple - stay on one tile and punch it out with him for a bit... and then dart away with my superior speed, so he falls into the lava, and I get away. It's a perfect plan, and he fell right for it - the only problem being that it hurt to be hit by him, and my punches, despite having ten of them for every one of his, seemed to be doing less than his were doing for me. Still, it was the perfect chance, and as the tile started to fall out from under us, I quickly launched myself away from him, slamminginto the far wall as he began to fall - only for a black staff to catch him, Old Scratch shaking his head, "Ugh, kid, you know I bet on you..." He complained to SIlver, as he tossed him at a wall like he was literally made of paper. My nose was broken, my jaw was chipping, my head was ringing, I couldn't even stand up as Old Scratch walked over, looking me over and huffing, "Next time, make sure you look like you're gonna win, I hate losing bets." Standing up hurt, but not too badly, I could move, I had more tests to take. 23:00 KittyEmpress also I guess i'll do a trouble run, incoming failure 23:01 KittyEmpress !r 2d6-1 23:01 Krysmbot KittyEmpress, 9-1 = 8 My head was still ringing when I got to the track, so I obviously wasn't in my top condition, divine ichor dripping down my face, a golden color that stained the white cloth that was my clothes. I hated the look of this already - a physical challenge, right after the last, and this time some form of obstacle course or something of that sort. I hated obstacles - I preferred to plow through them, rather than avoid them. Going full force is always the best option, is it not? And then I got introduced to the fact that we would be working in a... team. A team that included someone I do not appreciate, and never will. Midnight Magick. Forever and a day shall I remember how terrible a teammate this woman was, I shall recall every bit of her failing to even try to work as a team, I will remember her haughty attitude despite her idiotic non-divine nature, which just left her as something of an annoyance. One that was like a pebble inside of one's shoe, that will not be dislodged, will not remove itself, and even when you try to remove it, it just insists on being a pain. Her 'magic' was a pointless silly endeavor, requiring her to 'focus' and 'take time' and slow me down. I finally got sick of her terrible slowness, and picked the woman up off the ground, so we could have some actual speed to our team. She... did not appreciate this, and soon it became a near fight, as she instead of using her magic to guard us as would be intelligent chose to respond to my calling her slow and useless by hitting me instead, stealing my sight. This lead to the most embarrassing moment - where I, having dropped her, ran straight into a rather... large swinging iron ball, that would have been easy enough to avoid, had I had use of my sight at the time. The sight of this made Midnight laugh, which prompted my sight to return. Confound that 'witch'. I do think one part that surprised everyone involved was when I went past the Lake of Burning Water And Also Lasers In The Air by... running really fast, fast enough to just cross the water, without trying to fly through the lasers, or build any kind of bridge over the lake. Humans really should just learn to go faster. Who cared if my feet were burned and walking hurt - I had done something they had not. I had proven my dominance. 16:38 KittyEmpress !r 2d6+1 16:38 Krysmbot KittyEmpress, 9+1 = 10 16:39 KittyEmpress Oh, I didn't call out what it was, but htat's for 'superior hall' or w/e 16:39 KittyEmpress in capers Now this, this is something I could handle with my current state of being, even as my nose had stopped bleeding the golden divine ambrosia of my body, and my feet were reduced to a dull ache, not a throbbing burn - this was somewhere of learning, of knowledge, and who better to show master of these things than I, who have lived since time immemorial, who existed far above human understanding, who was above and beyond all of this foolishness? Torturous Thinking was the easiest for me - for I thought far faster than a human ever would, and was above them in all acts of what I might think. I easily aced this section, without a single bit of cheating - for why would I cheat, when I was already superior! Maniacal Maths was simply the use of vedic numbers, twisted so slightly as to not even matter! Perhaps I used my superspeed to check my neighbor's answers once or twice, but hah! I needn't have, I would still have aced it! Sinister Science had extensive occult and cosmological questions, which were incredibly simple for me - after all, I was of the occult and cosmological! The questions on the actual 'human science' was more... annoying, which brings me to Hardcore History, where the humans tried to brag about their own misdeeds, as if they were of any importance at all. So I was annoyed, I was tired of this, I didn't need these stupid questions on these stupid 'villains' - so I simply walked up to Madame Mode, the sentient robot that loved to thrust its mammary glands around like some kind of human in heat, and pointed to my test, "You should just give me the answers to these worthless sections." I said it forcefully, with the full godliness of my Self behind it. And that's how I cheated in front of every student in the Hall, by simply telling the teacher to give me the answers, and filling in what she told me. 16:50 KittyEmpress Office of Menace 16:50 KittyEmpress !r 2d6 16:50 Krysmbot KittyEmpress, 9 = 9 Counter Culture. The annoyance who tried to prod me over my being wrong. So I was already a little annoyed as I was forced to sit - more like lay - in a ugly chair that started to whirr and press at my back, legs... everything, as I sat down. At first I was sure it was attacking me, and I was pressing back into it, but soon after Counter Culture just laughed, telling me to 'Take a chill pill' and 'Just go with it'. Annoying phrases, but ones that reminded me of the 'chillax' taunting, so I happily moved my arms behind my head and laid there, watching him with a severe expression on my face. The questions are inane and boring, he seems almost sad that I am so remarkably stable, and un-angered, even as he prods more at my past, at my own failures. He frowns and writes down a few notes, every time he asks me if I feel like a loser and I say no without rising to the bait. He sighs deeply as he calls me a failure of a Deva, and I just calmly tell him I am simply beyond the other Deva. Despite my indignant attitude and sense of superiority, I am remarkably good at keeping my cool under the questioning of a mere human. Somehow though, the question comes to my state of dress, and my body itself and... ah, it is a little annoying, but he finally coaxed out of me that I, in fact, do not understand or possess a gender as humans do, a fact that makes me... a little insecure. In the heavens above, there are many forms of Deva and Devi - the Deva, men, the Devi, women, those who are neither, Brahma, those who possess both, Radha Krishna and they are all viewed as having their places with any other. I am of the last group, and apparently remarkably unique on this planet, split into two separations, where one is seen as strong and the other as weak. Having a half of me viewed as weak, it's pathetic, it's annoying, it makes me wonder if it is at fault for my failures - but I cannot change it. I almost want to steal his stupid notebook to destroy the evidence of what I said... Except then he changed the subject away from there, without a care in the world about it, making me feel even more... annoyed. But it quickly turns to questions about the best moments I've had since coming to the Realm of Man. I started off simply - terrifying humans, making people bow before me, showing off how much better I am than them in general, but none of them were really detailed, so he kept pressing. I don't know why I said it, but I started discussing a... truly interesting moment, one that defined my journey into this realm. Imagine ambrosia, food of gods, that warms you, fills you, makes you feel like you need nothing else. This was the same feeling as ambrosia, the chill of cold touching my senses as I stood there reverently, warmth coursing down the chill still, red and white colors all around it, the pink shoved into it unceremoniously. It was a mountain of beauty and wonder, and as I grabbed the pink 'spoon' and took a bite, it was as if I was once again in the heavens. Cold, but hot, sweet, yet bitter, juicy and yet dry in parts. It was a heavenly treat, one truly fit for the gods. One that they called... 'Frozen Yogurt'. I do not understand why Counter Culture found that story so amusing. KittyEmpress fucked around with this message at 07:23 on May 18, 2016 |
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May 17, 2016 23:20
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paradoxGentleman posted:Paola Castillo the Crook, bearing the battle name of Zapper. The Disembodied Duo: "Hem. Well, the name, and the costume, could use a little sprucing up, don't you think, Mr. Mind? Its not like you have the same, well, je ne c'est quoi that some villains possess by their very nature. But ah! Dr. Heart knows to not judge a specimen by its epidermis! Perhaps there is something you can show us, some distinction that will serve you better, in your work if not your... personal style, yes?" Sidebar: Make sure to include your two move choices and Wants.
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May 17, 2016 23:21
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Paola doesn't have superpowers, like most of the other wannabe villains in the room with her. But she does have her grappling hook in one hand, and her tazer in the other, for now in short distance mode; it can be switched to long distance mode, so that the head detaches and flies towards the target, by flicking a switch. She doesn't know what to expect from the Chamber, so she brought a bit of everything from her gadget armory: her trusty Overcharger, capable of increasing the energy intensity of any powered object, from a cellphone to a car, to the breaking point; a couple of smoke bombs; Mini-Generator powered drill, pneumatic wrench and electric saw, for quick and dirty repair work or sabotage; rope, which it really sucks to be without when you need it, and a couple of other odds and ends. As they wait for the Freak Chamber to get ready, the boy next to her, a tall, gangly youth in a yellow and black jumpsuit with bike goggles, is fiddling with a scanner of some kind. He furrows his brow and takes a skeptical look at Paola. "I thought you were supposed to be a normie?" Paola barely deigns to hold her disdain. "I assume you mean someone with no superpowers? Yes, I don't have any. Very observant of you." "Listen lady, you can't be a normie if you've got ma-" The siren signaling the beginning of the exercive begin. Jumpsuit Boy is interrupted; the brief conversation is pushed outside of Paola's mind as she prepares for the test. quote:That's right, Paola's gadgets are the product of mad science or hypertech, although not quite as obviously physics-defying as other mad scientists' creations. This would mean, amongst other things, that they cannot be reproduced by human hands. But if that's the case, how did Crawford manage to mass produce her Mini-Generators? Roll out of the way of the holographic speeding car. Overload the thresher machine with all the spinning blades right when some other amateurs think they are outside of its range, so the exlposion sends the blades flying at them. Kick in the knees the zombie that you're pretty sure is real. Grappling hook yourself out of the suddenly quicksand-like pavement by grabbing onto the big guy who looks like an hippo. Paola is focused, concentrated, and intent on showing off as many of her inventions as possible, to show the Disembodied Duo just what is she capable of. And yet she never sees it coming. quote:Freak Chamber Test: 2d6-1 2. Ouch. The Dervish jumps in the air with a battle cry, his speed exceding that of the most well-trained unpowered human. Paola barely manages to get out of the way, scrambling away from the woman's swords as they hit the floor behind her with a CLANG. The impact causes her opponent's cape, stylish and decorated, to flutter about; it somehow does not get caught in the costantly raising and lowering platforms that litter the Danger Room since the match started. Maybe it's another superpower. The Dervish takes a moment to find her balance again, but the inventor does not trust herself to reach her in time without risking stumbling and exposing herself to a counterattack. This cannot go on. Sooner or later she'll get lucky and land an hit, and then I'll be cut to ribbons. She waits for her opponent's next move; and as the acrobat warrior kicks against a rising tile to propel herself towards her, the Zapper throws down a smoke bomb and only then sidesteps her, careful to mantain her balance. With a little luck, between the smoke and the jump she won't see in what direction I've dodged, which should allow me to tase her good.. quote:Danger Room Test: 2d6 4 "C'mon, normie! We can't slow down for your sake, you know!" They are not, of course, slowing down for her sake. No self-respecting group of future villains would deign themselves to wait for someone that seriously fell behind. She just happens to be slowest runner in her team. She's never been great at PE, and falling into that pit hidden by an hologram made her lose precious moments; everyone else took heed of her fall and jumped the pit without breaking a sweat, naturally. The Trouble Run (or is it Trouble Track? Paola has heard it called both ways) now consists of ever narrowing bridges, one for each team. Stinger, the guy with the bike glasses and the jumpsuit, is leading her team, both in the literal sense and in the shout-insipid-instructions-that-doesn't-help-anybody sense. The bridge has gotten narrow enough that they have to walk two by two when they see it and for the first time stop to consider their approach. A towering metallic tree with six rotating sections, each with its own horizontal branches swatting away at any villain foolish enough make its way on the narrow walkway surrounding its trunk. The branches thin out as one went upwards: it's clear that they are expected to climb and acrobatically make their way through the upper sections. The variations in speed and direction from one section of the obstacle to another make this a daunting task. No one wanted to be the first to try and dodge its way to the rest of the track. "Alright everyone" says Stinger, turning around to look at his so-called team. "We need to-" He is interrupted as someone pushes her way to the head of the group. It's Zapper. "Ah! The normie thinks she can dance around this one no problem, eh?" laughs the horrible little man, with a nasal and unpleasant laugh. "Be my guest!" Zapper says nothing. She gets out her Overcharger and fiddles with the levers and buttons a bit. For a second, the obstacle seems to rotate even more, before making a buzzing sound, billowing some smoke and coming to an halt. Paola grins and starts traversing the walkway as the rest of the team follows her with an excited cheer. Stinger is so surprised it takes him a couple of seconds to join the group. Now all they have to do is duck under the higher branches and walk over the lower ones. With the machine immobile this is no great task. Paola is the first to make it through, and actually waits for the rest of the group. When Stinger is about to cross, however, she pushes a button and the machine comes to life again, hitting the jumpsuit clad teen straight in the jaw. The inventor's grin widens as she resumes her run. There is still plenty of Trouble Track to traverse, but Stinger won't be joining her for some time, and they certainly can't slow down for his sake. Trouble Run Test: 2d6+2 5 Seats, desks, tests: this is all familiar territory Trouble Run Test: 2d6+2 5for Paola. Sure, the subjects are really, really odd and the girl next to her appears to have a robotic arm, but still, it's a nice change of pace from all the booby traps and flamethrowers she has had to deal with until now. "Alright, get your head in the game. First things first, the things you are most sure of." She quickly flips her test book to the Sinister Science section, and starts working her way through them with gusto. Some questions she has studied in her advanced electronics classes; some she has read about in science magazines she consumes; some she admittedly does not know, especially the ones about magic, but it's still a decent base to work with. The problem is now the rest of the test; especially this Hardcore History stuff. Paola of course knows about the most infamous of malefactors (and notes that there are more questions about Madame Mode than what may be considered a fair share) but a lot of these names ring np beòòs with her. She takes a look at the girl sitting at her right. She biting her lip and tapping her pencil against the test. She's in trouble as well. An alliance is formed in whispers between the two students. Whenever they think Madame is not paying attention (an imperfect art, to be sure) one says the number of a question to the other and receives an answer. But the trick is, Paola noticed a small tic of the mouth when the android girl accepted her offer. She intends to sabotage her. So Paola assumes that the answers she is receiving are wrong. This allows her to reduce the pool of possible answers, which in turns makes it more likely for her to get the right one. A little reasoning and avoiding the obviously wrong one one make her acceptably confident that she has improved noticeably her final grade. She's particulalrly proud of her answer to a Torturous Thinking question. It's about a planned robbery at a Yokoyama Industries factory, in which there is a passing mention of a Wanwan Mdl. 2.0 support robot. Paola knows that Yokoyama is an old-fashioned industrial powerhouse owned by the Yokoyama family, Japanese magnates well known for their dislike of supers and even hypertech, who specializes in military, in particular military robotics, with the stated intention of "providing the common man with weapons strong enough to dismiss any superpowered menace". The Wanwan series, while pretty small and vaguely canine-shaped, are a "support robot" in the sense that they are designed to provide covering fire for other robots. A tricky question indeed. But not as tricky as another one, that Paola frankly has no idea how to crack. "What is Madame Mode's only weakness?" She isn't expecting anyone to actually answer this one, is she? She probably doesn't really have a specific weakness to something, right? Or maybe she does, and this is meant to make the new recruits just think that she doesn't? Paola decides to leave the question blank and focus on the rest of the test. But when she gives back her test, she is still thinking about that question. quote:There is no right answer to this question. Even if Madame does have a weakness to something, she is most certainly not goint to tip her hand if some random punk happens to get it by pure chance. She could, however, decide to arrange for said punk to have an unfortunate accident in one mission or other, just to be safe. Superior Hall Test: 2d6+1 7 "Technically, there is no intrinsic value in this test. I could lie like a rug the entire time, and for the purpose of this conversation, you would have to take it at face value, wouldn't you, sir?" Paola is walking up and down the Office of Menace, having found a path that allows her to do so without disturbing any bric-a-brac. "Yeah, man, sure" says Counter-Culture from his reclined position. "If you've done stuff you don't want to talk about, that's fine, man. You gotta look out for yourself, you know? If sharing ain't your thing, it ain't your thing." The young villain bites her lip. "Of course, the fact itself that you got things you don't want to talk about tells me something about you all by itself, little lady. Some good and some bad." Paola stops pacing. She now leans against the left wall of the office, eyes fixed on the mind controller. "It tells me that you are not the oversharing type. That you are sure enough in yourself that you don't need to, like, project yourself onto others to make you feel good about your sense of identity, yeah? You know what you are, and you are okay with that." "But at the same time, you've been burned by someone. You've been burned bad enough that you won't even have consider the risk that I may learn something about you, because I could, maybe, one day, use it against you. That's messed up, little lady, and I think you know that." Paola is slowly becoming more and more red of face. "You can leave if you want, little lady." Counter-Culture's gaze wanders to the ceiling. "You've told me all that I need to know." Office of Menace Test: 2d6+1 4 paradoxGentleman fucked around with this message at 23:25 on May 18, 2016 |
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May 17, 2016 23:27
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 You aren’t exactly sure where you’re shuffled off to. It’s somewhere out of the way for sure, and the walls and rooms seem entirely unfinished and peculiarly modular. It’s not too long, maybe a day or so after your final evaluations, and the postings of the scores. There were some comments, and everyone was scored by their evaluation in a very simple way: They Exceeded Expectations, Met Expectations, or Did Not Meet Expectations. Ultimately, however, if you didn’t give up halfway, you passed. Maybe a third of the people that showed were still around, and that’s all the trials really were. A test of patience, ultimately, to get to this point, though it also evaluated generally the points where people may have needed a little work, as well as registered data for the boffins in R&D to work their mad science with. Ultimately, one of the five advisors singles you out to mentor you, based on your performances. In some cases it might because you did really well. Otherwise it might be because you were quite abysmal, otherwise, it may have just been due to some desire of their own, but they do provide some additional feedback based on your performance, and continue along with the other four advisors to provide advice throughout the orientation period. See below for prompts/feedback based on Phase I. Disembodied Duo Hartonn: "Ah! Forgive the palpitations. You are surely aware of the effect you have on those around you. Surely such would engender a sense of superiority, much like any Svengali-complex type psionic talent might engender in the standard human, which Mr. Mind has some materials on I'd like to go over with you, because it's very unlike what we're familiar with. Could you demonstrate to us, perhaps, how exactly you might be able to harness it?" Twilight: "You might think your condition beyond the realms of scientific inquiry, but not true! In fact, the study of demonology is very well-respected since the Atropus incident. Of course, what superstition views as demons, we understand as emanations of the Negaverse. You are familiar with that correct? The anti-matter, anti-energy that by consequence of Mancini's Law of Metaphysics must exist as a shadow to the entire Astral Multiverse. Still, this Shadowland, anything of the sort is very poorly understood. Do you mean Closetland, the Negaverse emanation of Faeryland? No, surely not... Do tell us more!" Kama: "It's so very rare that we get a true god-being to examine, isn't it, Mr. Mind? The two of us were quite intrigued by the possibilities of a truly celestial physiology. We're all men of rationality of course, so we know that really, it's not all that special. Another dimension, another set of rules, of course, but immortals, gods, and angels have all become classified in due time. So, Ms. Deva, what do you think makes you any different really?" Madame Mode Mobius: "I will admit, of the 1031 subjects that have come through MurderDome under my suopervision, few show quite the level of promise you do in the area of organized antagonism. We'll have to study further, but while your self-analysis is questionable, an important skill to cultivate is going to be analysis of the non-self, and others. I hesitate to ask but I am sure you have an opinion on your own ability to do so, so please share it. Oh joy." Strain: "Your current meaty body thing that you have instead of a proper chassis seems to be a limitation on some of your operations. We could change that, you know. We have the technology. It's just a matter of asking, and we know that you know this. We know as well that you have not asked to do so. Do you think it's a limitation that we cannot overcome? Or do you have some other reason for not asking? Do tell." Bouncing Betty Dark Eagle: "I noticed that you have an eye for your peers. Maybe a little too much judgment, but you tried to make a real effort. That doesn't usually get rewarded around here, but some people notice, like me. It's people like you that can keep a team together. You're going to get betrayed by someone. Tell me truly, if you had to choose between the people you knew before you put on the mask, the people you have met here and will ally with, and the cause... Can you actually make the choice? How much are you really willing to give up?" Zapper: "You know, sweetheart, they're going to come for you first. They're going to see you as the weakest link. They're going to think you're the one they can push around, and get to use against the others... No, I don't mean the heroes. The heroes will go for the ones they see to be the biggest threat. That isn't you, to them. I mean the others on your team. You ready for that kind of life? You just got used before. It's gonna happen again in this line of business. Can you deal?" Silver: "I have a stack about six inches of complaints against your behavior, little miss... I like that. A team needs a little trouble to keep them on their toes, and maybe make sure they are not taking themselves too seriously. When all the chips are down there, and when the act is played out, what's left to you when you've betrayed them one too many times? What is it really that is going to keep you in their graces, if already they can't stand you?" Old Scratch Nadia: "Alright kid, let me tell you why you're in my camp: You don't belong here. You're not a real villain, point blank. You're just some drat millenial who thinks she can grab some more fun for her Instaclick or whatever. So you've got two choices: Scram while I'm in a good humor, or prove me wrong and put me in a bad one. I'm a gambling man... and I like my chances. So what's it going to be? How are you gonna prove me wrong?" Melody: "By the looks of your hands, I can tell you're a soft little birdie, never really worked a day in your life. Not that you have to with that spiffy little noggin power you've got going. Let me tell it to you plain: You're gonna start way down at the bottom with the rapscallions and reprobates like the rest of us. Your breeding won't mean much because it's the wrong kind. Druidess left a lot of enemies. They are going to want to use you against her... Who, me? Oh, she never told you, did she? Heh. Those were the days. Ah, but that was before you were even born. Maybe that'll put it into perspective. Your real history, Melody, Rose, whatever, starts here. You going to be a real pill like those aliens about it, or are you gonna do something the Fair Gents and Ladies would have been really proud of?" Blackguard: "Still not impressed, to be honest. How about you tell me what you know, so far? We're gonna run down the list. Maybe you're missing something. Maybe it was obvious all along... Or maybe you don't know bull. I'm not going to be the one to tell you that yet, but if you've actually got something, and I'll wager you do, then I'll make good on what I said. We have a deal?" Counter Culture Copycat: "Glad you're back here. I've been doing a little reading. You know, about Zookeeper and all that. The story checks out so far as the All-New Allstars are considered. But you know, Zookeeper isn't on the M.A.D.D. rolls. You know, he doesn't even have much of a CRISIS datafile except what's recorded about that one incident. Tell me, is the Zookeeper and the Superstitionist the same person? Are either of them even real? Don't answer that, here's a better question: Does Jailbird know what you're keeping from him?" Centipede: "I've talked to a lot of young people, and I just wanted to say, man, that you belong here. The real you. Once you're back out in the real world, where they want to put everything in a box, it's gonna become real painfully obvious they think of this, the mask, the suit, the name, as more or less a big joke. For some it is. Really though, it's a way to keep something inside of you alive. Let me tell you, M.A.D.D. has the best medical coverage in the whole world, and you want to know why? We're all afraid of dying, and missing out on what's going to happen next. What was it you were afraid you were going to miss out on, man? When he told you that? What is worth holding onto so bad?"  You’re seated here at this conference table, and he’s, well, fidgeting in that suit of his. The facsimile of a head on its side makes the conversation an exercise in the surreal, especially as his doddering is only accentuated as he pushes the tea towards you. “Um, so, you don’t really need to be so tense about this. It’s just standard procedure. Trust me, I’m the official counsel here. There’s nothing to worry about at all. Nope, nothing. In fact, you can think of this as the final stretch! Some consider that, you know, to be the most… important? Step. So I mean, sure, there’s a lot of pressure, a lot of attention on it but…” He leans back, tenting his fingers nervously. “OK, let’s get back on track. You’ve had some time to read over the contract. It’s all provided there by the Conclave the full terms of your enrollment, and will be valid until your year of majority… whatever that is decided to be. I know that ages can get a little strange, but we have reams of casework on trying to extend your minority as long as possible.” He lights up, as if expecting a question. “Yes, you see, the Youth Union is important to us because we are very fond of, er, juvenile offenders. The legal system is very forgiving in this, you see, even for supervillains! I know right, it’s crazy! Mad, if you will.” He laughs nervously, tugs at his tie and tightens it up and shuffles some papers. “Uh, so, you have to be legally a juvenile. We’ll take care of that, but it does mean establishing a legal identity. Now, this doesn’t need to be your alter-ego, but it’s gotta be some kind of name you’re gonna use. It’s gonna be on paperwork, and I mean, a lot of paperwork! Did they tell you about the paperwork? I mean, mountains of it! You better hire a department for that, really, it’s obscene. I tell them all the time we really should…” A few minutes of digression later, he’s showing you where this is all signed. “We need to know your official identity that will be registered with the Youth Union. This will in turn be the identity registered with CRISIS who accredits us. Yes, that means you’re in the system, but trust us, it means protection from real vigilantes. If you’re not accredited, well, we all know what the Hangman does to those he catches.” He lets out a single laugh, then leafs over. “Now as a minor, you’ll need a legal guardian. You’ll be assigned this guardian after orientation and you’re assigned into an alliance. They will be legally responsible for you which is an important component of this scheme, er, system.” “You’ll receive the full suite of benefits as well. Medical, dental, death and disability. All top of the line in any industry. Everything fully paid for, full stop. We take care of our own. There are options as well for asset insurances, as well as acquisition. Our minion agency is also top of the line, for when you need boots on the ground, but all of that, while prorated, comes at a price.” There is other benefits as well you can see, from the broad to the specific. Describe one of the benefits provided by your M.A.D.D. membership beyond the standard. Lord Playfair gets a little extra nervous (not that you’d tell without me pointing it out), before he gives the catch. “There is one last thing. It’s… um, a failsafe. A collateral. A, uh, clause that, er… Well, look, think about the kind of work we’re in. There’s a lot of exposure here, and ultimately, nobody wants the entire world to go up in smoke, not without everyone getting a fair chance to one-up it. Part of the accreditation process requires us to have on record… a weakness. An Achilles heel. A vulnerability or, yes, blackmail, that we can hold over you. Now, before you get defensive, or worse, clever about it, I assure you, we’ve already figured it out. That’s what the evaluations are for… I mean, in part. However, we need you to state it, and sign to it, to make sure it’s all above board… You can walk away now, of course, but… You know, benefits, accreditation, Hangman,” and then he makes a choking gesture with his tie upwards, pantomiming being hung. So, here it is. Describe one critical weakness of your character, or a piece of blackmail that could truly and materially stop you in your tracks. If you say something like “arrogance” or something that’s more a personality trait that’s general and not actual a weakness, that’s not a real answer. We’re looking for kryptonites and truly epic foibles, not peccadilloes and neuroses. “Now, you sign here, here, and here… Great.” The means of signing the contract, and the form of the contract, is unique to every villain. It might be a scroll with draughts of blood as ink, an electronic signature that burns your fingerprints with a tablet, or something else, but it does take some kind of personal part of yourself, and reflects your villainous nature. Describe the form your contract takes. Once it’s signed, it’s sealed. “Your application will be processed in… oh, uh, three months? Until then. Enjoy!” With little fanfare, a trapdoor beneath your seat matched with a powerful tractor beam sucks you in through a bizarre tube that moves through the inner works of the MurderDome, before finally depositing you in the wide acreage underneath the glassteel dome that is the common area, with some other confused and tentative villains. It takes a little while to sink in, but you realize that the rest of your orientation is not going to be classes and tests and being run ragged. No, it’s going to be more freeform, relaxing, three months within some of the best technology Y.U.M.A.D.D. has to offer, with free access to any of the previous facilities, and the means by which to hone, plan, and network in preparation for your debut after summer is over. In other words…  Describe how your character unwinds over their summer at MurderDome. Villains aren’t often as pressured by the same societal pressures, and you are given an almost anarchic free reign to organize, find shelter, and collude with your fellow “domers” and peers for the summer. It might devolve at times into a little bit Lord of the Flies, but that’s part of the… charm. You can leave much of this experience undetailed. It can be used to filter in your Relationships questions later after picks. Or you can use it to launch and create vignettes with other players, if you so choose. This is like a Prelude, Storyteller system style. Have fun with it, but only as much as you want to. Ultimately, I just want to know, when the capers are not going, and your character is given free reign, what do they do to unwind? And what do they do to In addition to this summer vacation, there are seminars, workshops, instructional videos and the like you can spend time with. Think about the memories you will take, the enmities you will create, and the impressions you leave behind. In addition to these, I have prompts for those who answered Stage I. Hartonn: At some point during the summer, you are informed by Madame Mode, accompanied by the Valets, that your parents are here to see you. It appears that ultimately they found out where you disappeared off to (Earth), and are providing you a means of connecting back to them. Do you take this up, or would it interrupt your self-exile? Do you try and act out in a particular way in response? And if you do go to “meet” them, how do you react to them not being in here in person, but rather using the Interocitor console to communicate with you across subspace? Kama: You really didn’t expect to see anything from, well, home for lack of a better term here. But you weren’t the only being to have fallen down here, it seems. There is an asura here among the other peers, who goes by the name Hungry Ghost. S/he hides behind a intricate wooden mask and wield a wooden sword, and balances upon tall wooden sandals with each movement, and apparently has some kind of power that allows her to “eat” color, which seems to translate to energy as total as everything around her becomes desaturated. Her very existence is something of an insult to yourself. Do you seek her out, ignore her, or trouble her? Or do something unexpected? Melody: One day, while you’re minding your own business, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. When you turn around, you don’t immediately see anyone until you look down and see a diminutive young girl, with almond eyes and long white hair decorated by two “living” skulls, who basically disappears into her thick black turtleneck. She appears to be quite unchuffed, and loudly declares, “Melody Skye-Edgars, you will rue the day you made an enemy out of me. I cannot forgive you, and will never let go of this hatred. Remember this, because this is the last time you will have the better of me.” Turning up her chin, she marches right on off. You have never seen this person in your entire life, but with some effort you can learn that her name is Lilith Chiu, known as Poppetmaster, who appears to be nobility from some dark dimension or another, but that does not explain this encounter at all… But given some time to think about it, maybe you’ll realize something to explain it. Centipede: One of the toughest things about this is you weren’t exactly expecting to have to pull overtime here in protecting your identity. However, what it does provide you is the chance to create a new one. Who is the person that the others at the camp come to know? Do you avoid them as much as possible, or indulge in this mask within a mask, creating a new identity for them to know you by that is neither Centipede nor your real self? And, well, what are you going tell the people from your actual life now that you’re stuck for three months in MurderDome? Mobius: You by nature are not likely to get along with the rabble here. They are all too often beneath your stature and means of thinking. Someone else agrees. “Is this really the best they can come up with? Tch, and you’d think all that training would actually whittle it down to something worth something.” Solitaire is a young man that like yourself seems to practice some kind of magic, summoning beings and powers (ironic to his name) using a deck of many wondrous things. He seems to scorn needing anyone’s help, and prefers to go it alone. Much in contrast to yourself, he has a somewhat laid back and unaffected cool about him. So, he’s either someone you hate immediately, or find somewhat intriguing. Which is it for you? Do you let your guard down around this guy who seems to respect you more than the rest, only to let that be used against you and validate your opinion to begin with? Do you push back, and alienate perhaps one of the few people that is “on your level” amid this whole pack? Copycat: Supernology, which studies the means by which all metahumans affect the world, understand that whether by galvanic science, hypertech, sorcery or inborn power, all superheroes tap into some basic cosmic forces. So I guess that’s why your power seems to work on just about everything? With some exceptions. Meet exception #13: Reynar Dean. Reynar is a bygone, which is to say, he shouldn’t exist, from one of the Green Worlds of fantasy like Faeryland. While many of the fae settled on our plane in Avalon and preserved themselves there by keeping the pretension of being normal. Reynar is doing the much the same, and looks just like a human, though with brilliant orange hair and green eyes. What is particularly interesting is that he is a perfect liar, and whatever he says seems to come true. Unlike manipulating fate, he challenges it, in a way that Jailbird cannot approach, in a way you cannot replicate. He can make almost cartoonish events, from falling pianos to walking on air happen, all through a sense of audacity. And he’s made it his mission to pester you, without any likely means for you to best and turn him away. Silver: Everything is going great, you’re having fun, and making a nuisance of yourself, when Counter-Culture tells you that he has a letter. It’s a letter from your father. You sometimes get these. They often are necessary for you because they let you get access to daddy’s bank accounts if you perform some small token action or make yourself known in some way. But this time, after everything that you experienced, this new lease… Are you going to open up that letter? If you do, what does it say? What does he want from you? And how does it make you feel? Strain: So… What about those nanites? They’ve got three months and a lot of time. You know that the systems are hardened. You know there will be layers of security. You know that if you screw up, you might get reprimanded. You might impress someone at the same time. So it’s a bit of a gamble. What exactly would they go looking for? Is it information, or subversion that your Contagion would be interested in? Give us an intimate view in how they work, and perhaps how they might affect organics as well as the digital. Twilight: You have a dream. This dream is not like any others you’ve had before it. You almost feel the presence of some design within it, like it was planted within you by another. It shows you what is about to transpire over the next few years, and the place in which your coming into majority plays within it. Gives us a view of the New Apocalypse, of how you represent a truly terrible force unlike any others might have had, and do this in contrast to all the fun and unwinding you’ve been having, a stark presentation of Doom and Fun. Nadia: You can raise all sorts of hell, and create all sorts of fodder for your followers here, though you’re cut off perhaps from a lot of the people and activities you’d want to be. Your phone though is your means to communicate with the outside world, and the signal is always crystal clear… Except one day, it is stolen! How do you deal with this? Do you know who did it, and if you do, how do you get it back? What is it like in the interim without that access? Do you make a drama out of the whole event, or try to pretend it never happened? Blackguard: You and Shadowboxer are asked to train together by Old Scratch as part of a special program for a few elite peers. It’s really only you two by the end of it that prove to have what it takes up to snuff. Shadowboxer proves that they have more than just the ability to manipulate shadows: They can manipulate others once their shadow is touched with another’s, thus counter and control their opponent’s movements! You realize that if you’re going to get anywhere, you gotta start coming up with some tricks of your own. Describe to us a training regimen, what is learned and what is lost, and why ultimately, you don’t succeed in surpassing your limits, this time around. Dark Eagle: Your entire life is now on hold for three months, and you had people who just thought you’d be away for a few days. What exactly do you tell your friends about where you are? What is it like being so separated from the “real world” which your cause is so grounded in? Everyone around here lives in such a fantasy world, and in this wicked wonderland it’s hard to really keep perspective too. Do you resent them for it, or do you identify with the need? Zapper: Remember Yellow Jumpsuit? That isn’t really his name, but that’s how you remembered him, all the way up to this agonizingly awkward moment where he’s asking you out. He says that even though you’re a “normie”, he thinks it might be cool if you like, y’know, hung out. This is being done by a rank amateur, but come to think of it you’re hardly a professional in this field yourself. Do you just reject him outright, try and get some revenge for the comment by some elaborate scheme… or do you like, actually give him a chance, opening yourself up for disappointment? And maybe actually learning his name.
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May 23, 2016 08:08
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 Jonathan mingled in the waiting area, chin held high and face twisted in a condescending sneer to let everyone know he was in the company of his lessers. This way he continued, until approached by Mode. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Madame Mode Jonathan's sneer transforms into a smirk, complete with a cocked eyebrow, as he responds. "I am a master of numbers, and of equations, Madame. And what is reality other than just that? What is a problem but an equasion to be solved?" Jonathan snorts dismissively, "If another person or thing is the right variable for an issue, I guarantee that I'll be the first one to spot it. Even if..." Jonathan's expression flattens ever so slightly "I'd prefer to be given inanimate tools to work with instead of people. The latter have a tendency to not do as they are told depressingly often. Makes using them more risky than might be necessary." Tricky Dick Nixon posted:
Jonathan sat through the lecture with an expression that managed to be both attentive and bored. He had his experience with slightly awkward professors droning on after all, but that had never stopped him from absorbing every word. He signed the papers with his real name, for he had no particular need to hide it, and his title as Möbius because he liked the sound of it. When the form asking for special benefit came, Jonathan was quick to jot down a request for special permission to M.A.D.D.s Planar Orrery. He knew they had one, and that it was normally off-limits to the Youth Union because of the power it held. But he was Special. He was a prodigy. Obviously they would make an exception for him. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Describe one critical weakness of your character, or a piece of blackmail that could truly and materially stop you in your tracks. Jonathan looked down at the question requesting the information, with some clear disdain. Well, it's not as if he had something to lose by stating something so obvious. He wrote: I am a topomancer. A simple statement, but one that explains much, at least to those in the arcane know. Because the fact remains, that despite Jonathan's protestations, the current Zeitgeist was no schmuck, and neither had been any of his office before him. And they took their job of guarding planar stability extremely seriously. It was a known thing, that topomancy and other space warping phenomena (both mundane and magical) created stress to the local fabric of spacetime, with enough such stress risking a Planar Destabilization Event. Now granted, a PDE required truly massive distortion to occur, but the Zeitgeists were not ones to gamble. Thus, during the ages, they had created a system of wards with the Iron Spire as their fulcrum. At certain, well documented levels (mere fractions of what was needed for a true PDE, again, the Zeitgeists did not gamble) of planar stress and shear the wards activated, and, let's just say 'punish' the one responsible for breaking the limits. Now it was true that with enough power and trickery the wards could be circumvented, but such always carried the risk of more... personal attention. What all this meant in practise was that all topomancers and similar spacetime warpers shared a common weakness. If they were to bring the total planar stress of the local area beyond the breaking point, the wards would punish them. This meant that a topomancer was actually a fairly good counter for another, since they could just saturate the area with enough distortions that any more casting would result in the wards activating (even though such would be a huge feat of power, most were not capable of such saturation alone). There are also rumours of devices and artifacts that could spin local spacetime, keeping the stress levels constantly JUST below the activation point, thus inhibiting casting. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Describe the form your contract takes. Jonathan placed the signed papers of his contract on the table, retrieved two simple silver chains from his robe as well as his compass from his belt, and started to mutter and incant over the papers whilst drawing a number of complicated sigils on them. After a moment, he placed the silver chains on the paper. The moment they touched their appointed places, the papers folded and twisted into themselves, forming impossible and constantly shifting shapes as parts of them crossed into our reality as they were partially on their way to others. Regardless of their strange forms, the strange shapes were always identical no matter how they twisted, and they seemed to affix themselves to the chains. "I have encrypted our contracts into this spatially entangled tesseract", Jonathan said as if he were stating the most obvious thing in the World, "These pendants are actually mere projections of the same object, just spatially focused on these silver chains so as to appear in two discreet location in this particular three dimension brane", he continued , "And should either side break the contract, it will shatter." Without further word, he took one of the pendants and pocketed it, leaving the other for Playfair. Not long after, he was whisked into the murderdome. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Mobius: You by nature are not likely to get along with the rabble here. They are all too often beneath your stature and means of thinking. Someone else agrees. “Is this really the best they can come up with? Tch, and you’d think all that training would actually whittle it down to something worth something.” Solitaire is a young man that like yourself seems to practice some kind of magic, summoning beings and powers (ironic to his name) using a deck of many wondrous things. He seems to scorn needing anyone’s help, and prefers to go it alone. Much in contrast to yourself, he has a somewhat laid back and unaffected cool about him. So, he’s either someone you hate immediately, or find somewhat intriguing. Which is it for you? Do you let your guard down around this guy who seems to respect you more than the rest, only to let that be used against you and validate your opinion to begin with? Do you push back, and alienate perhaps one of the few people that is “on your level” amid this whole pack? Jonathan glanced at the man, brows raised in idle surprise for but a second, before turning away once more, crossing his arms behind his back and responding. "Yes, it is all quite pathetic, is it not? Almost makes one worry about the sad state of things here when a good number of the actually accepted applicants have quite literally nothing going for them. Well, nothing except some foolish illusion that they can in any way compete with their betters. I hope they can at least perform as meatshields, to some degree." His diatribe over, Jonathan turned to face Solitaire once more. "You were... Solitaire, correct? A summoner with a material focus?" Jonathan nodded towards the deck. "An intriguing area of study", he notes dispassionately ,"with some parallels to my own topomancy, at least when used as breaching points for extradimensionals. Of course, that might not be how you do it..?" And so, the discussion veered into arcane detail. Jonathan did not really smile during the correspondence, even if he found it interesting. It was true that the attitude of Solitaire was a bit grating to say the least, but a grating attitude he could deal with. For Jonathan was perfectly capable of appreciating actual skill and talent (even if he would not admit Solitaire strictly his equal, he was still a good second best!) that had been hard fought and worked for, instead of born into. And, unlike some people he could name, Jonathan was willing to overlook personality flaw if talent was present. Theantero fucked around with this message at 23:07 on May 23, 2016 |
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May 23, 2016 13:04
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The Centipede's Big Break! After the performance of 'Day 1', Trevor had been expecting the worse to come when the next day had come and he would be getting his results. Meeting Expectations had been rather a surprise in that instance. And so he went to his meeting with Counter-Culture rather with as much spring in his step as he could get for a man who couldn't walk. Although he still unnerved him somewhat he was also very pleasant to talk to, like a coolest uncool uncle who was also incidentally one of the world's most dangerous villains. quote:Counter-Culture "Afraid to miss on? A lot of things sir, I was afraid I was gonna miss out on a lot of things." "I wanted to go to college; I wanted to go to space, I wanna go see all those new places we have only just discovered." He paused, Culture was giving him a look, he could see into his head obviously and there he saw the truth of the matter was much more personal. "Oh right, you can see the truth can't you. I... Wanted to see my brother fulfill his dream of being a great superhero if it comes to it. It's complicated alright, there are some days where god I hate his guts, where I wish I was the one with the healthy body instead of him, but..." He looks off into the distance above Culture's head. "I think he can do it, Dad was a good superhero, no he was a great superhero. But David has the potential to be better and I want him to succeed, I want him to get recognized for the hero he is, hell I think given a few more years experience he could become a Modern Marvel! When I knew I couldn't be a superhero anymore, I put all my personal hopes onto my brother and I wanted him to be to superhero I couldn't be. It makes me happy when he succeeds, and I don't feel happy often these days. I want that for him more then anything..." Trevor was silent for a few moments and a little voice in the pit of his soul said to the silence 'And I think he would get there, if I didn't hold him back.' --Later-- Lord Playfair posted:Words words words words words words 'I'm sitting here, in a place unironically called the murderdome, dressed up as a supervillain, talking to a lawyer with a holographic head whilst he talks legal jargon at me. And here I thought only superheroes had bureaucracy to deal with.' The name he had signed the documents as a juvenile with was Wilbur Whateley which was a name he always liked using personally when he needed a 'sock puppet' for off the cuff transactions during his superhero work. As for his official title well so far The Centipede seems to be what has stuck to him, and so The Centipede he would remain. quote:Describe one of the benefits provided by your M.A.D.D. membership beyond the standard. And, oh yes it was the one thing he had found when he had joined up that was something he considered extremely fortunate for him when he joined the organization. It came with extensive medical team, and with some quiet asking he had found that he could acquire the doctors and professionals he needed for the more 'difficult' aspect of his powers. It turns out he was not the only juvenile super-villain with powers that could potentially cause themselves harm if used incautiously (or even if used at all) and it was a relief to know that he could still get the treatment he needed for his medical condition without needing to go through the more public channels, with all the complications that would entail for a super-villain wishing to keep his alter-ego private. It wasn't going to cure him any time soon, but considering the alternative he would happily take it and be thankful for it. quote:Describe one critical weakness of your character, or a piece of blackmail that could truly and materially stop you in your tracks "Wait why do I have to state my weaknesses if you already know them, Is this another legal thing?" "Yes" "Ah, right." Weaknesses, right, well he knew that using his power wildly could put him out of commission for a while afterwards, or kill him if he really went whole hog with it. But that he felt was more of an occupational hazard then an actual weakness. And he already knew what that weakness was anyway. 'Secret Identity'. Now, Trevor was slightly annoyed by this, yesterday he would have been terrified, but now that he knew M.A.D.D would guarantee his privacy the idea of someone knowing his real identity didn't worry him as much. If anything he felt sort of annoyed that it wasn't really a secret identity anymore, a dark secret that can be easily accessed by the entire upper management of a huge organization really cheapened the entire mystery value when you got right down to it. It spoiled the tone of the whole thing. But which identity? It doesn't really matter. If his identity as The Centipede leaked out into the superhero world, he would be in trouble, CRISIS tends to look poorly upon super-villains that pretend to be heroes to claim it's benefits and he wasn't sure which prospect unnerved him more, a group of heroes sent after him, or a group of lawyers. Probably the lawyers, superheroes aren't allowed to kick you when you are down. Or, if his identity as Multiplex was leaked out into the supervillain world, then he would be in even more trouble. M.A.D.D would protect him from Vigilantes, and his privacy from other endorsed supervillains (at least he hopes so) but he wasn't sure if that protection extended to 'unsponsered' super-villains who get nine kinds of crap kicked out of the by David Likely as part of his day-job. People tend to hold grudges over stuff like that, and he didn't relish the opportunity of being a target during his 'part time job'. quote:Describe the form your contract takes. "Aight sure, just gimme the pen to-" An object was dropped into his hand. "What is this?" "Ah yes this is a device that I asked Dr Heart and Mr Mind to make up for this, it is a special blood analyzer that will register your DNA so that in the event of, defection, we can track you even if you were to say, change your entire body shape and move to a different country. And I am told it will even work with someone with a fluctuating DNA pattern like yourself. Just a precautionary measure you understand." Lord Fairplay leaned in towards Trevor "Between you and me it's just a modified glucose meter that he stuck some extra bits on, but Dr Heart gets very touchy about people pointing things like that out so don't mention this to him." He leans back. "Now, just put your finger on this part" "Ow." "Annnnd, right that's all settled with. Now we understand that you have special requirements in terms of mobility, so to ensure that this next part will not cause too much discomfort we will have some orderlies standing by." "Standing by for what?" And then the floor opened up under him. A descending bugger was all that could be heard from the hole. At least someone was there to put him in a wheelchair at the end of the drop. --- Trevor's Summer Vacation! quote:Describe how your character unwinds over their summer at MurderDome. quote:Centipede: One of the toughest things about this is you weren’t exactly expecting to have to pull overtime here in protecting your identity. However, what it does provide you is the chance to create a new one. Who is the person that the others at the camp come to know? Do you avoid them as much as possible, or indulge in this mask within a mask, creating a new identity for them to know you by that is neither Centipede nor your real self? And, well, what are you going tell the people from your actual life now that you’re stuck for three months in MurderDome? For the most part, his summer vacation was spent indoors. One reason for this of course, was the fact that was technically a terminally ill cripple who for obvious reasons, didn't get to take part in a lot of the more physical activities that went on during those hectic three months. Which was a bit of a blow if he was really honest, he would have liked to get happily ratted on a big blow out vacation, but it was against the doctor's orders. What can you do? And the other reason, was that during those tests on his first day, he realized that he wasn't as smart as he thought he was and if he saw any future in the super-villainy he would need to really shore up on the areas he was lacking in. So he spent that time fighting his own personal ignorance in the art of super-villainy, attending the classes to learn all those little basic criminal skills that anyone villain worth his salt should pick up on, and a few more regardless of that. And for this reason Wilbur Whateley got more use then just a convenient pseudonym because he moved in a lot of circles during that time, and went to a lot of classes. It was mostly because, well being 'in-character' throughout the entire vacation would have been a chore and it was just a small relief to let the mask drop for a bit, even if all that was underneath it was another mask. And one of the skills he had picked up during his tentative super villainy days and from workshops during those three months was the art of method acting. It was mundane but quite effective; a change of posture, a few facial features, and a few mannerisms and he wasn't The Centipede or Trevor Likely or Multiplex, but fidgety, nervous Wilbur Whateley, who never really fit in and felt awkward in other people's company. It was a very useful skill to have, for someone engaging in almost constant subterfuge and he would treasure it throughout his super-villain career. Perceptible weaknesses like this might have caused problems with some of the 'big boys', if he hadn't attached himself to one of the more powerful students to come out of the evaluations and pretended to be his lackey, whilst he hung out with him. Knobstradamus it turns out, despite being a right arrogant bastard with enough blowhard for a migration of whales wasn't much into the whole bullying people on a personal level thing that someone like that usually indulges. He was rather polite on that score, and Wilbur being in awe of such power fanned that bloated ego for all that it was worth and Wilbur in return wasn't the easy target a lot of people would have thought he was, a bit like a finless ramora attaching itself to a giant magical shark. As for his 'real life' well, he had a contingency plan for just such an occasion. Granted, he had intended to be able to use it in the event that they sent an actual superhero team after him and he needed to stay off the radar for a while, or if he was being hunted by some very dangerous buggers, or something else that required that not only The Centipede cease to exist, but for Trevor to have to take an extended leave out of state or even out of the country entirely, and having to bust it out so early for a surprise extended three month vacation was something that irritated him tremendously. Trevor for a brief spell had done some work experience in a CRISIS data management section, and had as a result access to some small parts of the system that most people did not. One of them were the invitation letters for Heroism Boot-Camps across the country for up and coming superheroes, rather like this one as a matter of fact but with more government funding and less teen boozing. So he had made a few official letters himself, with all the seals and official numbers and another fake name on the system that was changed to his actual name when he was ready to fire the plan. Then when the time came that he would need to disappear off the map for a few months, he would put through the letter into a convenient post box, and then make a phone-call which would go something like "David! I've been accepted into a HERO Boot-camp in *Really distant place that David wouldn't be able to get too without a long plane flight outside of his budget*, I may be some time but I'll keep in touch!" And then baring an occasional phone-call and some prepared pictures sent back they would be none the wiser. Granted the next time he needs an extended absence like this though, he would need to prepare something else. He didn't think this ruse would work a second time somehow. TheNabster fucked around with this message at 23:44 on May 28, 2016 |
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May 23, 2016 20:37
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 quote:Madame Mode What? How is that possible. Inorganic or not, she's still from a primitive planet. They should not have capabilities that exceed my own. I refuse to believe that is true and I will certainly not ask them to help! Besides, with all it's failings there's still a reason why I was injected into one of these people. I remember bits and pieces but my memory banks are partially corrupt. An artifact of corrupted memory banks. A stolen ship, exhilaration at momentary freedom from the oppression of constant data transfers from our progenitor clusters, suggestions of increasingly questionable ideas that culminated in this experiment. Surely it was to determine the viability of infiltration, yes? This body does produce a whole bunch of fascinating data though, especially sensory input. Not that I can tell Madame Mode any of that. "I'm still gathering data on this condition. It would be misguided to end the experiment prematurely." quote:Lord Playfair "This is ridiculous! I don't need any additional supervision." Okay fine, I don't want any additional supervision. "But I'll pick my own name if I can't use S.T.R.A.I.N. then. You can put down Nicky Newton for my civilian identity. I've looked through lists of your names and found this combination the least objectionable one." quote:Describe one of the benefits provided by your M.A.D.D. membership beyond the standard. Aha, there's the good stuff! Yeah yeah, medical and all that blah blah, who cares, legal protection and such. Access to salvaged materials! Such a short sentence hidden in all the other stuff. Of course it has all kinds of terms and conditions but what's important is that I get access to at least some of the stuff that gets picked up. Salvaged equipment, broken bits, stolen tech from heroes, pieces of wrecked vehicles, all the cool little toys that may or may not be good for something. I get to play with them under the condition that M.A.D.D. retains the right to any repaired stuff should they require it. I guess that's fair enough. Getting my hands on all kinds of different tech is what I really want anyway. If that means handing the occasional piece over then I suppose I can live with that. quote:Describe one critical weakness of your character, or a piece of blackmail that could truly and materially stop you in your tracks. People usually assume it's EMPs. Maybe because of media or because they don't understand Science. But this body provides pretty good insulation against those kinds of things. It's not entirely useless after all. It has it's own weaknesses but nothing out of the ordinary. But there's one thing that disrupts the communication between the nanites even when sheltered by layers of meat and that's certain frequencies of focused sonic waves. Not any old speaker of course, but a sonic pulse emitter set to the right frequency shuts down the technopathic field that keeps the nanites connected in the network known as me. It's a little disconcerting that they're asking for this kind of thing, but Madame Mode probably figured this one out already anyway. No point lieing about it. quote:Describe the form your contract takes. Finally, once all is said and done I pick up the contract in front of me. The piece of equipment, no doubt assembled by Madame Mode, looks like a regular tablet displaying the various legal yammering with a small section reserved as a fingerprint reader. As I place my thumb on it though I can tell that under the surface it's a small stasis chamber. A magnetic field traps the hundred or so nanites my touch left behind on the surface and pulls them in. A light on the contract flips from red to green and the sample of nanites is immobilized and frozen in stasis. I barely get time to wonder what they might want with those before the floor opens up and with a faint *fwoomp!* and a startled "What the hey!" I'm whisked away. quote:Describe how your character unwinds over their summer at MurderDome.  Counter Culture suggested I keep a journal as a means to explore how I feel about having a serious case of the meat-brains. That, of course, was a terrible idea. Coincidentally, I have realized I should keep an experimental notes. A lab journal of sorts. So... Dear Diary-Recorder This celebration of The Summer has gone pretty well so far. I'd planned to spend my time in the depository and seminars (just to see who around here still needs some help to get on my level, of course) and it seems I've picked up an assistant. Originally I was going to deem her a henchman but she's proven herself to be capable enough that I graciously promoted her. She's pretty good at digging through the heaps of junk in the storehouse and I don't risk getting hit by scrap metal when they open the chute to dump more stuff on the pile. Everybody wins. Oh yeah, her name is Zapper but for some reason she goes by Paola more often than not. Seems weird but maybe she's practicing her fake civilian identity? ANYWAY. Because I've had some help I found some time for recreating between being incredibly busy being a genius. Captain's Log, Stardate [awkward pause] 4 These pits of hot water are great! And by great I mean acceptable. Somebody brought fermented beverages and I believe they have compromised the meat-body's integrity. Especially the spatial-sensor seems damaged, because everything is kinda tilted and spinny. It was pretty cool when we rigged some old mech legs to the Tub of Bubbles and rode it around the camp though. Oh. Hang on, I think we just crashed into something. I'll finish this lateeeer! [sounds of people shouting and laughing over the noise of a large metal foot stomping through a wall] Day 27 We got one of the pieces of Archon tech working. Well, at least it powered on for about a second before it blew out the power conduit we hooked it up to and disintegrated. In related news, the pecking order seems to have been disrupted because one of the guys claiming to be in charge of the camp suddenly found his area without electricity. Oops. Mission: Camp Corruption I've been trying to gain continuous entry to the Dome's electronic systems, but their security is too good and I end up having to try and break in every time I try to access them. So I've been experimenting with physically introducing nanites in strategic locations to infiltrate their systems. It wasn't very successful at first because they only remain part of "me" as long as they're in range of my technopathic field, but I found a work-around after days of just wandering around and spreading them everywhere. Which, by the way, is exhausting because they only replicate inside my body and this dumb meat-suit gets tired when it has to work that much. But I noticed that those nanites that settled on any piece of tech that transmits a signal, be it wireless, radio, whatever, stayed in contact with me as long as I got a receiver set up. Right now it's just through a simple smartphone but it works just fine. I got remote access to a couple of areas. All the ones that settled on organic material though are dead. I'm not entirely sure why that is, but I suspect it's some kind of biological thing. Immune-response or something. I'm a Tinker, not a Doctor, damnit. Operation Busted The indignation! She's been humoring me!? That's embarrassing! Pathetic! Despicable! That drat Sphere-Brain has been keeping tabs on the systems I infected. She had a map. A map! That means she got into my nanites' transmissions and traced them all. I got hacked! How dare she!? She didn't even punish me, she just patted me on the shoulder and said "That would have been almost impressive had you bothered to secure their transmissions properly." Ugh! Atropha fucked around with this message at 22:14 on May 24, 2016 |
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May 24, 2016 00:09
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(oh god sorry, I completely forgot about this and didn't have it book marked)quote:Meeko: "My furry friend, are you in the right place? While I can see you are quite, what is it, Mr. Mind? Ah yes, 'rude with tude', this is after all for young villains. Do sciuromorphs such as your maniacal self measure their years different? Are you sure there aren't any innocent lagomorphs you could be terrorizing instead? quote:So tell us, how exactly do your powers or skills work? "While you may call me a Mad Scientist, which I am, having studied chemistry, physics and theoretical science since I was eight years of age, much of my skill comes in Mad engineering, like so" he says and pulls out a brief case, about the size of him that opens up to reveal a squirrel sized rifle that he fires off at a dummy, a green ball his shot out and thanks to the compact nature and pressure put on the green ball, sends the dummy into the wall and clings against it, solidifying. "Not only does it crystalize on the outside" he says and lightly taps on the crystaline shell, leaving a crack upon the shell "It also saps liquid from the victim, leaving them a mummified husk of their previous self" as it cracks the shell falls apart leaving the dummy, the green slime actually solidified too quickly and would not have done its job. Scarybagels !r 2d6+1 Krysmbot Scarybagels, 8+1 = 9 Scarybagels Freak Roll quote:Who is the other teenage villain you are matched up against? What kind of environmental setup or tilts are introduced during the match? Describe your character's strategy for overcoming their foe, whether or not it's actually successful. Scarybagels Rolling Danger Scarybagels !r 2d6-1 Krysmbot Scarybagels, 9-1 = 8 quote:So tell us, who is the person that you locked horns most with on the team, one-sided or not? (In this case, it can be a NPC or PC) How did you try to show them up? "Oh, its a synthetic life form, intriguing, maybe after these dumb tests are over I would be able to discuss things with them and perhaps study them, as it is in my best interests to make friends with someone today." He greets them with his usual style "Hello, I am Meeko, the smartest squirrel in the world, and dare I say the smartest being on this planet in general, I hope that we succeed in this course, though from the looks of it, it will be quite easy" he says, the bravado was thick, sure, but he felt it was necessary since he was always looked down upon. On the signal he ran forward watching was S.T.R.A.I.N. takes off and immediately trips over the trap laid in front of the starting line, a speed bump, and he skid face first in the ground below. He, however, quickly got up and ran forward, watching the ground for anything that will trip him up as well as taking care of the extra traps that might impede S.T.R.A.I.N. because to him these traps are mere childs play to the intricate plans that he can produce, so he goes far beyond simply disabling them, he goes and causes them to go affect the other teams behind him. Being small, way smaller than any of the others, the obstacles were a breeze for him to go under and with that got only few feet ahead of S.T.R.A.I.N. Scarybagels rolling trouble Scarybagels !r 2d6 Krysmbot Scarybagels, 10 = 10 quote:So tell us, what subject do you think your villain is best at? Worst at? An answer of "all of them" or "none of them" is acceptable, but make it interesting either way. Also let us know if you cheat, and if so, how. If you don't cheat, you'll be admonished afterwards by Madame Mode for not, though you are likely admonished if you get caught by another kid "Hrm..." I pondered as I chewed my pencil. Tricky question here. d_{n} = p_{n+1} - p_{n}; d_{n}^{k} = |d_{n+1}^{k-1}-d_{n}^{k-1}| and I need to prove it...wait a minute, this is Gilbreath's Conjecture...those bastards...this is flawed but I might as well...K≤n = 3.4x10^11, the argument is flawed and its obvious to anyone with a brain but dammit its the best I can do without years of research Scarybagels rolling superior Scarybagels !r 2d6+2 Krysmbot Scarybagels, 8+2 = 10 quote:So tell us, what part of you is remarkably well adjusted? For a villain, anyway. Counter culture begins the attack with an easy question "Do you feel well adjusted, tell me how does it feel in civilization" "Well, I am well mannered when I require it amongst the general populace, I don't feel it necessitates my control of the world if I make everyone feel ill at ease around me, that and I found that humans are more willing to accept a talking squirrel than someone outside their social tribes " Counter Culture continues to barrages Meeko with a variety of questions, trying to get a response, trying to break him, until he gets to meeko's mother. "YOU LEAVE MY MOTHER OUT OF THIS!" He says slamming his tiny first into the desk, "MY MOTHER LOVED ME, EVEN IF SHE ABANDONED ME AFTER NURSING ME UNTIL I COULD EAT SOLID FOODS! EVEN IF SHE WAS A NORMAL SQUIRREL AND FEARED MY INTELLIGENCE, I KNOW MY MOTHER LOVED ME ENOUGH TO LET ME DO WHAT I NEEDED TO DO!" Counter Culture got in, even surprised to see him continue onto a different tangent "I mean...squirrels...they always run away from me...I guess I am a bit of a mutant freak, but they wouldn't understand I am doing what I am doing for their kind...." Scarybagels rolling menace Scarybagels .roll 2d6+1 skybot Scarybagels: 4 (2d6+1=2, 1) Senior Scarybagels fucked around with this message at 06:31 on May 24, 2016 |
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May 24, 2016 06:26
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Old Scratch "First of all, I'm too white to use Instagram. And uh I resent that. I passed all the tests. And, I'm great at crime. Look I'll commit crime right now." I pull off my shirt and yank down my skirt, and throw them on the table. "Oh dear god it's a pervert! Someone protect the children!" I continue the mock outrage voice but start playing with my phone. "Look at her minding her own business. She's a menace to society. Won't someone please stop her?" I sigh, realizing I'm taking this opportunity to rant about something mostly unrelated. "Well gramps don't worry I'm not banking on you being a prude to impress you with my trangressive aptitude." I stretch my arms. "I just like to be uncomfortable when I do serious work. I'm sure you can sympathize you got a pretty nasty skin condition yourself." "So how's Leah doing?" That got his attention. He was trying to look decidedly unimpressed before, more so than how he started. I rest my feet up on the table and kick off my sandals. "She's your... great grand daughter? Well at least you put it to some use before you last it, yeah?" I yawn. "So she's a nurse. That's nice. I don't think her bosses would like these comments about Muslims and Mexicans. And losing a job is really harsh when you've just been flagged for an audit." I hacked into her facebook and made some colorful comments, the bank thing I'm bluffing on but he doesn't need to know that yet. I also use a proxy account to loose the savage dogs onto any online presence Old Scratch might have and anyone he cares about. Seems like the facebook he does have is some token account to keep in touch his his family. So the cyberbullying will mostly be on them. I'm not happy about collateral damage but civilian casualties are a fact of war. Besides she clearly knew the risks when she was conceived in vague relation to this guy who would triple dog dare me. While he's staring me down I remotely factory reset his iphone. I still can't believe they let you do that so easily. Haha. I mean yeah I get why, but it's way too easy for trolls. "Having trouble checking your contacts, huh... that's weird." I have a poo poo eating grin. The phone number is the same of course so the prank calls start flowing in. He tries to threaten a few but that only emboldens them. I mean, good luck rear end in a top hat they're behind seven proxies! When he finally mutes his phone I ask, "So was that enough or should I start like actually changing numbers in bank accounts? You know what? It doesn't matter. A glowing report of me has already been submitted." I have a disgusting smile and add in a sing song voice, "Thanks buddy!" I grab my shirt. "Alright I'll stop messing around." I press execute on my phone for one last program. His phone overheats until it explodes. "The aristocrats!" I throw up jazz hands. -------------- M.A.D.D. also provides Nadia with a network and rig to really let her skills grow beyond her previous limits. All the basic bells and whistles of multiple monitors and top of the line hardware. It also is rigged with a station to feed programs into devices, allowing for more complicated hacking tools than her jury rigged phone app. Nadia is also provided with a list of proxies and tor servers to snoop and communicate away from prying eyes. Other than the obvious weakness of not being super human, Nadia has sensory processing disorder. Select materials are intensely uncomfortable for her. She hates denim, and loathes wool. She is also protective of her friend Lisa, who moonlights as Melisa the Witch. She was careful not to out Lisa as Melisa during the interviews, and their friendship could be used against her. Nadia signs electronically, of course. With a stylus like a cheap convenience store credit card panel. ------------- I basically go loving insane when I don't have my phone. Computer access is limited and if I can't keep up with the crew threads what's even the point of living? Everyone in the dome is loving lame and barely worth talking to. I mean Jackie is okay. She's sort of mad about what happened? As long as I don't let anyone know how/that I completely owned her we're cool. She even lent me her phone so I could use it to find mine. The doofus that swiped it didn't turn off the gps so it was pretty easy to locate. Silver, what's her name, thinks she's slick. Tried to give me a taste of my own medicine and make some posts under my name. Well I'm mildly impressed she got through my phone unlock. So I decided to play her game back at her. Let's see how long until she notices all her photos were replaced with horse porn. In and out like a bandit. While I had no end of bitching when the phone was missing, because loving hell that was boring without it, I kind of shut up once I had it back. That was the important part. And I didn't want what's her name suspecting anything. Not until she couldn't do anything about then. Then she'd be really owned.
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May 24, 2016 16:28
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quote:Bouncing Betty Paola feels the sting of shame as she hears the advisor's words, but she can't blame Bouncing Betty for making this judgement call. The ex-officer is actually being even too kind with her: her perfomance in the tests has been downright embarassing. Yet she keeps her expression carefully neutral; back when she was trying to sell her inventions, she learned to mantain a good poker face, especially in formal situations like this one. "Ma'am, I know I am better than this. I realize you have no reason to believe this, nor do any of my future colleagues. But the important thing is, I know it; I am sure enough of it that I joined a villaionous organization over it." But even as she speaks, she realizes that this is not exactly true. Yes, she is sure of her talents as an inventor, but she just assumed that they were going to translate just as well into a villainy. Perhaps it was not so smooth a transition? Still, she continues. "I will just have to prove it on the field, and if in the meantime they think can take advantage of me... well, I can take advantage of that." A shiver of something resembling anticipation waltzes over her spine. Yes, she likes the sound of that. quote:Lord Playfair legal extravaganza Satisfied, she returns to her desk, where she studies the little tablet on which the contract is written on. It is remarkably standard form for a contract made by an organization such as this. Medical and dental coverage, yes, yes, all very good... but it's the access to the Salvaged Materials Room that really catches her eye. That's where all the detritus of the advanced experimental tech, both mundane and mad, is discarded to: all kinds of inventions considered too obsolete or battle-damaged to be of any use for their creators, from damaged mech or spent raygun to spent fusion reactors and malfunctioning portal generators end up there. Even the scrap of the greatest geniuses in the known world could be a treasure in the hands of someone with the know-how to use it appropriately. Of course, she also hads to mention that whole "unspeakable weakness" before she can enter. She wonders if they really have already figured it out or if this was a clever ploy to get them to reveal their weak points. Whatever the case may be, she's pretty sure Playfair is going to recongnize any lie she could probably fabricate, so she might as well spell it out. "I don't have the firepower to directly take down an heavily-armored, electricity-insulated foe. The only thing I have that can take care of such an opponent are my powered tools, and I sincerely doubt that my future adversaries are going to just stand there as I work them over with my drill. Given the materials of the average combat armor as worn by heroes with enhanced strenght such as Gladiator or Lamorak, I calculated tha tit would take me about five minutes to penetrate it with the tools I have now. Far too much in a combat scenario." My, but this contract really is surprisingly clear and standard, of the sort that... ...that you'd expect to see in a big firm. The kind of firm that refused to purchase her technology. In fact, she had studied some contract models that looked pretty much like this one. Paola bit her lip again. She had shared what had caused her to join the ranks of Y.U.M.A.D.D. (although she had been vague about who exactly had wronged her) so no big revelation there. The question is, what message are they trying to send? That they are the answer to her needs, the ones she is looking for? That would be awfully conceited of them, but not entirely out of character. She knows that there is no going back if she signs now. She has already reflected on this, and reached the conclusion that this is the only way that she will have what she needs and deserves. But then, why is she hesitating. She swallows hard, grabs the stylus and signs her name, her names, Paola Castillo and Zapper on the touch-sensitive surface of the tablet. And just like that, it is done. quote:Paola's Summer Chronicle of Science and Discovery: Part 1 Days 1-2: If I am going to sharpen and improve myself into the villain I need to be, I need to get ready. Step one: improve gear. Covering one's weakness is all well and good, but better yet in capitalizing on one's strenght.So, after finding a room close enough to it, I finally got to punch my Y.U.M.A.D.D. card into the reader and entered the Salvaged Materials Room. It really is a thing of beauty. It is immense, an immense room full of scrapped inventions and semi-destroyed equipment, waiting for the salvaging. Moving walkways slowly deposit new stuff into the room, only for it to be distributed by drones (the drones! Walkers and jetpack flyers and some sort of simian-inspired-no, focus on one thing at a time for now), by drones, as I was saying, into various piles. The logic of which object goes in which pile is not immediately obvious, but really, who cares? This is like being a kid in the candy shop again, except the quarters Papa gave me are a Swiss bank account and the candy needs some reverse engineering before I can enjoy it. My set of MG-powered tools removed panels, sawed chassis and unscrewed screws for hours at an end; I had to substitute the blade of the saw three times before I managed to find the wreck of one-man jet-powered contraption which judging by the Raygun aestetic used to belong to a guy called the Maverick. Can't say I'm too fond of that style, can't stand those retro-futurstic stuff, but I was able to convert the engine into a makeshift jet forge. All it took was some creative redirecting of combustion, no big deal, really. It took me a whole afternoon and a couple of tries (eyebrows grow back, right?), but after that I could smelt away the most resistant material, and shape it with a bit of old fashioned smithing into new blades and tips for my tools. Still not strong enough to work my way through combat armor, though, I remember thinking as I worked. No big deal. I will find a way to work around that as well. It was as I was testing my new tools on a crab-shaped automated combat walker (Yokoyama MDL Kanikani 28bis, armed with torpedoes, built to withstand ocean pressure) that I met Strain. She wanted to get the walker's CPU for one reason or another, and I said sure, that's not the part I'm interested in anyway.She huffs a bit and tells me to hurry up already, she doesn't intend to let the natural inefficiency of a meatsack get in the way of her work. Oh great, she's one of [i]those[i] villains, you know the kind? The ones that like to talk about how much greater and more powerful than everyone else they are, and how we should all get in line to kiss their boots. There's actually quite a few of them already in this class, like that Harry Potter kid. So I get what I need out of the robot and let her have at it. She walks over, touches it and pours a bunch of nanites over it. Man, those things are neat! They chewed through the external armor and flew the thing over to somewhere. Sensing an opportunity, I stalked her through the deposit. She didn't notice me, at least I don't think so, since she led me straight to a robot she was building using parts from all over the place. They were fused together so seamlessly, I don't think I would have even gotten that it came from different parts if I dind't recognize some of the original models. The robot itself, though... Man, she does not know the first thing about robot design. Talk about less than the sum of its parts, that thing is barely going to be able to sustain its own weight, let alone actually do something. I told her that, and I think she jumped a little, but her expression remained neutral so I am not sure. Anyway, I gave her some tips about reconfigurating the whole thing, and she pulled the "this was all a test to see if you were a worthy assistant, congratulations you passed" thing that villains do when they need to salvage their bruised egos. For now I'm gonna roll with it, mostly because I like her nanites and who knows, maybe I'll have an occasion to reverse engineer them. paradoxGentleman fucked around with this message at 09:19 on May 25, 2016 |
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May 24, 2016 21:55
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There is a room There is a file, it has a small combination lock on it. The lock is undone. It has another keyhole lock on it. This is undone too. Inside is a file, it says 'Summer Project, Observations on Supervillains' "Ming the Merciless" Hartonn is a straight up space alien, can you believe that poo poo? I feel like I should be worried that he came here for the purpose of world domination, if it wasn't for the fact that he seemed to be intent on doing it on his own. I'd give him 30 minutes if he actually declared war on earth before a CRISIS taskforce inserts a space-boot up his space arse. Not too much of a problem. "Kali" Jitendra Devar, I am legitimately terrified of what I am seeing here, and I ain't touching that poo poo with a 10 foot pole. That lady looks like the kind of trouble I do not want on my quiet summer vacation, mostly because she could bend me into a pretzel. And that is weirdly attractive to me which is even worse. "Morgana Le Fey" Alright so apparently fairies are real and they are pretty powerful and this girl is technically royalty, come to think of it the last two were also royalty, and here I thought I had a pedegree. I got as far as the name learning the name ''Melody' and then stopped because I think she started giving me a look. Note to self, train mind against mind readers, put in practice with Counter Culture. "The Dunwich Horror" This page seems to be missing "Rincewind" I have observed the man known as Johnathan Grayscale and have concluded thusly. The man's an absolute tit who isn't as smart as he thinks he is. Oh he can talk backwards and forwards about magic and magic accessories until the universe reaches it's early heat death from sheer boredom, but other then that I think someone could run rings around him if they had half the mind to. I don't want to do that just yet though I like his company. "Catwoman" You know I have looked almost anywhere and this person doesn't even have a name. I am astounded, even god beings from distant worlds have names that I could find with careful questioning but this person doesn't seem to exist on any records. I'll watch with interest, not too much interest though, I have an allergy to cats and sudden spurts of bad luck. "Harley Quinn" There is a hand written note, it says 'Stop reading my papers Silver!' There is another note in different handwriting that says 'No'----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "T-1000" It's a Robot. Actually I have found that technically, it's a robot virus in a human host, with an attitude problem, and a huge ego. Amazing how AI has advanced to the point of actual human things like 'Arrogance' and 'Superiority Complexes'. I don't particularly want what she has though, I have my own medical problems to deal with without a robot infection on top of it. "Raven" My dad once told me 'Son, don't go anywhere near anything to do with the demonic. Or anything that features anything like 'Shadow' or 'Void' or 'Nether' or anything else of that kidney, because stuff that comes from that place is super bad news' Well actually he didn't but it's what I told myself. So long story short I am putting this one under the 'Don't touch that poo poo' list with the God Robot and the Deathlord. "Barbie" There is a very good reason why I keep most of my important documents on paper instead of on a computer somewhere, and also a good reason why I don't have any social media pages whatsoever. I mean I didn't even need my various channels to look into this one, I just had to check her twitter account. I know a lot of things about her and most of those things are pointless drivel and a complete waste of good paper, so I won't go into detail "The Lich King" See papers "Kali" and "Raven" for my combination opinions of not touching things belonging to people who can punch my spine out through my chest, and/or people who have been in close contact with horrible inter-dimensional death gribblies from other worlds. I am pretty sure she could crush me with her bare hands, and that this upsets me greatly. "Hawkgirl" Oh dear lord this one's a 'Rebel with a cause'. And she has superpowers to smash the system with and that's all well and good but... Well people who smash the system never quite realize why said systems were there in the first place, and when you kick the foundations out and don't prop them up with something else, well that is what we call in the business a 'complete and utter loving disaster' "Q" I sit next to this person in applied Evil Electronics class and, you know what I like her, I like her a lot. I dunno if it's a like like, but it's a hey I see you are doing what I have been doing as well for similar reasons can we hang out like friends like with additional flavours of please miss you're the most normal person here who won't talk down to me. And also she knows a lot about the stuff I am struggling with, that's always a big help. "Conker" I swear to god one more speech about your latent superiority and I will give you such a kick, you lippy little bugger. I will get up out of this wheelchair Strangelove style, and hobble my rear end over there just so I can punt you out that window, you'll see. TheNabster fucked around with this message at 11:34 on May 28, 2016 |
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May 25, 2016 18:39
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 Silver smirks as Madame Mode enters the room with a stack of paper in her hand. quote:Silver: "I have a stack about six inches of complaints against your behavior, little miss... I like that. A team needs a little trouble to keep them on their toes, and maybe make sure they are not taking themselves too seriously. When all the chips are down there, and when the act is played out, what's left to you when you've betrayed them one too many times? What is it really that is going to keep you in their graces, if already they can't stand you?" "Ooh, can I have those? Probably going to frame them. I mean, it's not like you guys are gonna anything about it. Hah, what's left to me? Fat stacks of money, that's what. You know why. And with that money, and my powers. I'll bail them out. Make them owe me. Make them dependent. They'll be boiling with anger, but unable to do a thing about it. Oh, it's gonna be great. quote:Describe one of the benefits provided by your M.A.D.D. membership beyond the standard. Wuuuh--? Sorry, stopped paying attention halfway through. Legal talk is booring. Something about a fake civilian identity? And a legal guardian and bla bla bla. But hey, at least I know what to name myself! Whitney Whateley. ... What? You're saying that's awfully familiar? I have no idea what you're talking about.  Can't wait for Centipede to find this one out. Also I got myself special access to high-end equipment. See, time control is really awesome. Buuut if someone can deal with it I'm kind of as tough as a normal person which isn't the greatest. So I might as well take some goodies with me. You know, Smoke bombs, tasers, knives... all that good stuff. quote:Describe one critical weakness of your character, or a piece of blackmail that could truly and materially stop you in your tracks. Me simply hands him the letter from her father. "This should do, yes? Don't worry, I already answered it. quote:Describe the form your contract takes. A standard contract. Nothing fancy. Looks nice, and is easy to burn in a hurry, which is the more important part. quote:Describe how your character unwinds over their summer at MurderDome. Silver sits on a random bench, stretching her legs out onto the table, because obviously. In her hands are the complaint files from Madame Mode. She reads them with glee. "Hah, check these out. 'Was mean to me.' 'Stole my phone'... Oh, hey, that's Nadia. 'Stuck a kick me sign onto my back'. 'Tried to flush me down the toilet.' Oh, that's the squirrel. Gaah, turns out reading it matter of fact is really boring. Wanna go party?" quote:Silver: Everything is going great, you’re having fun, and making a nuisance of yourself, when Counter-Culture tells you that he has a letter. It’s a letter from your father. You sometimes get these. They often are necessary for you because they let you get access to daddy’s bank accounts if you perform some small token action or make yourself known in some way. But this time, after everything that you experienced, this new lease… Are you going to open up that letter? If you do, what does it say? What does he want from you? And how does it make you feel? 'Oh, come the gently caress on. How the gently caress did he get a letter HERE!? Of all the places!? Ugh. Fine.' Against her urges, she decides to read the letter. Letter (The one handed to Lord Playfair) posted:Hello, Priscilla. ... for a moment, Silver lost her trademark grin. Yami Fenrir fucked around with this message at 05:18 on May 27, 2016 |
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May 26, 2016 17:47
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Dark Eagle - Prologue Part 2 - Groundedquote:Dark Eagle: "I noticed that you have an eye for your peers. Maybe a little too much judgment, but you tried to make a real effort. That doesn't usually get rewarded around here, but some people notice, like me. It's people like you that can keep a team together. You're going to get betrayed by someone. Tell me truly, if you had to choose between the people you knew before you put on the mask, the people you have met here and will ally with, and the cause... Can you actually make the choice? How much are you really willing to give up?" I'm ready for this question, of course. I'd have been an idiot not to. If Betty thinks I reply too fast, too readily, there's only a raised eyebrow to show for it. "I'm willing to give up anything. My... friends wouldn't miss me, ultimately. They might miss Leila, but... that's not really me. As for my allies, if they come between me and my cause... absolutely. I'm sure they'd all make similar calculations too. But." I pause for effect. "I'm not looking to burn bridges. I'm not a complete zealot. I'm willing to endure some short-term setbacks in the name of team cohesion." It all sounds very smooth when I say it to her. But as the days unexpectedly drag on, I find the question more and more troubling... quote:Describe one of the benefits provided by your M.A.D.D. membership beyond the standard. "Uh, that applies to any pets or companions or... animal or otherwise non-sapient biological minions." "Minions?" I don't like that word. Sundown is not my minion. "Cats off the street don't count I'm afraid." Playfair actually shudders. "You have to register the animal in question in advance, and demonstrate that they've been of material assistance to your villainy... I think. I believe added metaphorical or visual impact counts as material assistance, so make of that what you will." He gives a noncommittal shrug. "Honestly, it's not really my department..." quote:Describe one critical weakness of your character, or a piece of blackmail that could truly and materially stop you in your tracks. quote:Describe the form your contract takes. I blink, and the moment's gone. It's oddly reassuring to be faced with Playfair's bizarre 'head'. This is different, I tell myself. My terms, my rules. I can walk away any time. There's an old-fashioned inkwell but no pen. I pause for a second, then Sundown hops over. I take one of her feathers and use Playfair's fancy letter opener to fashion it into a crude quill. My signature comes out angular and illegible. Sundown could probably have done a better job with her claw. quote:Dark Eagle: Your entire life is now on hold for three months, and you had people who just thought you'd be away for a few days. What exactly do you tell your friends about where you are? What is it like being so separated from the real world; which your cause is so grounded in? Everyone around here lives in such a fantasy world, and in this wicked wonderland it's hard to really keep perspective too. Do you resent them for it, or do you identify with the need? A week or so of that, and I've reached two important conclusions. First, this isn't really nature. There's wifi coverage every you go, for crying out loud. There's only a few species of birds, and I'm pretty sure they've been genetically modified to hell and back. The water's clean, there's food to be foraged everywhere. Which is good, because second, nature is awful. It's just too quiet. I'm used to being alone, but not to being isolated. It's my separation from the real world that stings the most. On Day 4, I read that thanks to a carefully overlooked clause in the original contract, the apartments they're building over the old orphanage only have to be 'affordable' in the most impossibly technical sense. Another day, another injustice, but here there's nothing I can do except seethe. I tell my friends I'm at a camp. At first, they think it's some ridiculous summer camp, then I accidentally convince them I'm learning how to make bombs and shoot RPGs, then they stop asking. It gets added to the list of things we can't talk about. And there's always that unspoken question, what about Dark Eagle? The few amateur blogs out there keeping track of my activities stop updating. The world keeps on turning, and it leaves me behind. I come crawling out of the forest after a few weeks, unable to bear it any more, and of course the first thing I run into is a party. A bunch of kids drinking and laughing and dancing. I manage the first two, at least. And the horror of it is, it's not so bad. I could get used to it. Messing around with Copycat and Silver and the other clowns... it's a welcome distraction. Why can't I be allowed to have a little fun? Because. Because I absolutely cannot become like them, only caring about expanding their personal bubbles over the world. Because some of them might be fighting by my side, and some of them might be preparing knives for my back. And the more I come to understand their point of view, the harder it'll become to choose between them and what I really believe in. At last, I establish a pattern of sorts. Spend a few days in the wilderness, working out new instructions for my birds. A few days in the simulations and assault courses. Spar with Blackguard a bit - I was right about her being a kindred spirit, although she's way out of my league as far as combat goes. Let my hair down for a night or two, figuratively. (If it were long enough to let down, I wouldn't be able to put the helmet on.) Rinse, repeat. Try not to think about the real world. That parade of misery is going to keep marching on, so does it really matter when exactly I pick up the beat again? Gato fucked around with this message at 00:27 on May 29, 2016 |
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May 26, 2016 23:52
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I'm going to make my picks late on Sunday, I think. No huge rush for people to get stuff in, all the prompts were optional, but want to give fair warning.
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May 28, 2016 07:22
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quote:Paola's Summer Chronicle of Science and Discovery: Part 2 Meeting Strain reminds Paola that there is, in fact, more of the facility than just the SMR, which she proceeds to visit and frequent. She joins summer courses of Fatal Furtivity and Evil Electronics; "These plays on words are getting more and more forced", she comments to the person sitting next to her at EE, that Wilbur boy with the wheelchair, who is incredibly well adjusted given the powers he has. They end up getting along well enough, and sympathize with having an acquaintance that is convinced they are superior to anyone else. She finds Centipede's lackey act a bit unseemly for an up-and-coming villain, especially since Knobstradamus, as Wilbur once called him, had a stick so far his own rear end it was constantly poking what he ate at lunch; but she imagined an evidently sick guy in a wheelchair would be the perfect target for bullies. You gotta do what you gotta do to survive out there, regrettably. Between these courses and Caper Cultivation and Execution workshops, she hangs out at the bar/cafeteria, which while perfectly automated and capable of creating the most bizarre combination of drinks to accomodate the needs of different inhuman biologies, funnily enough still won't serve them alcohol. Everyone agrees that this is bull, and clandestine brewery projects spring up like mushrooms. Sensing an opportunity, she offers containers salvaged from the SMR for their experiments in exchange for one or two batches of the finished product. She's not sure if she actually would like to drink them, but you never know, they might come in handy, if nothing else because everyone likes the girl who brings the booze at the party. It is right after she is finished haggling with one such group of wannabe smugglers and she is enjoying a smoothie in peace that Yellow Jumpsuit makes his move. quote:Remember Yellow Jumpsuit? That isn’t really his name, but that’s how you remembered him, all the way up to this agonizingly awkward moment where he’s asking you out. He says that even though you’re a “normie”, he thinks it might be cool if you like, y’know, hung out. This is being done by a rank amateur, but come to think of it you’re hardly a professional in this field yourself. Do you just reject him outright, try and get some revenge for the comment by some elaborate scheme… or do you like, actually give him a chance, opening yourself up for disappointment? And maybe actually learning his name. For exactly half a second, Paola's brain freezes completely. Then, it goes into overdrive. He's asking me out. Why is he asking me out? Last time we interacted he called me a normie, hell, he is still calling me a normie! Also I had that obstacle smack him in the face. Why would he want to hang out with someone who did that to him? What does "hanging out" imply here? Oh god, what if he's into being smacked in the face? No, stop that, breathe. Regain composure. This line of thinking doesn't help. Focus. What reason could he have for asking me on a date, since we barely interacted and even then not in the best circumstances? The answer hits her mind like a jackhammer. They're going to see you as the weakest link. They're going to think you're the one they can push around. As she gets handle on the situation, she regains her composure. She takes a long sip of her smoothie, looking him up and down with a critical eye. Jumpsuit fidgets. He's about to say something when she speaks. "Hung out, uh. Yeah, sure, we can hang out if you want. Nothing wrong with some innocent hanging out, right?" He brightens a bit, he nods. She smiles. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, we were a bit... preoccupied, you know." She considers giggling. She decides that certain lines ought not to be crossed. If you think you can make a fool out of me, you've got another thing coming, mister. When the right time comes you'll realize this the hard way.
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May 28, 2016 10:56
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Interview with Old Scratch #2 So, turns out I must have done something right, because I get a follow-up interview with Old Scratch. Must admit, I was a little on edge, visions of them coming for me in the night, performing experiments on me, dumping me in a hole with all the other applicants that failed in my head. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was once again locked up in a place where... people wanted to poke at me. See what makes me tick. But it's fine. Interview with Old Scratch again. Some of the faces from the first time are missing, but, whatever, right? Old Scratch posted:Still not impressed, to be honest. How about you tell me what you know, so far? We're gonna run down the list. Maybe you're missing something. Maybe it was obvious all along... Or maybe you don't know bull. I'm not going to be the one to tell you that yet, but if you've actually got something, and I'll wager you do, then I'll make good on what I said. We have a deal? “Okay. So. The obvious. Black ops outfit. Must have some sort of tracking of people with...” I wave my hand around. “...potential. How they found me. Experimenting on people. Think they're helping them, but that doesn't mean poo poo. All sorts of freaks and me just one piece in that collection.” I lean forward. At least I have that loving impulse under control to want to corner, intimidate him, because that is just idiotic. And in a way, I like Old Scratch. “Like I said, that's the obvious. Now, that's just your standard secret black ops outfit poo poo. What isn't is...” Should I tell him? Ah, gently caress it. Who else am I going to talk to? And so what if he's playing me, leeching info off me? “...well, I saw some slides in some meeting room, was hiding out while escaping. Now turns out that in the 80ies there was a female undead villain, Deadgirl, kind of a bruiser. Sound familiar? Her old stats are on one slide and one the next some corporate buzzwords like 'reboot', 'darker and sexier' and, now that poo poo's interesting, some legalese about retaining established legal privileges.” I roll my shoulders, gently caress if anyone thinks I'm stupid. I keep going. “Same thing for some of the freaks I ran in that place. So. Maybe some of the old villains could get legal stuff you can't get anymore today, some loopholes fixed. Lot of those guys aren't active anymore, so, somebody thinks, those legal exemptions are just lying around. So they 'reboot' these villains and somehow transfer the legal poo poo to the new versions. And.” I shrug. “I'm no lawyer. But if I had to make a guess based on how things work around here. For them to 'transfer' the rights to a new version of a villain the original version would need to be...” I move my thumb across my throat. “...not around anymore.” Lord Playfair's Legal Extravaganza Oh what the gently caress. This is what I mean by kind of liking Old Scratch, because I'm pretty sure this 'Lord Playfair' is trying to gently caress me over. Or well, trying to gently caress somebody over and I can just hope I come out ahead. I breathe in. I'll just have to get through this. If he wasn't trying to be so, what, non-threatening, I could maybe trust him more but as it is? I'm pretty sure one of these days I am going to learn some real interesting things about the fine print of the contract I know I am going to sign. Lord Playfair posted:Describe one of the benefits provided by your M.A.D.D. membership beyond the standard. So, if I need it... I can get a room just above the M.A.D.D. Interrogation facilities, with visitor's privileges. I am not going to tell them that, but I'd rather not have to fall back on that. I'd rather deal with it another way. But still, it's good, it's a fallback option. Lord Playfair posted:Describe one critical weakness of your character, or a piece of blackmail that could truly and materially stop you in your tracks. But they want something concrete, and it says something about my loving life that the thing that I write down can be considered 'concrete'. “If the knife I was originally killed with is given to Death, it would gain power over me to either 'collect' on me or command me.” Cheery stuff. How do I know that? Dark dreams. And my talks with... Death when I payed it a visit in what is apparently now called 'The Other Side', with none of these trips strictly being voluntary. Yeah, great. Lord Playfair posted:Describe the form your contract takes. And then Playfair tells me that there is an 'additional component' to make it 'official appropriate to my circumstances'. And with that, he hands me a bone – is that a tibia? A human tibia? - and tells me to break it over the slowly drying ink. And you know what? gently caress it. This is loving appropriate. I do not even need to exert myself. The bone breaks and little pieces of it fall into the ink, sink into it – and dissolve in it. And right now, that too seems appropriate. I could laugh at all of it, the insanity of it. I know what I did this summer quote:Describe how your character unwinds over their summer at MurderDome. After all that testing you'd think they'd either announce who made it or cut us loose until then, but turns out they're going to keep us in this place until they made their decision, which turns out takes three loving months. And I don't believe for a second it really takes as long as that, this is yet another test - and if I didn't know there's all these other people here with me in the same situation, I'd assume it's some hosed up test designed just for me. Because, once again, locked up in some remote facility, not a fan. But, yeah, all these other people with me too, so me thinking that it's to see whether I'll get cabin fever and, what, murder everyone is perhaps pushing my paranoia too far. Although, speaking of getting cabin fever and me murdering everyone, this whole situation does sound like some sort of setup for a weird crossover between a classic 80ies slasher movie and YA dystopian novel film adaptation. I mean, a bunch of teens caught in some shiny, perfect looking complex, being tested by unseen masters... but among them is one that stalks the halls, that feels an unnatural hunger for fear, that gets a thrill at seeing them powerless and frightened, running through the now darkened halls they thought safe. One guess at who I'm talking about in that fantasy. Anyway, yeah, might just be me. So, the question is how I spend my time, cooped up for, again, three loving months. Now the thing is, when I.. changed, even the first time, it took something from me. Dulled my desires, my appetites - and that left everything but just a few things kind of unsatisfying. So what do I do? I train a lot. Physical exertion helps me zone out, helps me make my loving mind shut up for a little while. I take some of the voluntary courses on villainy when I feel up for it - not in the sense that I can be bothered, but in the sense that I'll be able to actually pay attention to what's going on in front of me and not in my head. I play the guitar when I am alone. And I watch my fellow 'peers'. How they move. Where they look. Who they speak to. Where they feel safe, where they decide to sleep. gently caress. I wish I wasn't locked in here and I could just do... something constructive. I do notice something odd though. For a bunch of teenagers forced to live together in a small space with little adult supervision, and over three months, there is not a whole lot of hooking up going on. No idea really why that is, might be because a lot of them are so seriously narcissistic that the only thing that gets them going is a large mirror. Maybe that's why I don't actually go stalking the corridors - well, not seriously stalking the corridors, I do pop up behind the more frightened ones from time to time - that old chestnut about slasher villains and teens loving, right? Anyway, I do try to get to know some of my fellow peers, though for many of them it's only superficial. For example, did you know there is a loving talking squirrel here? At first I thought it was part of a new test and we were supposed to hunt our own food, but then I noticed that squirrel wore clothes. And could talk. That relationship got off on the wrong foot. There's that nudist girl Nadia, and I don't have anything against her showing off like that, though in a way it made her less interesting. And for some reason, I don't know why, she makes my blood run cold. No loving idea, it's not like she's threatening. Let's get to the people I spent a bit more time with. There's Twilight. I admit, when I first saw him, I couldn't help but chuckle and his whole emo thing. Obviously, his powers were focused around rainbows and glitter - no, obviously it's shadows and necromancy. Come to think of it, that should make my skin crawl, because with me being undead he could make my skin crawl figuratively and literally. I heard he was talking poo poo about fae, and we'll get why that was interesting to me in a bit. I could tell that for all his 'lord of darkness' attitude, he wasn't really as tough as you had to at least pretend to be in this place. I must have been in a good mood, because I didn't take advantage of that. It helped that I wanted something out of him, namely information on the fae and all that poo poo, though I could have gotten that by, well, being more forceful too. Instead, we hung out for a bit. Turns out that apparently in a few years, he'll turn into the Anti-Christ and will bring about the end of the world and all that. Why doesn't this bother me? Because if I believed everything others are telling me here, the earth will be ruled by an alien prince way before that, will be cleansed with atomic fire before or after that and will also be turned into some sort of 7th-dimensional magical bullshit nexus as well. So yeah, not putting too much stock into everyone's delusional plans working out just yet. Anyway, I gave him some, I guess you could call them villain confidence lessons? Perfecting his villain strut, you know, with me striding behind me with my arms crossed all badass. My tip for that was to just play 'Imperial March' in your head while doing it. Oh, and he helped me find out where you can get some eyeliner in this loving place. Now why was I interested in fae? Remember how I talked about there not being a whole lot of hooking up going on? Well, I have my hunger for fear, but I learned even before those black ops assholes locked me up and transformed me that there's something else that I can pursue with that... intensity. That urge, that relentlessness, that unforgiving drive to, hm, conquer. What I'm saying is that it's the right person, I have quite the libido. Now things didn't work out with Dark Eagle, I actually think she interpreted me hitting on her as instead me trying to intimidate her. We had a rematch in the Trouble Run after that. Like I said, it didn't work out. And honestly, maybe it's better this way or I wouldn't have gotten together with Royal Rose. Ha! An actual princess. And really loving hot, too. I mean, have you looked at her? I could pick that wonderful hair out of a crowd of thousands. So yeah, I pursued her, what in retrospect could be called 'kind of aggressively'. She seemed to be into it, though. So yeah, at least for the duration of this M.A.D.D enforced summer vacation, we're together. I play her henchgirl and you know what? I don't mind. It feels right, somehow, and it reminds me of something from before I chose to become a villain, when I still thought I could keep it all together by, well, finding things and people to fight for. Sure, you might say she has a 'personality problem', but I can handle it. Because I do like her and beyond all this... insane supervillain poo poo we have something, well, normal. She did give me an awesome 'casual' outfit, with those kickass pants. And I know she thinks herself my better, at least outside the relationship stuff, the mastermind to my muscle, me the implement to her will. I suppose I let her indulge in that and do her bidding - up to a certain point, anyway. No way am I going to actually fetch anything for her, for instance. And if she gets a little bit too delusional about, what, taking over the MurderDome or putting on some play extolling her virtues, I just shrug and pull her towards me and remind her of other things she should be focusing one. Sure, I follow her commands in public, but only because I want to. And because I actually like her. But when we're not in public, well... things are a little different. About who gives the orders and who takes them. I never said I didn't get anything out of this. quote:You and Shadowboxer are asked to train together by Old Scratch as part of a special program for a few elite peers. It’s really only you two by the end of it that prove to have what it takes up to snuff. Shadowboxer proves that they have more than just the ability to manipulate shadows: They can manipulate others once their shadow is touched with another’s, thus counter and control their opponent’s movements! You realize that if you’re going to get anywhere, you gotta start coming up with some tricks of your own. Describe to us a training regimen, what is learned and what is lost, and why ultimately, you don’t succeed in surpassing your limits, this time around. I admit, I look forward to Old Scratch's fighting matches, and especially my matches with Shadowboxer. There is something about the purity of just... kicking rear end, the simplicity and dominance of it. If it's right, there is just nothing else, which for my head and what usually goes through it, is heaven. Or, even more ideally, I'm just thinking about how awesome it is to have an all-out brawl with some sort of shadow badass, although a change of scenery would be nice. Like fighting on a speeding train. Once I get out of here. Me and Shadowboxer one after another knock out the competition until really, it's just us left, and I would be lying if I said that didn't feel good. What doesn't feel good is that afterwards, it's Shadowboxer that comes out on top more often than not. It is frustrating. I can never get to her in time, that slippery fucker, so it doesn't matter how hard I can punch. No matter how many sit-ups, push-ups, crunches I do, I'm never fast enough. And when I use my powers to get to her, well, because of my, hm, 'horror movie villain' thing all of the stuff I use for getting around without actually moving in some way or another always uses the shadows. Which means I am hosed. I suppose it all mounts up, the frustration, the fact that we're encouraged to cheat and, perhaps worst of all, that every time I walk into Shadowboxer's trap she... controls my limbs, my body, my will. And I do not react kindly to that. So one day I lose my cool and then for days after that, things are... tense. Not just a contest anymore. And finally I do try to get an edge outside the arena, but I wish I hadn't. Basically, I try to do some Freddy Krueger poo poo on Shadowboxer and invade her dreams - and don't ask me how I just know that is even possible for me. You know, just to get an edge, unsettle her, find out how I can beat her in the ring. But it all goes to poo poo. I will spare you the details, but the only one that ends up lost in nightmares is me. Dark, unsettling stuff. Of what I could become, if I lose my self control for just one moment. It's funny. I try to frighten others, but sometimes it feels like I am my own best customer. nil. fucked around with this message at 11:59 on May 31, 2016 |
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May 28, 2016 21:34
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:
Copycat shrugs with an embarrassed grin,. "You know he doesn't talk, right? How would I know? This isn't A Talking Cat.", she starts off unhelpfully. "But here's the more important part: Jailbird isn't going to end up someplace he shouldn't be or with someone he shouldn't be!.... not for long, anyway. You could could tell him yourself. I mean, if you really know what it is, and aren't just messing with me. But, you know, I trust you too much to think that!" Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Describe one of the benefits provided by your M.A.D.D. membership beyond the standard. The M.A.D.D. Field Guide to Metahumans, a secure phone app that gives her a quick guide to known superhumans, their powers, public identity, affiliations, and spheres of operation, updated regularly. There, of course, those who are marked as classified (mostly some high-ranking M.A.D.D. members), but it serves like a menu of superhuman abilities in cities across the world. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Describe the form your contract takes. You know cut-ups? The whole thing looks like a ransom note across twelve or so very hard-to-read pages. Yeah. Somebody's a character. Who did this contract, anyway? Man-Roach? The guy's an uplifted insect! What qualifications did he even have to do this with? "Survived for ten years in an office environment." is not professional experience! This is not an acceptable substitute for a .docx file! Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Describe one critical weakness of your character, or a piece of blackmail that could truly and materially stop you in your tracks. As previously mentioned, separating Copycat or Jailbird is likely to result in more instability in Copycat's powers. However, extended periods of time also results in her just glomming into a nearby person's powers with very little control. Thankfully, it takes time for her control to slip, but she's reliant on Jailbird's probability manipulation in the long term. Over a long period of time (months or weeks) there could be even more serious loss of total stability, like copying uncontrolled mixes of other powers, and overall degradation of her physical form. Little things like that. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Describe how your character unwinds over their summer at MurderDome. Copycat will be seeking out peers who are legit cool, not a bunch of fakers, but those are A) probably actually good at villainy and B) aren't entirely insufferable as a result. Like Blackguard or Melody. Getting to be around so many powers potentially makes her a big girl in camp, combined with her charmed pet. There's a seesaw of moods to find her in: either feeling easygoing and actually legitmately friendly or being put off and in a mood to show off and dress people down. Similarly, she's looking for those teachers she sees as bonafide, and is more than happy to learn from adults who aren't jackasses. (Most are jackasses, doubly so with villains.) The real practice and danger comes from trying out her skills at camp to nab things from people, and is mostly playful about it, but people are... sensitive about this sort of thing. She probably takes (and deals) some lumps as a result, and there's potential rivalries with others like Silver, Zapper, or... Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Copycat: Supernology, which studies the means by which all metahumans affect the world, understand that whether by galvanic science, hypertech, sorcery or inborn power, all superheroes tap into some basic cosmic forces. So I guess that’s why your power seems to work on just about everything? With some exceptions. Meet exception #13: Reynar Dean. Reynar is a bygone, which is to say, he shouldn’t exist, from one of the Green Worlds of fantasy like Faeryland. While many of the fae settled on our plane in Avalon and preserved themselves there by keeping the pretension of being normal. Reynar is doing the much the same, and looks just like a human, though with brilliant orange hair and green eyes. What is particularly interesting is that he is a perfect liar, and whatever he says seems to come true. Unlike manipulating fate, he challenges it, in a way that Jailbird cannot approach, in a way you cannot replicate. He can make almost cartoonish events, from falling pianos to walking on air happen, all through a sense of audacity. And he’s made it his mission to pester you, without any likely means for you to best and turn him away. The plan: #1) Attempt to prank him relentlessly and mundanely. If that does not work due to his powers, go to #3. If it does work but doesn't have the desired effect, go to #2. #2) Turn the pranks meaner. We're talking pepper spray on the seat and stinkbomb in the bed mean. If that doesn't work due his powers or unflappability, go to #3. #3) Organized rejection. Spread nasty rumors- no, tell the truth about him. He is, after all, creepy and weird, and Copycat is cute with an adorable pet. Isolate him socially. No matter your powers, no teenager is immune to that. Sure, maybe he's just looking for attention or friendship. Maybe he's just a bully. She doesn't care. She's a sore loser, and he's a creep who picked a fight with her, and that's essentially a war crime at her age.
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May 28, 2016 22:44
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Fashionably late~ Click first nameplate for music, second for character sheet. Well... I didn't do as well on my scores as I should have, but I still did better than most of the petty riffraff I'm surrounded by. Two Exceeds Expectations, Two meets, and one utter failure. A part of me's disgusted that I even care how I'm evaluated, since honestly it's not like anyone's worthy of evaluating me, even if they do supposedly outrank me within this organization. Maybe it's being surrounded by so many people that actually think they're equal to me that has me on edge, since I'm unused to it - and I don't have time yet to educate them all on how superior I am to them, since I've better things to do. Or at least I thought I did. Ushered off the next day to be interrogated by some glowing-skull Freak, I'll admit this isn't the typical sort of meeting I add into my schedule. Might as well get this over with, I'm eager to get back to my penthouse suite after all. quote:Old Scratch Duh? Of course I'm not some calloused peasant, and there's hardly any sense in me risking a chipped nail when I can just use magic - or other people, preferably - to accomplish my aims, now is there? And it's not a "noggin" power, I guess you don't quite understand it. It's... it's me projecting myself, my soul and will and being, against reality - and winning. It's the knowledge that perception is reality, and that my ego's stronger than the universe. Thinking about what I want to happen is part of it, but it's hardly the core of spellcasting. And wait a minute, I was too distracted by how wrong you were to object until I was done explaining that - we need to discuss this "start at the bottom" idea. I mean... I've been trained by a former member of the Modern Marvels. I'm a royal semi-goddess spellcasting media darling... just because my mom beat up a bunch of you, I'm being held back? That's not fair! She already stole my kingdom and kicked me out, and if her so called enemies think they can use me against her, they've got another thing coming. Maybe I'll make all of them into my puppets, control a whole gang of 'em via spells and telepathy and blackmail and a little bit of flirting, see how yo- Melody seems to notice how Old Scratch is looking at her, and softens her tone immediately I mean, that's fair - a chance for me to rise rapidly through the ranks, show off what I'm capable of, right? That's perfect for me! Yup! quote:Who, me? Oh, she never told you, did she? Heh. Those were the days. Ah, but that was before you were even born. Maybe that'll put it into perspective. Oh... um, yes, I mean of course she spoke about you! All the time! You were her archvillain, right? I assure you, curses against the Scratch name were frequent in the Skye household when I was growing up. That's not flattery, because would I really use such a flagrant lie? quote:Your real history, Melody, Rose, whatever, starts here. You going to be a real pill like those aliens about it, or are you gonna do something the Fair Gents and Ladies would have been really proud of?" Listen, I want to go by Melody - because it's the most perfect name of all time - but you simpletons are the ones that insisted I adopt some sort of bizarre workname. Royal Rose suits me, but Melody is the most perfect name of all time. Have you said it aloud? It's perfect. As for if I'm going to make the Fae proud... I'm not the Hero type, but if mother hadn't hosed me over, I'd have tried to be one of them. I'm better than she is - more talented, more ruthless, fairer and faster. Even if it was Fate that sent me here, you still lucked into getting ME in your little group. Mother's told me tales of all the villains she's defeated, and I know how to not repeat their mistakes. What's more, I actually know how to take credit for what I've done - and believe me, I've spent my whole life escaping consequences, there's no way I'm ever getting caught or defeated. I'm not going to make you all proud, I'm going to make the World stare in awe and tremble in fear. -------------- Oh great, a lawyer. Actually, wait... this is Lord Playfair, mother told me about him. Never mentioned his face though. Anyways, he's not actually a lawyer, but he's certainly good at faking it. Why can't I read his mind, and why don't I have one of dad's lawyers or at least agents here? What's with that bizarre head? This is insanely creepy, and I'm not that happy. It's not that I'm never been in a situation negotiating stuff like this... it's just that, usually, I have other people telling me what decisions to make. Not that I need that of course! It's just comforting. When he asks about my identity, I just raise an eyebrow. Everyone here knows who I am, or they're a Neanderthal and have no idea of geopolitics, movies, fashion, or internet attractiveness polls. Even the space alien knows who I am! quote:Describe one of the benefits provided by your M.A.D.D. membership beyond the standard. Looking over these forms, at least one of these provisions actually makes me smile openly. Bad negotiation tactic but I can't help it - Magical Occultation is such a great idea! Basically, know how I'm probably a bit more famous than other people here, if only because of Avalon / my mother? Yeah, that makes it easier for people to supernaturally attack me too - since everyone knows my truename. With this, and the magics they've agreed to have some of their higherups work in exchange for my signature, I'll be protected somewhat. Maybe even from mother's scrying, which'd be handy, because even if she has banished me, she still checks up now and again. Last time she told me I was looking chubby, which was just her being cruel because she's the worst. quote:Describe the form your contract takes. Oh, like a movie star's contract. Dad's showed me different ones he's agreed to like, a dozen times, including his newest Modern Marvels movie - I'm pretty familiar with how they work. The promotional clause is standard from what I understand, and it's not as if I'd intended on publicly badmouthing M.A.D.D. to begin with. I sign on the dotted lines, smiling up at the flaming skull that tried to fight my mom twenty years ago. Yeah, this isn't weird at all, I'm going to keep telling myself that. quote:Describe one critical weakness of your character, or a piece of blackmail that could truly and materially stop you in your tracks. Everyone knows this. Cold Iron wrecks my magic and glamour and there's really not all that much I can do about it. Maybe ask my teammates to help? Regardless, I can't use my telepathy when its nearby, and the more someone's wielding or bearing, the harder it makes it for me to affect them with my magic. It's totally ridiculous by the way - one ancient pact that a bunch of the other Fair Folk got on the bad end of, and millenia down the line I'm on the hook for their mistake?! It's absurd. Sadly, like so many other things in my life, it's an unfair effort by Fate to stymie my greatness, but I'll rise above it. ------------- quote:Describe how your character unwinds over their summer at MurderDome. quote:Melody: One day, while you’re minding your own business, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. When you turn around, you don’t immediately see anyone until you look down and see a diminutive young girl, with almond eyes and long white hair decorated by two “living” skulls, who basically disappears into her thick black turtleneck. She appears to be quite unchuffed, and loudly declares, “Melody Skye-Edgars, you will rue the day you made an enemy out of me. I cannot forgive you, and will never let go of this hatred. Remember this, because this is the last time you will have the better of me.” Turning up her chin, she marches right on off. You have never seen this person in your entire life, but with some effort you can learn that her name is Lilith Chiu, known as Poppetmaster, who appears to be nobility from some dark dimension or another, but that does not explain this encounter at all… But given some time to think about it, maybe you’ll realize something to explain it. ------------ Melody's Confessions to the Camera Silver - Annoying, and I'll make her pay. She thinks everything's a joke, and while that's an attitude I can agree with, she also dares to treat me the same way. Unforgivable. Plus I think she messed with me on the Trouble Run. Centipede - I... I don't think that should be allowed to be a power. It's like he's secretly David Cronenberg or something. Hartonn - Yeah, I get that he dresses like a total dork and his hair needs a major fix. Normally those would be absolute dealbreakers, but of everyone here, he's, uhhh, the second hottest? (I'm the hottest, obviously.) Those powers, that title, the possibilities for both of us... Plus, cute butt. I noticed it when he passed me on the trouble run. Yeah though, I deserve an otherwordly Adonis. Meeko - Adorable, but neither a threat nor worthy of my time or effort. Copycat and Jailbird - Thievery is such a mundane crime, while envy is a mortal one, and she's guilty of both. She's definitely competent, and she seems like a proper professional... but can I ever really trust someone like her? When it comes to thievery, whether it be possessions or powers, I'm at the top of the list of juicy targets. S.T.R.A.I.N - I'm fairly sure she leaves turtles on their backs. My telepathy works poorly on her, therefore I don't trust her. She's not mortal, so my glamour's less likely to affect her. I hope someone powers her down, she'd be a pain in the rear end for me to deal with. The Shrike - Oh good, a vampire. Really? Pass. Blackguard - Couple things. One... I like her, a lot. She's the third hottest person here, and certainly the hungriest for me. And don't get me wrong, she makes for a perfect minion - expendable, invulnerable, and her rear end looks amazing in tight leather pants. That said, onto the second thing. She's a minion - not an equal. Möbius - A pathetic excuse for a rival. My magic's old, not your feeble words and hijacking of powers great than yours. Yeah sure, he impressed everyone earlier... but he's also a teenage boy, and I have telepathy and enchantments. I can break his heart if I have to, let's see him be effective then. Nadia - The. Worst. Did she mention she's a nudist? She is, and it's disgusting. She has nothing to flaunt; cover that poo poo up girl. Twilight - What an over-dramatic boy. He gets dumped once and decides to become the Antichrist? If he thinks I'm going to share my Kingdom with some would-be Satantic puppet, he has another thing coming. Still, I heard he has a thing for Fae girls... wonder if it'd be fun to wrap him around my finger? Dark Eagle - I don't understand her. She could have so much more than she does, but she's so dedicated to tilting at windmills that she doesn't see that. Does it bother me that she's got a social following too? No, of course not, I'm not planning on destroying her or anything... Kama - Uhhhh... wait, does she think SHE counts as royalty? As a Goddess?! Laughable. She's no match for me - beauty and brains always beat brawn, and the good princess is never hurt at the end of the story. Maybe she should reflect on those narrative truths sometime. Zapper - Oh please. I can rewrite reality - she has a bag of tricks she probably bought at a millitary surplus store. We're not on the same level, and as long as she agrees that I'm better than she is, we're cool. Rauri fucked around with this message at 10:34 on May 29, 2016 |
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May 29, 2016 09:34
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A number of passing thoughts in the mind of Möbius Silver - An infuriating brat, this one, and even bigger waste of potential. Somehow in possession of temporal warping powers I don't know how she wields her power, but one day I will. And that day I'll make her learn that inborn ability is no match for knowledge and mastery. Centipede - Wilbur. Certainly, whilst the shaping of mere flesh is in no way equal to shaping the fabric of reality itself, it is still an intriguing power. At least he seems to have realized this himself, the way he seeks my company and protection. A wise choice. Hartonn - Royalty of some planet or another of this plane. Delusions of grandeur. Yet to see this one exhibit any ability other than to look important. An unduly smug irritant, and nothing more. Meeko - A squirrel. Somewhat clever for a squirrel I suppose, but still a squirrel. Copycat and Jailbird - Seems fairly skilled, even if only in the realm of petty crime. Also a mimic, unfortunately enough. The power of topomancy is dangerous when not tempered by the knowledge of its proper use. And the way she carries herself makes it fairly obvious that she is not nearly clever enough to understand the esoteria. Should make a point of not being around if she decides to do something so foolish as to take my powers. Which, looking at her, I don't exactly doubt she would. S.T.R.A.I.N - Some sort of mechanical hivemind I believe. Should probably make a note to perform lensing checks on my equipment and person when around her, lest she leave traces. Blackguard - A very interesting lady, this one. I've seen her appear at times and places she has no reason or right to, and have not yet figured out how she does it. She certainly does not seem to leave a veil-trail, and neither does she exhibit any warp resonance. Yes, very interesting indeed. One day I'll find out. Melody - Yet another royal of some flavor, this one apparently from a local fey kingdom. Which she seems to think makes her not only the greatest person in the room, but actually, legitimately important to some decree. As if being the heir to the throne of a single one of the planes held any importance whatsoever. Other than that, seems to exhibit the worst traits of both nobility and the fae: Thinking herself great, even though she has managed to waste all the wealth and power she was born into and never worked for, as well as thinking her powers mighty when they can be countered by an iron pendant from a discount magic-shoppe. Pathetic. An unruly half-spirit, and nothing more. Nadia - This one works with computers apparently. I rarely deal with such mundane devices, and could not care less really. Has a disgustingly base demeanor, reminiscent of the common, sparkless peasant dregs I used to know. Twilight - Of all the extraplanars, demons are one of the most tricky to deal with. Dealing with them requires almost perfect attention to detail, and is almost never actually worth it. To do so succesfully requires a quick and sharp wit, which is something this kid obviously lacks. Poor idiot child. You are way over your little head. Dark Eagle - A rebellious teen, with more attitude than brains, worked up about some irrelevant social issue or another. Seems fairly good at fighting I suppose. Usable as a meatshield. Kama - A celestial. An annoyingly potent sort of extraplanar, much harder to deal with than simple spirits or fae. Will have to actually be careful around this one. Zapper - A genius in her field, denied her rightful place because of unfair and arbitrary rules put in place by those in power? Almost a kindred spirit, this one. Now granted, her 'field' is tinkering with gadgets and toys, whilst mine is mastery over space and time itself. Still, even if she is so far below me as to be almost impossible to notice, I cannot help but be sympathetic. A master of a craft deserves to be known as such, even if said craft is weak and without value.
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May 29, 2016 17:27
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Disembodied Duo I shrug, going along with their battery of tests. I can't say I've ever pried too deep into the specifics of the aura, but I run an extra barrage of tests for them, showing them that I can give orders to any inferiors around. In villainy, the practical applications are quite obvious. I'm picturing the "command aura" as basically the reason Hartonn's family is in charge in the first place. Their ancestors had a strange mutation that made people want to follow them, and now everyone views them as the rulers because... well... they should just be in charge, right? Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Describe one of the benefits provided by your M.A.D.D. membership beyond the standard. As a member of the royal family of Suabos, I actually do have a basic legal background. Have to know how to write and rule on all those laws once I'm king, after all. But, the contract seems written for the benefit of people with less legal experience than I have, and as such it's a quick task to figure it out. The only really interesting clause is that YUMADD is required to repair or replace my royal spaceship in the event of any damage caused during a heist or other villainous activity. It's a bit of a relief to know that I'm not going to be stuck on this planet even if one of my foolish teammates does something that causes my ship to be destroyed. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Describe one critical weakness of your character, or a piece of blackmail that could truly and materially stop you in your tracks. I stew, thinking it over for a bit. A vulnerability. I don't want anything that could actually kill me, but... I don't want to tell them about that either. But, I can't think of anything else non-lethal enough to satisfy their safety valve. "There's... an old law on Suabos. An incredibly old law. It says that anyone can challenge any member of the royal house, baring the king and queen. If the challenger wins, they can take the loser's place in the line of succession. But, if the challenger loses... well... their life is forfeit Also, if the heir refuses, they are automatically removed from succession." "But, the Rite of Challenge is incredibly elaborate, and a single error in the proclamation voids the whole thing. But there's a little loophole that's even less well known. Even among the scant few people who know of it, almost all of them think that it has to be some sort of fight or other gladiatorial display of prowess, but the challenge can be just about anything that would last more than five minutes and has a clear winner and loser. I'm sure there's more specific limits to rule out games of chance, but I lost interest in researching it once I found that no one of royal blood is allowed to issue such a challenge. That law got added after something about 'An endless cycle of constant challenges causing disorder and confusion across the entire planet.'" Technically, only the current heir is legally obligated to observe Rite of Challenge, but between Hartonn's obsession with being treated as the crown prince and the mockery he'd receive back home for refusing, he's basically unable to ignore a properly delivered challenge. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Describe the form your contract takes. The contract isn't written down, but instead, it's in the form of a pact worm, a small, brownish worm-like creature bio-engineered to make interstellar commerce easier. Pact worms are used throughout the galaxy to seal bargains. Once both sides agree to a bargain, the knowledge is psychically imprinted on the worm. Then, the worm is cut in half, and both parties eat their half. The contract is gradually imprinted on their mind over the course of a day and, once imprinted, is almost impossible to forget. After the worm's work is done, it exits through the ear (or ear equivalent) and is ready to be stored, in case anyone else needs to be made aware of the contracts' contents. Lord Playfair doesn't actually consume his half, saying he's well aware of all the contract's nuances. But... I think it's because he doesn't have a mouth. quote:Hartonn: At some point during the summer, you are informed by Madame Mode, accompanied by the Valets, that your parents are here to see you. It appears that ultimately they found out where you disappeared off to (Earth), and are providing you a means of connecting back to them. Do you take this up, or would it interrupt your self-exile? Do you try and act out in a particular way in response? And if you do go to “meet” them, how do you react to them not being in here in person, but rather using the Interocitor console to communicate with you across subspace? Much to my later shame, I jump at the news, thinking that they've finally seen the error of their ways and are going to invite me home to be the true crown prince, making this entire farce unnecessary. But, of course, not only would they not be bothered to show up in person (It's the interstellar equivalent of a day trip! And I'm their only son! It's not that unreasonable!), but they simply want to make sure that I'm "safe" and that I know that "they love me and support me in my latest hobby." Hobby! This is a "hobby" to them?! They even had the gall to say, "And you can come home anytime you want. We miss you, Harty!" It's just... so infuriating! They're still not taking me seriously! But, I'll show them! I'll bend this world to my will, and even my stupid sister will have to admit that I'm the superior heir! Capfalcon fucked around with this message at 22:15 on May 29, 2016 |
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May 29, 2016 20:39
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And now for something a little bit different… Every one of you feels the pressure of the moment, sitting around the table. Everyone hangs upon the anticipation of one man’s words, as he looks down his protuberance of a nose down at the numbers, mumbling and grumbling to himself through gritted teeth. The air conditioner is broken but everyone would be sweating even if that wasn’t the case. On the projector are some sales charts. On the table are dozens of issues of comic books, in various levels of dissection and mark-up. At the head of the table is the mobile nameplate set down. Nick Dixon, Founder of Infinity Comics, Inc. “Herm. Yes… Yes! Very good. This is exactly what I’ve been looking for! Genius! Very good!” The room was deflated from the anxiety that gripped it just the moment before. There was even some nervous lafter, as Dixon chuckled and tapped on the comic book issues, and then began to stroke at his jowels quite pensively. “Yes… You know, no one is doing this. We’re going to be on the front of it all. Nobody’s doing this, no sir. I mean, the idea if you had brought it to me straight… Preposterous! Who would have imagined! But that’s why I have you here, my brain trust…” The nervousness began to creep in as he began to scan each and every one of you. “Teens, youth fiction is big right now, and everyone likes their anti-heroes and villains. But teen villains! I would have punched the lights of the first person to bring this to my desk. Sock it right to them.” There was no nervous laughter this time, and his tone was a little strange and level. “But the numbers don’t lie. Subscriptions are up, plus the individual purchases on this series!” He tapped on it. Sinister Summer #2, featuring Silver on its cover. “We’ve got a limited issue series that’s selling like wildfire, but it’s time we seize the initiative. I want a full series, maybe even an imprint. Damnit, I’m Nick Dixon, and we’re gonna bury KP Comics and Citadel. Even the Japanese aren’t doing this! I want a full series of these kids, and I want the best of your ideas.” Nobody wanted to scramble to be first. What was it gonna be? There was almost the feeling that they would have to fight to the death over it. “Hm, but how many?” Dixon wandered aloud to himself. “Seven, seven’s a good number, but nines better. Can millenials even remember that many names? We’ve got a whole library here and new concepts waiting to go, but how much fat to cut?” “Um,” said someone, “what about eight?” “Who, who said that?” Dixon squinted, looking around, and spotting the one that said it. “You, explain.” “Well, you’ve got eight Marvels, right? Let’s bring back the Masters of Disaster. But like, uh, all new, right? What we do here at Infinity is keep the old style going, even if the cast is all new. It draws on the old history.” Dixon chewed on this, nodding. “Hm, you’ve got a point. Now get the hell out of here! Who even is this guy?” The person that spoke up very much slinked away, while Dixon jabbed his thumb condescendingly in his direction before shuffling through the issues in front of him. “Just throw the top eight selling issues together, we’ll do the crossover event, and get this show on the road. Jesus Christ, Masters of Disaster? Who came up with that?” No one reminded Nick Dixon that he came up with that, instead his assistant leafed through and sorted them, lining them up in the row of eight right in front of him as he rubbed his hands, moving back and forth. “I’ll show that Belgian sonuvabitch what’s what. That’s right, Dixon’s back.” But who are the eight? For we, the audience, don’t get to see, because the panel artist is an obnoxious tease. Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at 05:55 on May 30, 2016 |
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May 30, 2016 05:46
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 It’s the last day of There’s a lot of excitement because there’s rumours that not only is the Youth Union czar, who hasn’t shown his face for the entire time here, going to show his face, but there’s going to be an archvillain from the Dark Conclave present at the ceremony, though these affairs aren’t known for lengthy commencement speeches. There’s a few things that you’re about to get. One is the sinister sash (are you tired of hearing the word sinister yet? In this case it’s actually literal, you wear it on the left, thus, sinister), showing all the accolades, workshops, and credits you earned during your stay here, that you may have even realized you earned. It’s a unique thing for Youth Union members, they don’t add anything to it after this, though stealing it from others is completely legit. It’s like being an Eagle Scout, there’s some stigma both positive and negative among other villains about it. Next, you get to learn who your sponsor is going to be. They prefer that term, because in fact it’s your legal guardian, but they aren’t going to be playing mommy or daddy for you in any real means. It just means they are legally responsible for you, and there’s an additional level of interest that it means. A sponsor picks you, you don’t pick a sponsor. You may not have been first choice, mind, but they get distributed, and those at the real bottom of the list, like your Frogfaces and Bad Badgers, they get shuffled into the henchmen programs. Finally, you get your golden ticket. That is, your id card. Its literally made of gold, with embossed and metaled lettering and coloration and watermarks that is impossible for most processes. It’s very difficult (though not impossible) to counterfeit a M.A.D.D. card, not least bit because it’s radioactive. Just a little, and the half-life of the radioactive material (said to be malfesium-316) actually marks the expiration date for the card, about 13 years. But really, that’s just stuff. You want the guts, the glory, the Infamy of being the top of the line of the next generation of heroes, do you not? Everyone is gathered to the amphitheater, where everything is handed off, the advisors all give parting words of wisdom, shake hands. Some people cry, others snub the whole gathering and go off gallivanting elsewhere, until they are collected against their will by the valets. Then, the Youth Union czar finally makes his appearance. It’s not billowing smoke, burning hellfire, pyrotechnics or any other expected form of flair. Rather, it’s a shimmering like a mirage, accompanied by magenta and violet sparkles and dust, gleaming with a pixie lantern light as it takes its form there, floating in the air and trailing the dusk behind it. The Childlike Emperor.  “What’s up, jerks?” Jerks is a pretty strong term to use in M.A.D.D. culture so willy-nilly. A good many of the kids are hissing and hollering, because either they don’t know or are stupid. A good many others are disquieted by the appearance of the nefarious neotenic and his murderous wiles. They know that he’s known to kill for less than nothing, and is definitely on a level of villainy that really hasn’t been on display yet, but exists even within the Association. Yet, his tone is anything but serious… “Sorry, I mean of course, rapscallions. Come on, cheer! It’s your big day! Processing is complete and you’re all going to be free as little birds, and bring great delight with your evening flights.” He rolled his eyes and his hands, floating on his side now as he looked over the folks below. It was clear he had little to no interest being here, even a resentment. “Instead of boring you all to tears, let’s get straight to the biscuits. I’ve got a kingdom to rule without having to worry about you lot .” He landed upon his feet. “We have a very special guest, with a somewhat special announcement. And She’s uncharacteristically late.” “I’m never late,” came a curling, coiled voice from behind the crowd. The Emperor grinned, looking over to Old Scratch with a smug look. “Works every time.” But indeed She was here, exactly on time, crossing down through the crowd of the teen villains. Unlike with the Childlike Emperor, everyone knew who She was. They had no excuse otherwise. The image of that blue coat was almost synonymous with supervillainy from the very time of the Golden Generation, before, and after, in all places and all times. It was a very special guest indeed.  When She took the stage, there was a mixture of reaction. This was if nothing else a huge surprise, but also carried with it the terrible burden that whatever happened next, it would be extremely important. Entire generations were defined by the actions of people such as She, and this was not just some Conclave archvillain giving a basic appearance, this was the archvillain giving her blessing, for whatever reason, to this disparate millenial rag-tag group of teenage rapscallions. After some introductions and thanking the advisors, She took forward not with a speech, but more invitation. “I have just arrived from one generation, to the next. Just a few moments ago, I founded the greatest threat that the forces of derring-do and mystery ever would see. Where there were eight paragons, those Modern Marvels, there would be eight Masters of Disaster, who would hound them in every step, and bring down from their vaunted seat down here on earth, where they belong, with the rest of us.” She curled a smile. “Of course, all things come to an end, I already knew that.” She tipped her hat upwards, gazing out over to particular members of the crowd. She even makes eye contact with you. Yes, you. Right there. Right now. “There needs to be an all new generation. If they are rebuilding with the best of their best, we shall do the same. I have seen what comes next, and it is ours for the taking, if you will only grasp it! The world begs to be woke from its sleep, and you are its cure!” There are some genuine cheers there, as it becomes clear. She’s here to bestow (in a sense) a legacy. The Masters of Disaster have not existed for years, after their last defeat at the hands of the Marvels under Queen Atlanta. But Queen Atlanta isn’t around anymore. “I’ve already spoken to your advisors here, and your own experiences. I have picked only the best among you to represent us, and to make your debut not just as fresh villains, but as the New Masters of Disaster, with the full support of M.A.D.D. and the Dark Conclave behind you!” There was a swelling of excitement. This was more than a send off, or a graduation. This was an opportunity. This meant that all that time you spent with the advisors, impressing them and showing your stuff, making time and proving yourself better and different than the others, it would now, truly, finally, pay off. This is your time. “Allow me then to introduce to you,” the Emperor cuts in, floating behind the Blue Fairy with a leering smile, “our choices…” This is it. Finally. Your New Masters of Disaster, ladies and gentlemen…         … Yeah. That’s not you up there. But it makes sense, on a certain level. They are all up there, getting their accolades and cheers. These were the ones that were actually at the top of the class. No “Did Not Meets”, no excessive baggage. They were part of the popular cliques, the ones that ruled over the other students in the little camps and lodges. And most of all, it was really the legacies, the gladhanding, and the help they got from the people they knew and influenced rather than their skill, or maybe it’s just a combination of both. Whatever it is, it’s bullshit. That’s Atom Smasher there. He’s got a new costume and everything, far more confident than Yellow Jumpsuit right? Turns out he’s the son of Bio-Hazard, a world-class mutant and from the Burning Protectorate, the warlord state of metahuman separatists. And Holograftic was just a rich kid with toys at first, until you realize her name is Yayoi Yokoyama. Yeah, that Yokoyama, which opens all sorts of questions. Lady Circe is a name that’s been around forever, and the original was even a Master of Disaster herself, this one another reincarnation of the Minoan demigoddess powered by Atlantean magitech. Now that you know who’s in charge of Y.U.M.A.D.D. it isn’t hard to see why Poppetmaster and her clockwork dolls get a place too, she’s basically Closetland royalty like the Emperor. I mean, Reynardine is an old name sure, but not a great name. It just happens that the more Copycat struggled to isolate him, the more charming he seemed to become to those around him. What an rear end in a top hat. Shadowboxer coming out on top more often than not over Blackguard might’ve turned heads, but really it helps too that she’s Old Scratch’s niece. Really, the only person that came out of nowhere is Solitaire, and he’s up there solely because he basically got a perfect score on every test, which really just makes him even more of an rear end in a top hat than the rest. And do I need to explain Son of Dracula and why he’s up there to you? Ultimately, you lot weren’t the favored, or chosen ones. You weren’t the ones destined for this, to be on the forefront, to take up that old name and take it to the finish line. Basically, even here, as a villain, the world just works the same as it does everywhere else. gently caress that. It’s time to make your own name. You don’t need the legacy, you have your own alliances, your own path to take. You’ve still got your sponsors, and your wits. It’s time to show them. It’s time to show them all. You’re just going to need a little help from your… friends.  The office actually looks pretty… normal. Disturbingly so. It’s maybe a little dated, like something you’d find in an old British museum somewhere, with its outdated decor that looks like it belongs to an adventurer’s club, an antique globe and outdated maps. There’s an untended fireplace, and all of it is entirely out of place with the modern, sleek stylings of the rest of MurderDome. There is, of course, the huge man-sized birdcage in one corner, with a sickly looking raven with white feateathers about its head and yellowish eyes, that caws incessantly. Indeed, you can almost hear it plead. “Hawk! Hawk! Help!” Did it just say help? Of course, when someone gets closer for a peak, that’s when the Childlike Emperor appears in a puff of faery dust, giving a disapproving look. “Don’t feed the animals.” You had heard that he had captured the Bogeyman the same way he used to capture the souls of children, keeping them in cages. Is this really the Duke of Sorrows? The idea is a little much to swallow. In any case, welcome to your thirty day review. You made quite the splash, and the Emperor himself asked for you. (In truth, this is one of the things he’s required to do, but shhh.) Eventually he’s there lounging back on the chair horizontally, with the rest of you in various positions. You’re going to be here for a while, so it’s best to get comfortable. The Emperor is filing his wicked sharp nails idly as he listens to either the silence, or whomever decides they want to speak first, before he finally says. “How about you just start with the beginning…” His pink eyebrow raises sharply. He lays out your golden ID cards, just like Nick Dixon laid out those eight issues, out in front of you eight. “Just what exactly did you say you were calling yourselves?” But of course, the panel does not yet show where you are all sitting yet, nor do they show the cards directly, because the comic artist is a huge prick. Will they continue to tease? How long can they draw this out? Find out in the next issue of Capers! Now is the time for… Villains!?
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May 30, 2016 07:53
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Just kidding. Introducing, our villainous cast for Capers! The Placeholding Zapper, a Crook, by paradoxGentleman!  The Bellicose Blackguard, a Goon, by nil.!  The Chilling Centipede, a Hood, by TheNabster!  The Startling S.T.R.A.I.N., an Invader. by SuddenConsequences!  The Mirthless Möbius, a Maniac, by Theantero!  The Despicable Dark Eagle, a Radical, by Gato!  The Calamitous Copycat (and Jailbird!), a Rogue (and her pet), by Alien Rope Burn!  And last, but certainly not least, the Magniloquent Melody, a Scion, by Rauri!  ... Wait...  Well, she did say she wanted to use her real name... In any case, there you have it! So you can interweave if you like the relationships and the story of the Caper into the narrative prompt above. Or you can just give them. Whatever works! In addition to fleshing out your first Caper, the Relationships between your characters (spread these out, and don’t be afraid to pick one that at face might seem unusual, and work backwards from it), and who Influences you (you can choose NPCs as well as PCs for these influences by the way, though PCs are probably best for the majority), there are two more things I’d like. The name of your villainous alliance. You can say it as if it is is the name, and multiple ones can be related if you are giving an in-character retelling. Eventually, we’ll have a vote to decide on it. A vote for who the mastermind of the caper was. Again this can be done in-character, and while you can all you like claim credit, this vote has to be for someone other than yourself. You'll get an additional hook from your sponsor. But not tonight. You have enough to chew on! Here is a sheet for tracking influence. A summary of the stuff that we need is provided below as well. On our first Caper
Relationships
Influence
Misc
Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at 19:59 on May 30, 2016 |
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May 30, 2016 08:03
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The Centipede #3, Part 1: Big Disappointments And How Fate is for Other People. Well, he wasn't expecting to be picked for this. He knew he wasn't the best, wouldn't be the best, couldn't be the best and he shouldn't be down over this. And he was still very angry about it. drat, being around these supervillains is affecting his judgement. He was now back at the shack, well, the vacation was over so now what? He thumbed at his sash, very well decorated (Although the Starscream badge caused some comment) and his projects, very well rated, and his friends, very few yes, but they were friends of a sort it was better then nothing. But this was it he supposed time to be a part time super-villain as well as a part time superhero. At least he got some things he wanted right? Right? .... "No. No, I don't have to accept that." He sat up and reached for a file, 'Summer Project, Observations on Supervillains', it had started off as a joke and a means to put what he thought about people down on paper, but it had since grown in the writing to something much more substantial. There were 8 other files in that folder whose tags he had stuck post-it notes to. "And I think if I have the measure right, neither will they." He was the sidekick, his job was to organize, his job was always to organize things for other people to act on. So let's do some bloody organizing. That evening, he made some phone calls --- The Centipede, Part 2: One Month Later. And then we get to here, sitting in front of a very dangerous super-villain explaining what the hell just happened. quote:The name of your villainous alliance. "Well sir, it's a work in progress but I personally like D4C." "Meaning?" The Cen-Trevo-Wilbur wouldn't want to admit he got the idea from a manga novel, but he could give the full name. "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, D4C for short. Or Filthy Acts At A Reasonable Price if the copyright people don't like that but you'd appreciate why I didn't want to try naming this group FAAARP" quote:A vote for who the mastermind of the caper was. "No sir, I merely got the team together as it were. You could call it talent scouting." He motioned towards Mobius "It was Johnathan here that had the idea for our first little caper, and it quite the humdinger as you have probably been told." Even if it was a hair's breadth away from falling apart at the seams because Johnathan has the leadership talents of a cantankerous vulture and he's sharing the same team as Mommy's Little Princess and an Angry Space Robot who would also have 'does not play well with others' on their report cards. It's a good thing I picked the rest of the team around people who could act sensibly. Who needs power when you have competence? quote:Centipede: We kidnapped someone really important, who knows our name and helped spread the word, inadvertently or not. Who was it? Why were they important?  "Let's talk about Lord Stanley Howler shall we? After all, it was because of what happened that the Mystic Force are very upset right now. Well that and some other things." "Oh yeah the err, posh nob werewolf, I think he goes by Silverfang. Well you see for this plan to have actually worked, we needed this man's co-operation on the matter. Which he wouldn't give because of course the caper we ran heavily involved his property. It wasn't exactly something we could negotiate off of him." "And you...?" "Stuffed him into his meat locker with some silver shackles on, and I made a doppleganger of him to get past all the defenses he put in place around it, yes sir." The Childlike Emperor raised an eyebrow. "Really? I heard Lord Silverfang was an expert swordsmen, and of course a ravenous monster with tooth and claw when he has to be." "Yes sir, but I don't like to hang around long enough to find that sort of thing out sir, so we drugged his evening nightcap and grabbed him in his human shape." Even though I was pretty sure all we had to do was wait for him to drink half the bottle and pass out. But better safe than rent apart by a drunk and angry werewolf. quote:Centipede: Roll +Freak per The Other Freak+1, 2d6 + 1 = 6, Failure, Mark Curses! And having to gamble on a venture like that, whilst also juggling his time back from 'Hero camp' (With all the proper certificates and things and lots of good jobs and back pattings and lots of new skills which will be of great help to Multiplex) and also the fact that I had to work bloody hard to get a hand on those Silver Shackles (Which in the end I just got some cheap iron shackles and asked Paola to electroplate them with some silver cutlery) was a lot of extra work on top of that. It worked out, but it was a close run thing. There were some things I had to explain and/or lie about, and some things that I had to make up on the spot but they seemed to have accepted my telling of it in good faith, so I'm in the clear. For now. - Centipede's Relationships Centipede *SOLD* posted:You know that Zapper has been snooping around trying to uncover your secret identity. I don't think she is doing it out of malicious intent, but I suppose it was something that was bound to happen when I said 'I have some connections to CRISIS' and she doesn't quite believe the very convincing lies that I tell her about them. This, hopefully won't cause problems, because I like Paola a lot and want this professional relationship to continue, but if my privacy isn't maintained and she finds out and tells someone... Well I cannot allow that under any circumstances, because as soon as the masquerade is broken I am going to be in a lot of trouble. I've avoided the attentions of the authorities, the personal attentions of a police detective and a superhero whose job it is to find people like me so far, I think I can avoid her too. Centipede *SOLD* posted:Melody knew you first as the Other, but hasn’t made the connection. I knew I remembered you from somewhere. Couple of years back, when the Druidess was still the Druidess rather then the Queen of Avalon, and David Likely had just recently become the Multiman after my dad had retired, and I still had a pair of functioning legs I met this girl after that whole messy business of the Cult of C'Thungna when David had to call in some magical backup when it turned out to be much worse then he thought, and we got quite the response, the magical world takes resurgences of old god cults very seriously so we ended up with one of the strongest magical heroes available at the time. We got invited to a small celebration after that hard won battle and I sat next to, well at this point just a young girl who was a bit older then me at this point and we didn't really say much to each other. After all she was technically royalty, and I was not, that was all there was too it. Who knew she would grow up to become... Yeah. And it's probably for the best that she doesn't remember who I was either, that would cause some real issues right enough, she seems like the kind of person who would dangle that kind of thing over my head if I didn't do what she wants and has the one person on this team that intimidates me on a leash (Possibly even literally, I've heard some stories believe me). But to my own credit (and my secret sadness) I am not the boy I used to be, I've grown up into... Well for want of a better word, a crabby cynical cripple. Go me. Other People's Relationships Blackguard *APPROVED* posted:Centipede is the meat. They remind you in a specific way about your weaker self. I'm terrified of her alright? I had this list of people to stay away from because they either would be dangerous for my health, or they involved forces I didn't want the attention of. This girl was on both lists and I really didn't want to be in the same room as her, let alone the same team. But I couldn't leave her out of this, I wouldn't have gotten Melody on board if I didn't bring Blackguard too, they're the world's most obvious couple at this point, and she's the best muscle on this team bar none so why take a lesser candidate in that circumstance? So I had to deal with it, but just wish she wouldn't keep staring at me with that sorta predatory look in her eyes, I'm starting to lose sleep. Zapper *APPROVED* posted:Both you and Centipede share a side-venture together you haven’t shared with the others. We're keeping this as a small scale operation just to keep our hands in right now, but it's quite simple. CRISIS loans out gadgets to superheroes with approved CRISIS accounts for use out in the field, such as Multiman, and by extension since I am the one who makes the orders and signs the forms, Multiplex. So I get those gadgets that we want to replicate (from my connections as The Centipede), and Paola dismantles them to find out how they work, reproducing any schematics by hand, and then puts them back together again to be sent back. No warranties are voided, and it's not technically against regulations to tinker with the devices. And whilst it doesn't have the razzle-dazzle and wide reaching effects of anything the others might cook up; it's practical, it's fairly safe legal and danger wise, and it means we get top of the line CRISIS tech for use on missions without paying out the rear end to buy from the black market, or without those risks of official equipment being traced if we are caught with the stuff. - Influences quote:Centipede: You find yourself taking after others almost instinctively, considering the void where your identity is. Give Influence to three of your peers. 1. NEW INFLUENCE PENDING 2. Zapper is all the smarts I don't have. And I like surrounding myself with people who know more then me, it means that I can turn to them when I am cooking up plans for stuff I am not sure of and they are almost always ready with answers. Even if those answers are "No of course that won't work that's a terrible idea." 3. Some how along the way, I became friends with Möbius. Oh he is still pretty insufferable, and I still fault him for his many, many faults. But he was also one of the few people at camp who didn't talk to me like I was either a freak, or some stepping stone, and really I like the cocky sod all said and done. And it doesn't hurt that on this snatch bag team that he is one of the stronger members either. TheNabster fucked around with this message at 14:29 on Dec 25, 2016 |
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May 30, 2016 08:55
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quote:Paola's Summer Chronicle of Science and Discovery, Issue 3 Now where did I hear this song and dance before? thinks Paola, as her facial muscles protest vigorously against the stepford smile she is forcing on them. Look at all these mama's boys and daddy's girls and all other configurations of parent and child gender possible. Descendants and scions and inheritors, both of their glorious team name and of a more earthly sort: it's hard not to notice that many of these so-called "top of their classes" stand on the shoulders of giants, wheter these giants are the supervillains that spawned them or the corporations or kingdoms that back them. One of them is so scared of leaving Daddy's shadow that he picked a name to remind everyone of who that is, for Christ's sake. She is not completely blinded by envy, of course. She recongnizes that they have power, that they have talent, and yes, some of them probably worked hard to get where they are now. But so did I she thinks, the ugly sensation in her throat expanding; and they are there and I am stuck here, clapping. She steels herself; takes a deep breath, adjusts her stash. I earned these with the sweat of my brow. she says to herself, passing a gloved hand on the medals, tiny bandaids for her bruised ego. She smiles at her favorite, the Hephaestus badge, red with lava and black with hammers and a volcano, like an album cover for a niche metal band. And that's more than they can say. She looks back at the New Masters of Disaster, all smiles and hands raised in victory. She inevitably focuses on the one in front. Adam (not Atom Smasher, never Atom Smasher, he would always be Adam or Yellow Jumpsuit to her). Tall, spindly Adam, who never actually tried to take advantage of her inexperience or push her around like she expected, who still called her normie from time to time; to whom she revealed, in a professional tone like this was an old, forgotten piece of her precedent life, about her attempts at becoming a legitimate inventor; who had revealed in turn that he was from the Burning Protectorate, which explained that slang and that choice in costume, and that unpleasant edge he had when talking with every other non-superpowered person in the Murderdome; most importantly, it explained why he seemed to feel almost guilty about having an interest in her. He never did tell her that he was the son of the Czar's right hand man. Which was understandable, to be fair: even is she were to believe something like that, it would not have endeared him to her. It certainly hadn't endeared any of the snobby scions of royalty that ended up in the MurderDome to her. Enough focusing on the past. You've won this round, Yellow Jumpsuit, but this will not be the age remembered for the exhuming of an old, dusty legacy; it will be the age of bright, new faces in the world of villany, the age in which... Her train of thought stops. She doesn't have a name for her future supervillain alliance. She doens't even have an alliance yet. But that can be fixed. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- "Hello? Oh hey Wilbur, what's up?" "..." "Uh, no one asked me to join on anything yet. Why?" "Really? Uh. Okay, I might be interested. Who else is in?" "You went for me first? Flattery will get you nowhere, mister. Seriously though, who else did you plan to invite?" "Uh-uh, uh-uh... ugh, come on, do we have to? I know you work with him, but-" "Yes I said 'we', smart guy, don't get your- look, fine, I'll work with him, just try and keep his stick from getting too far up his own rear end." "Who else? Yeah, yeah, makes sense... I got a couple of people who might be interested myself, actually. You know Strain, right? The girl with the nanobots?" "Oh don't give me that, she's not nearly as bad as him and you know it!" "Hmph! Anyway, what about Copycat? Right, exactly what I thought, good choice." "Alright man, it's worth a shot, try and get the rest of them on board and I'm game." "..." "...wow, you're ballsier than I thought, Wilbur. Yeah, I can work with that, no problem, who do you think I am? Let's talk in the SMR though, alright? I installed a jammer in there. Text me when you're done assembling the rest of the team." "Yeah, yeah, I'll call you Centipede on the job, big guy. Don't worry, your identity is safe with me." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- quote:The First Job: Issue 1 Paola, sitting next to Centipede, straight and professional, nods as he explains the reasoning behind his proposed team name. "It's a snappy, modern name, sir. We are a forward-facing team, aimed at the future. I think that our name should reflect that." she contributes. But as keeps talking, she furrows her brows and clears her throat. "Well, actually, sir, while the idea to rob Howler was Mobius', and he had some..." she grimaces a bit. "...opinions to share about how the caper went, the bulk of the planning was done by Copycat, actually. She and I both have some experience with robberies such as these. But she insisted that she had robbed magical mansions before, so I let her take the reins on this one." She adjusts her glasses, and looks directly at Copycat, making sure that she understands that she let her take command this one time. The Childlike Emperor turns his eyes on her. "You're Zapper, right?" he snorts. "Why don't you tell me about this, ah, robbery? What were you even planning to steal in there?" He gestures at a nearby pen, and with a whimper it rises by itself and starts taking notes. Zapper doesn't rise to the bait. "A silver chalice, sir, an object of a certain hystorical value; a gift from the vampire aristocracy in occasion of the end of a feud. I understand it was meant to symbolize how they could use silver as a gift now that they didn't need it for weapons anymore." The Emperor has a short laught at that, shaking his head. "And where is that oh so wonderful chalice right now?" Paola's fingers dig into her hands as she speaks. "...it was still in the mansion when the fire started, sir, so it's probably a malformed lump of metal by now. We had of course taken precautions against werewolves, in case Silverfang proved uncooperative, but we had not considered that he had planned to have guests that night. Halfway through the heist a couple of vampires, reasonably ancient ones, of the Szelsky strain, burst through the main doors complaining about not being properly received. I am not sure they were aware of us from the start, but they were headed straight for the treasure room just as we were working through tha last traps, so we had to retreat to avoid confrontation." "Lotta big words just to say that you ran with your tail between your legs." comments the Emperor, as Paola bites her inner cheeks. quote:Extra Feature: Zapper's Closest Teammates Centipede: If half to three quarters of your team is a few screws short of a full set, it pays to be friends with the other sane guy, at least so you can both avoid joining the ranks of the crazies. Wilbur knows what it's like being the link between the unwashed mass of humanity and someone who unironically uses words like 'unwashed masses'. Dark Eaglie: Man, what if she has it all figured out? What if there really is no working with the system unless you are born of it? What if the only way to save this world is burn it to the ground and rebuild on the ruins? Even if she's wrong, you have to admire someone with the stones to take a stance like that. Copycat: Potentially speaking, I think she might be more powerful than anyone in this group, no matter what CRISIS says on the matter. And she has such a carefree attitude about it, about everything! I wish I could be this free-spirited about my life. She scores extra points in my book for being a thief like me. Maybe we could share tips about it? Paola's Backgroud: -Both you and Centipede share a side-venture together you haven’t shared with the others. Man, it's so easy when you keep it simple, when you keep it small. It's a pretty airtight operation: he gets the tech, obtained with his "contacts", I dismantle it and make schematics that I later use to rebuild the same stuff. How come it never goes this smoothly when you bring the others into this, or when you aim at the bigger fishes? And how exactly does Centipede find this kind of tech in the first place? So many questions, so many potentially unpleasant answers. -Strain holds some kind of debt over your head you’re itching to pay off. It took a lot of cajoling, but I did get her to let me study some of her nanites. The insights they provided was invaluable (I might even improve my masterpiece, the MiniGenerator, with some of the compact technology in those bad boys) but she made it very clear that she is doing me a enormous favor by doing so, and without even too much bluster. drat. I'm going to have to pay her back one way or the other... paradoxGentleman fucked around with this message at 19:14 on May 31, 2016 |
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May 30, 2016 20:57
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Dark Eagle - Prologue Part 3 - A Clattering of Jackdaws I’m not sure about the others, but I’m feeling pretty drat satisfied with how things are turning out. I think some of them are still smarting over not getting picked as Masters of Disaster, but I’m not joining the pity party. I’ve got everything I wanted out of MADD so far, and the first job went much better than I hoped for. Lord Silverfang was a shining light in the Mystic Force, yet another superhero team that spends more time acting as magical immigration officers than actually helping people. In his retirement, he’d holed up in this obscene mansion getting drunk and fat off his past glories. (Which doesn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous, of course.) All in all, a satisfactory choice of target. quote:The name of your villainous alliance. You can say it as if it is is the name, and multiple ones can be related if you are giving an in-character retelling. Eventually, we’ll have a vote to decide on it. quote:A vote for who the mastermind of the caper was. Again this can be done in-character, and while you can all you like claim credit, this vote has to be for someone other than yourself. quote:On our first Caper "Yes, I felt civilian casualties would be unnecessary -" He cuts me off. "I don't care about that. Your conscience doesn't concern me. But for such a stealthy job, you seemed very ready to burn the entire place to the ground. Which is exactly what happened." Should I really be grinning right now? "I have no idea how that happened. But it was always a possibility, especially since the sprinklers were apparently broken. So yes, I was prepared." I genuinely don't know how the fire started. Probably during the fight against those vampires. But I'm certainly not going to mourn some gaudy old pile of inherited wealth, even if it was supposedly historical and a Site of Magical Significance. "And you have to admit... it made an impression." quote:Dark Eagle: Roll +Integrity (that is, just a straight roll) for The Cause.  Oh yes, it made an impression. The destruction of a useless, tacky landmark, a disgusting monument to individual greed. The fact that the sprinklers were disabled beforehand, as if by an inside man, as if by some valet fed up with his master's tyranny. (I didn't tell the Emperor about that part.) The cache of confidential papers relating to the creative uses of the Mystic Force's budget now sitting on the editor's desk at the Daily News. And that blurry but unmistakeable photo of Dark Eagle silhouetted against the burning building. All this and so much more is in my grasp now. I'll let the MC decide who judges DE sincere and what aid they offer. As the discussion (let's call it that for now) continues, I sit back and size up my fellow villains. STRAIN, Jonathan (I refuse to call him Mobius, not after that incident with the dragon), Melody... it's the Three Egos who're going to attract the most attention, that's certain. Especially from each other, and I can use that. They're so convinced of their own superiority that they'll overlook me, I can tell... so much the better, if I ever need to take one of them down a peg. quote:Despite everything, ___________________ once made you doubt your cause. quote:You are convinced that ___________________ is a potential convert, if only they would listen. quote:Dark Eagle: You're devoted to what you believe, trying to pretend you’re above the others, but you aren’t completely. Give Influence to one peer. quote:Dark Eaglie: Man, what if she has it all figured out? What if there really is no working with the system unless you are born of it? What if the only way to save this world is burn it to the ground and rebuild on the ruins? Even if she's wrong, you have to admire someone with the stones to take a stance like that. quote:Dark Eagle: Jonathan does not normally spend time with those he considers his lessers (exceptions exist nowadays, yes, but this is the general rule), but he has to admit that wiggling their way out of a subspace bubble is quite an impressive feat of extraplanar navigation for a sparkless dreg. Thus, he did not really mind having to spend some time near her to repay the favor, since she had demonstrated at least rudimentary competence. Also, the fact that she was actually kinda pretty when you took the time to pay attention certainly did not hurt either. Really, Jonathan might have even considered her attractive, if the GREAT MÖBIUS wasn't so clearly above such mundane considerations... Gato fucked around with this message at 08:22 on Jun 2, 2016 |
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May 31, 2016 00:08
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What. A. Joke. Look at these idiots up there on their stage, patting each other on the back for having gotten there despite being aggressively mediocre. But whatever, let them have their stupid little ceremony. They're missing out by not inviting me to their party and one day they'll know it! I just got unlucky on some of the tests or I'd be up there instead of Holograftic. Who the hell is Yokoyama anyway? People kept whispering that's the reason she's up there. I bet she didn't even built half her stuff herself. Ugh! Whatever, I don't need to watch the rest of this travesty... Some time later... Zapper called unexpectedly. She asked if I wanted to be part of some group she was apparently putting together with the Centipede? I told her no, of course. Then, after some... careful deliberations that involved no frustrated screaming at all I called her back and told her I was in. It's weird, she didn't sound all that surprised when I called back. Almost amused even. Humans... So anyway, we got together and started plotting our first heist and it sure was a stupid one. Who cares about some piece of silver? Well, turns out quite a few people actually, namely the guy we wanted to steal it from and a bunch of vampires. Fun fact, they do not like a bit of extra iron in their snacks. Apparently I taste like a mouthful of scrap metal, according to them. Shows what kind of lovely taste they have. My team-mates still managed to screw up somehow, although I can't blame them entirely since once of them turned out to be a dirty traitor! Over some stupid sentimental crap too. Turns out that Darkstar has family in the Mystic Force or something. They had a falling out and he ran off to join M.A.D.D. and decided to have some kind of heartfelt patching up on things in the middle of everything going south! Möbius managed to port Darkstar's mom away to who knows where but that just pissed him off more. In the end we had to bail because there was too much magical crap flying around everywhere. And that was the first outing of D4C, which by the way, I did not vote for. I suggested The Defiants after my first idea of Strained Acquaintances got shot down pretty much immediately. In retrospect I'm glad I turned down the responsibility of running this one and voted for Melody to take the reigns, what with all the magical stuff going on and her at least seeming like she has an idea what she's doing some of the time. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Relationships It appears that Zapper is the most 'normal' among the group, as evidenced by the fact that more often than not she goes by her civilian name Paola. Thus it makes the most sense to try and figure out humans by studying her. Plus she's shown some competence with sciencing and gadgets, so she's tolerable to keep around as company. That's a compliment. I don't understand Copycat and Jailbird. They seem to treat each other as equals and work together even though one of them is clearly superior. It's intriguing. Maybe I'm missing something about her that puts her on even footing with her furry overlord. What? The cat is obviously in charge. It could be some form of mind control. That'd explain the odd physiological reaction this meatsuit has when Copycat's around... Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Influence  Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Misc 2d6+2: 5 Too busy with shenanigans and riding hot-tubs, apparently.
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May 31, 2016 00:48
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Jonathan stood, mouth pursed, as the new Masters of Disaster were unveiled. He spared exactly two claps when the ovation started, sharp and loud enough to clearly signal they were only given because of custom rather than actual appreciation. So yes, while it was quite clear that he was spiteful, it is important to note this spite was not directed towards Solitaire. No, Jonathan's appreciation for Solitaire's ability and mastery of his peculiar brand of magic was surprisingly genuine. No, his spite was directed towards those in charge of the Youth Union for having chosen his clear inferior. Solitaire was good, and perhaps he had done fairly well in the ridiculous and arbitrary tests, but it was clear that his brand of magic was far weaker and of markedly less utility than Jonathan's. How they could ever come to the ludicrous conclusion that summoning critters via some deck would be a better choice than topomancy he would never understand. Perhaps he would have to demonstrate their error to them at a later date. Make a point of his superiority. Nothing personal against Solitaire, of course. ~~~~LATER~~~~ Parallax clacked angrily against the floor as Jonathan listened to the prattling of his 'fellows'. "Nnnnyees", he interrupts with a drawn out sneer, "The plan ended in failure, but then, what would you expect from some ridiculous outfit named D4C", he continues, taking particular care to overpronounce every letter of the shorthand to make clear his disdain. "I had many better suggestions of course, but all were shouted down. Such is the folly of a system where everyone is given an equal voice, in spite of difference in intellectual endowment." Jonathan scoffs. quote:Mobius: Something did not go according to plan and threw everything into chaos, What was it? "But anyway, enough of that tangent. Let's return to the utter disaster that was this little bout." With a clap of his hand, and some unnecessarily showy gesticulating, Jonathan nabbed a tachyonic string-echo of the happenings during the caper straight from the void, a miniature version of the Silverfang Estate folding into being and shimmering in the air faintly. "Now as we can see", Jonathan zoomed in towards the treasure room with a wave of his hand, Zapper and Copycat clearly in sight working on the traps. Then, the focus shifted to Centipede and the imprisoned Lord Silverfang, then to Dark Eagle standing guard over neatly tied up and detained serving staff, and so on to each member of the caper in their appointed spot, every change of scene accompanied by a sharp tap of Parallax against the floor. "Everyone on their proper place, the thaumic wards circumvented expertly by yours truly to gate everyone in, with everyone knotted to an Astral Rebound Strip for immediate withdrawal after the deed is done. Everything seems to be fine, yes?" "Well, if you are an idiot, then yes. The real answer, of course is a resounding no." "No, everything went wrong from the very start. Even BEFORE the start, in fact. See, I, with some consultation from this burglar here" Jonathan nodded slightly towards Copycat "had already fashioned a brilliant, no-nonsense plan. A good, clear plan of action with no clutter. BUT THEN" Jonathan turned towards Melody with a sneer "This little prissy little princess had to play 'mastermind', and would not shut up until she had had her paws on every little perfected piece of my beautiful plan. And, well, as is abundantly clear, this plot has shown what happens when you let know-nothing nobles with absolutely no knowledge of anything even approaching practical into positions of leadership." "Because of HER meddling, the caper was already running late, with the vampires already on their way. Meaning that I was working under a lot of pressure without which the following could easily have been avoided." Jonathan brought the focus back to Darkstar. "See, around this time the vampires had reached the estate, but we would have still made it away, even with this one's betrayal. Betrayal which, I note, our mind-reading, self-appointed social butterfly failed to see coming." Jonathan lets the accusation linger in the air for a second before continuing. "But yes, I merely punted the traitor's mother into a subspace bubble, giving him ample time to dive in to rescue her. I mean, it seemed like the best course of action at the time." Jonathan scratched his cheek awkwardly. He then continued. "Now realize that I was working under considerable amounts of pressure, and could not possibly have noticed that Topomantic Lodestone in her pocket. Indeed, scouting out any and all clearly destructive items our opponents possess in advance should be the job of our sneaks, not me." "So, taking all that into account, I cannot really be BLAMED for that accursed thing getting tangled on the previously mentioned Astral Rebound Strip when I cast him into the void, or any of the... unpleasantness of the spatiotemporal whiplash that followed. And well, with our bruisers temporally displaced three minutes into the future, Silverfang and Centipede suddenly having switched position, and Zapper alone with some vampire duelist in a recursive subspace vortex, well..." "..." "Really, you all should be thankful I managed to sever the thing at all. Otherwise all of you would be in much worse shape." "How some lackey of the Mystic Force even got one of those stones, I don't know. They are used almost exclusively by the Zeitgeist or Hedron work crews to keep the void stable during repairs..." Jonathan tapers off in an uncharacteristic manner, merely staring forward with a sour sneer on his face, clearly lost in thought. ~~~~The following stuff is from a third person perspective because I could not be arsed with a continuous narrative~~~~ RELATIONSHIPS quote:You feel that STRAIN is your only true equal among your peers. She has the same power rating as him, but Jonathan is not exactly sure why. Not knowing for certain (well, thinking they know for certain) the abilities of a peer and why they're CLEARLY inferior to his own abilities makes Jonathan cautious and leery when around STRAIN, and more inclined towards acknowledging her power. quote:You once got Dark Eagle into big trouble with one of your schemes. "Just follow the silver cords", Jonathan's voice rang in the tiny, protective pocket of realspace superimposed on the Interplanar Void that Dark Eagle was sitting in. "And we'll soon figure out where those things are coming from." Back in the camp, Jonathan spared a glance towards Solitaire, who was practicing with his creatures on the other side of the field. Soon, he would know. Of course, around this time, one of the cords worked its way around the neck that connected the pocked to the plane, and then promptly squeezed. And then, where there had once been a connected pocket, was now a lone bubble, floating alone and abandoned in the void. Jonathan looked around in alarm, his eyes meeting those of Solitaire. He waved to Jonathan and shot a knowing smirk, before continuing his training. Now this whole incident, of course, was something that Dark Eagle loved reminding him of when asking for favors. The gall of that girl. She was only lost for a couple of hours, and you could barely SPOT the scars from that Mauve-Eyes Beige Dragon she hitched a ride back home on anymore. INFLUENCE quote:Mobius: You rely on others to get what you need, because ultimately you can’t hack it on your own. Give three others Influence over you. Blackguard: Blackguard is Jonathan's muscle of choice, but also someone that mainly answers for another. This, of course, means that any and all favors and help from her part leave Jonathan in a severe debt. Also, being more amenable to her ideas and demands are essential for, well, not necessarily 'good', but at least cordial relations, which in turn are required for her cooperation. And her cooperation is essential for figuring out just exactly how this strange power of hers works. Centipede: This one is not really a conscious thing, but Jonathan is starting to develop a genuine like for this one guy who does not actively seem to spite his company (and of course, makes sure to stroke his ego just right). Thus, he is actually willing to lend an uncharacteristic amount of consideration for his ideas and opinions. Dark Eagle: Jonathan does not normally spend time with those he considers his lessers (exceptions exist nowadays, yes, but this is the general rule), but he has to admit that wiggling their way out of a subspace bubble is quite an impressive feat of extraplanar navigation for a sparkless dreg. Thus, he did not really mind having to spend some time near her to repay the favor, since she had demonstrated at least rudimentary competence. Also, the fact that she was actually kinda pretty when you took the time to pay attention certainly did not hurt either. Really, Jonathan might have even considered her attractive, if the GREAT MÖBIUS wasn't so clearly above such mundane considerations... Theantero fucked around with this message at 17:50 on Jun 1, 2016 |
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May 31, 2016 18:31
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If anything, that Melody managed to contain her outrage and fury at being passed over for the Masters of Disaster was a huge credit to her - because she was beyond pissed off. She'd wanted to be on the team, yet she wasn't, and that wasn't how the Universe is supposed to work! So instead she smiled so hard she nearly cracked a tooth, acting perfectly delighted for the team of assholes and incompetents assembled up on the stage. The whole thing was rigged, that had to be it. It was impossible for her to do anything other than meet expectations, because its surely common knowledge that she's perfect - she could only fail to live up to them. Hell, she'd beaten Holograftic handily, yet that joke of a villain got to stand in the spot that should've been hers?! Outrageous. Truly outrageous. Waving a hand gently in middair to summon her phone, she spends most of the rest of the ceremony debating which tropical island to take a vacation to - she deserved it. She'd just suffered the second* greatest injustice anyone ever had, and an expensive stay someplace nicer than this ridiculous Murderdome was due to her. Maybe she'd even let Delilah come along too... ----------------------------------- txt to Centipede posted:How'd you get this number? txt to Centipede posted:Sure I'll think about it. No promises though. On the one hand, she'd have to end her tropical vacation early - and with barely any tan to show for it either, because half-Fae means never having to worry about a few mortal concerns like sunburns - but on the other, it'd sounded like an interesting offer. Not so much for the target, of course, since Avalon was stuffed to the brim with magical artifacts more significant than the Silver Chalice, but for who they were taking it from. She'd actually met Silverfang when she was five or so, he and her mother exchanged Christmas cards and had teamed up on a few occasions - so stealing from him would send a message, however indirectly, to her... txt to Centipede posted:I'll see you all soon. And so that's why, rather than sunning herself on some exotic beach, Melody's gracing the rest of her team and the Childlike Emperor with her presence. She nearly hadn't come in - after she'd realized who they were meeting with, she about fled. No matter what the others thought about the Childlike Emperor, they were underestimating him. Melody's mother had warned her a lot of times, and even though she knew her mom was selfish and cruel and a total jerk now, the stories she'd heard... While everyone else chatters on, she's nonchalantly sending text after text, her pumpkin spiced latte hovering just off the table next to her, absolutely trying to avoid thinking about the fact that her card listed the psychotic Unseelie hosting them as her sponsor. That was, that was not so great. So instead she's just reading the team's surface thoughts as she texts -all the while doing an amazing job at pretending to not care about everyone else's initial reports and explanations. That is, until Mobius speaks up. The nerve of that pompous little nerd... "My fault? Ha!" Melody looks around at everyone before returning her gaze to the pompous Mageling, waits a beat, and then adds a second "Ha! Your stupid magical screwup must've scrambled your brains too, huh?" Crossing her arms imperiously, she finally looks at their babyfaced interrogator and starts to set the record straight. quote:For some reason we stuck around with each other even after the job was done. Why? And how did we stay in contact? "Ha?" The Childlike Emperor asks, his voice full of sarcasm and lies. "Sounds like he's right - like YOU messed up." Why's he grinning so unpleasantly about that? "Did we?" Melody asks, not bothering to explain if she's using the royal 'we' or just diffusing the blame the second she can. It's probably some of both anyways. "Yeah sure, we may've not gotten out with the Silver Chalice, but it's destroyed. We had to run... from the ruined home of one of our enemies. And someone turned traitor on our team - as Darkstar and I planned." She sounds so incredibly smug about that last point, it's almost a shame it's not actually true in any way. "He's a a triple agent, he just doesn't realize it yet." She taps her temple, grinning at the reminder to all that their thoughts aren't guaranteed to be their own. "Though if you must know Mobius, all he kept thinking about was how annoying you sound and 'what a prick you are'. His words, not mine." Nah, those were her words. No longer looking at the Child Emperor, Melody's cast her gaze towards her peers, her so-called equals, the lesser miscreants she'll soon command. "Sure, some of you all screwed up. A lot." She waves a hand in the air, and a magical neon arrow points directly at Mobius. "I mean, really just, it's almost a little ridiculous and you should be ashamed of yourself, but I digress." Her tone snapping back to beguiling so fast you'd swear the anger was never present, she presses on. "But we DIDN'T mess up, not really. Know how many people could've pulled off what we did?" A ton, probably. "Not many. " "That's not what you actually think," the Childlike Emperor points out. Melody shrugs, then puts a hand to her heart, partly for emphasis but mostly to see who all stares at her cleavage other than Delilah. She's starting to get into her speech. "It's not what I think - it's what I feel. But just look at the facts everyone - we all made it out of their in one piece, and there's no way that should've happened. Just look at us! Yeah, some people see a robot, and an undead, and a peasant, a famous princess, and etcetera. But I see power, promise, competence, a famous princess, and etc. We've made a name for ourselves already, and that's just the start of what's planned for us. That's an Oath." That's one step above a promise, which these non-Fae aren't apt to understand - but Childlike Emperor will. For better or worse, Melody's betting on these idiots. And then, with a shrug, she adds. "Oh, and I paid for the team to get Froyo when the caper was over, it was great." Also, probably why they'd stuck around - while they may've bickered during the mission, at least the debriefing was fun! quote:The name of your villainous alliance. You can say it as if it is is the name, and multiple ones can be related if you are giving an in-character retelling. Eventually, we’ll have a vote to decide on it. quote:A vote for who the mastermind of the caper was. Again this can be done in-character, and while you can all you like claim credit, this vote has to be for someone other than yourself. Backgrounds You and Blackguard were known as a villainous duo before this alliance got started. Is that right? I just thought it was common knowledge we were dating. I mean, kind of dating. Not like I publicized it on Twitter or Facebook or Faebook or anything, but yeah... she's just got this aura about her. Don't get me wrong, she's undead, and hooking up with her like I do is kinda gross. And hot. Very hot. She's got the brawns for my beauty, the brute force for my brains, and she's very, very excited to be around me. While I wish she was higher class, she's a perfectly serviceable girlfriend for now. Mobius knew you before you had your falling out your predecessor. Ughhhhhh, don't remind me. A few years ago, after he got (rightfully) kicked to the curb by his magical mentor, Modius ended up in Avalon due to my island's nature as a magical vortex. And my mother, since she's an idiot, decided to take pity on him and help him. Initially that just meant medical treatment, a place to stay, and meals, but it probably involved some parting gifts (Fae hospitality is famed, after all) and certainly better advice than she's ever given me. And rather than be grateful for the help that my kingdom gave him, the joke of a sorcerer we saved seems to have decided to repay my kindness with treachery. I'd go after him harder, but... for now, it suits me to have him think he intimidates me. As if though, right? Backgrounds I'm interested in ___________________ is the boss. They’ve promised to help you get ahead if you follow orders. ___________________ knew you first as the Other, but hasn’t made the connection. Despite everything, ___________________ once made you doubt your cause. Influence You pretend to be all business, but without your old support network, you rely on this lot more than you want to. Give two of your peers Influence over you. Blackguard - It's strange, but I actually sort of like her. Her rightfully adoring me and serving my interests helps with that, but it's more than that. She's actually, I dunno, a different person that actually matters somehow? At least our current arrangement is straightforward, unlike some of my feelings for her. STRAIN - Of course we have some weird Terminator on the team. STRAIN seems to be doing her best to prove Clarke's Third Law right - some of the things she can do with her, I think they're called nanomachines, are rather impressive. Unfortunately for me though, the stupid machines swarming throughout her really throw off my attempts to read her mind, and from what I understand, she can use her technological wizardry to mess with my phone. Swear to Goddess, she'd better not hack any of my accounts or access those pics Delilah and I have been sending back and forth... Roll +Infamy (that is, just a straight roll) for Birthright. Got a 7, picking "They will try to influence you through your peers. Someone gains Influence on you." Rauri fucked around with this message at 20:46 on Jun 2, 2016 |
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Jun 1, 2016 05:01
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