Samuel_Tow

I have a question that I think I can keep short and concise.

The Mission Architect appears to be limited to some kind of virtual reality propagated by Architect Entertainment. What is the "reality" impact of this? Does that mean that all missions we create are all locked within the AE building and essentially "not real?" Does that mean we can't pretend that the storyline we made is actually real, rather than just a work of fiction within fiction?

That could be both good and bad, I suppose. On the one hand, it kind of bugs me that my duel between my namesake hero and his signature villain won't be "real." On the other hand, then I don't have to worry about writing some stupid, impossible plot and have it disproved by canon because it's not "real."

After seeing the screenshots linked to from the Updater, I am not a LOT more excited about the Mission Architect than I ever was, and that's saying something when you consider I found this to be one of the coolest things yet even before. I'm slightly bothered by the tickets mechanic and the unlockables (are those per character or per account?), but giving full rewards for enemies defeated is good enough for me. Can't wait to try this out

[ QUOTE ]
Actually, it means you can SKIP taking the first or second power in the Travel Power Pools and, at level 6, pick the travel power immediately. No pre-requisites.

[/ QUOTE ]

Is this for real? This is... A bit much for a reward this late in the years...

[ QUOTE ]
I like this!

[/ QUOTE ]

Thank you kindly!

I'm in a bit of a downtime at the moment, but I should get around to finishing this soon. I've not yet lost the drive and inspiration, so I am determined to finish this.

Dreams bring desire. The desire to do. The desire to be. The desire to feel. But when the waking world refuses to deliver, when the dream is always but a dream, then this desire brings nothing but pain and suffering. In our minds, a question hangs. “How long?” How long until we can defeat this monster, defeat this oppressive reality? How long until we have what we want? Or so we keep telling ourselves. But is that what we ask, this hopeful question? Or is it something ever so slightly different? “How long?” How long can we keep believing in fantasies? How long can we keep hanging on the broken hope and silly dreams? How long can we keep deluding ourselves with a better tomorrow? How long can we keep fighting off the day, waiting for night’s sweet embrace with hunger in our hearts? How long can we see that fragile, gentle happy place destroyed, time after time, day after day, again and again and again? How long... Before we surrender to the walking death that is real life?

How long did he wait in the blackness of the void, alone with his thoughts and alone with his dreams? He could no longer remember. In the darkness, time stood still, silent and unmoving. There was no sense of motion, no sense of change... No sense of danger, deep within the monster’s den, for this was a gentle monster, one which cared and protected. And in the darkness, he felt protected. In the darkness, he felt safe. Like a soft, fluffy pillow, the darkness supported him when he slept, lulling him into ever more lucid, wondrous dreams. Strange dreams, so delightful and enticing, dreams of what cannot, should not be, and yet what... Really should. Or were those dreams at all? In the darkness, one never really knew for sure. But in his head, a new question banged about. No longer was he preoccupied with the grating pressure of tenacious resistance against accepting the truth. No, this was something different. Something else entirely. “Why not?”

The presence of his host was gone, retreated into the depths of its domain, away from the prying eyes of its guest. It deserved it privacy, after all. But even hidden so deep, even so far away into the darkness, he could still feel it, now more than ever before. Why? He could not know and, truth be told, he no longer even cared. This mysterious creature which shared his home with him now felt closer than ever before. Familiar, interesting and... Alluring in a very real, palpable way. In their own peculiar way, these two odd creatures had formed that neither of them fully understood.

But time did not stand still forever. Eventually, the darkness stirred and a gentle, soothing breeze brought a familiar sensation closer and closer. This gentle softness could mean one thing, and one thing only – his host was back.

He: Welcome back. Are you done thinking?

He seized the initiative, no longer content to be a mere observer.

Voice: No...

A surprisingly... Distant voice sighed.

He: No?

Voice: I don’t know what to think anymore, I just...

He: Hey, hey, hey! Don’t be like this!

Voice: Be like what?

He: All dark and gloomy and depressed and...

Voice: Do you think I WANT to feel this way?

He: Honestly... Yes. Yes, I do.

Voice: What?

He: You’re always looking for the negative side of things and for the things that disappoint you. It’s like you don’t feel right unless the world hates you and everything is grim and hopeless.

Voice: Well, if you would get your head out of the clouds, you would see that I’m right, however much you may not want to admit it.

He: So?

Voice: So?!? What do you mean “so?!?” I hate it when you do this!

He: Think about it, though. Yes, maybe the world is a horrible, terrible place. Yes, maybe the hope that you can find a better place, that you can make a better place... Maybe that’s empty, too. I’ll admit, it probably is, but so what?

Voice: I give up...

He: So your life sucks. I get it. Do you think there’s anyone whose life doesn’t? The question, though, is what are you going to do about it? Are you going to spend what remains of it crying about how horrible it is, or are you going to do something to try and change it?

Voice: There’s nothing to be done about it!

He: Which brings us back to “so?” Everybody dies, sooner or later. All creatures, great and small, even the immortal gods eventually meet their fate, as you should well know. We’re not going to live forever, you and I, so why not make the best use that we can of the time we have left? Maybe it will come to nothing. Who knows? But even if life ends as miserable as it is, at least it will feel better if we try.

Voice: And how does that fit into your coming here to die?

He: Why? Are you looking for someone to tear you apart and eat you?

Voice: I’m not going to tear you apart!

He: A-ha-ha-ha-ha!

A loud, belly voice rang like a bell in the stiff darkness.

He: Ha-ha-ha! I love it when you get embarrassed like that!

Voice: I’m not embarrassed!

He: Ha-ha-ha! No? Show me your face. I’ll bet you’re blushing!

Voice: Don’t be stupid! It’s just... That’s not how I do things, that’s all. That’s all!

He: He-he-he! Sure, of course. Whatever you say.

Voice: It’s true! And stop laughing! It’s not funny!

He: Oh-ho-ho! Oh, no? Then why am I laughing so hard?

Voice: Because you’re an idiot?

He: Well... Besides that...

Voice: Dear gods... Of all who could have walked into my lair, why him?

He: Maybe I was the only one too charming and funny to eat?

For a moment, deathly silence gripped the darkness, and an eerie stillness pervaded the air.

He: Wait, that didn’t go over too well. I was just joking. I’m sorry if I...

Voice: No... No, you were right. Many have come into my lair... So, so many... And of all of them, you are the only one I could not bring myself to harm... Not ever. I just couldn’t do it. I... I wanted to hate you so much... I wanted to pretend you were bad, but... But... You’re not bad... You’re a good person.

He: You’re not half-bad, yourself.

Voice: Oh, don’t joke about it. I’m the world’s most pathetic monster. You were supposed to be my pray, I was supposed to seduce and consume you, and instead... Instead I’ve whining and complaining to you, and going on and on and on about how much I hate my life. It’s just... Pathetic...

He: That’s not true, and I’m going to keep saying this until it sinks in. You are not pathetic. In fact, there’s something I have to say. I’ve been meaning to say it for some time. You are the kindest, gentlest, most caring person I have ever met, bar none.

Voice: You’re just saying that to make me feel better.

He: Well, partly... But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I have honestly never met anyone who has been this nice to me... Or ever put up with me for so long, come to think of it.

Voice: With your charming wit and lovable personality, how could that have ever been true! I would have thought others would flock to you all the time!

He: Sarcasm. That’s good! Does that mean you’re feeling better?

Voice: A little. Why are you trying so hard to make me feel better? It’s something I wanted to ask you for a while.

He: Heh... I don’t know, actually. It just... Bothers me to see you feeling down.

Voice: Really?

He: Well, yes... You’re doing so much for me. Keeping me alive is a big thing in my book! I guess trying to lift your mood as best I can is the least I can do to repay you. Well, it’s the only thing I can do, really, given the situation.

Voice: You are one of a kind, you are.

He: I am?

Voice: All those who came here... All they ever cared about was themselves. Their pleasure, their booty, their fortune. But you... You are the first who has ever cared about me.

He: What can I say? I’m a caring kind of person.

Voice: Thank you. Thank you so much.

He: So, does that mean you like me?

Voice: Maybe.

He: Wait. “Maybe” is good. “Maybe” is great!

Voice: And maybe... It is better left unsaid.

He: So, can we agree that life doesn’t have to be as dark and gloomy as it appears?

Voice: No.

He: No?

Voice: But we CAN agree that, maybe, even if it is, then so what?

An odd, warm feeling slowly wafted from the cold of the darkness. Even though he could not see into the blackness of the void, he could feel, deep down in his heart, that his companion was smiling at him from across the darkness.

He: Well, that’s a start.

Voice: It is ironic, though.

He: What is?

Voice: I am the dreamweaver. I am the one who creates dreams and fantasies for others, who brings their inner-most desires to the surface. It’s what I do, and I know how that turns out. It never lasts. They always wake up in the end, always reject the fantasy, refuse to believe it... And yet here you are, a common creature, giving me a fantasy that I can almost believe in. It feels that... That if I just... Allow myself to believe, then maybe... Maybe it can come true.

He: And what fantasy is that?

Voice: Naughty, naughty! You know how these things work. If I told you, it wouldn’t come true.

He: Maybe you can just give me a little hint?

Voice: Tell you what – if you’re still alive when it happens, you will know.

He: That’s good enough, I suppose.

Voice: But I should leave you now. I’m tired, and I’m sure you’d like to rest, as well.

He: Tired? I didn’t know you got tired. Do you sleep?

Voice: Don’t ask stupid questions.

He: Will I ever get to see you?

Voice: Maybe... Rest now, and eat. We will talk more later.

And with that, the darkness fell silent once more, but the cold of the great hall no longer felt as chilling. A strange kind of warmth coloured the air and filled every crevice of space, almost as if a creature which had thus far been cold and distant was now so much closer. Close enough to touch. Close enough to feel. Closer, in fact, than anyone he had ever felt before. Was it true? Or was he merely getting used to the conditions? In truth, it may have been a little bit of both. For in the darkness, a strange, unspoken dream, was slowly, unnoticeably... Turning quite so very real. But dreams don’t come true... Do they?

Can a dream that feels so real we can almost touch it truly become real if we just wish for it hard enough? Can a dream which makes the heart sing really come true, if we just allow ourselves to believe? Maybe. And then again, maybe not. But in the darkness of the night, what does any of that really matter? What, when a wonderful dream can seem more real than a horrible truth? But even if it is just a dream, even if it is just a beautiful wish... What if the morning’s light brings not an end... But merely a beginning?

Isn’t that worth wishing for? Isn’t that worth believing in? Isn’t that worth living for?

Is it real, that wonderful feeling? Or is it just a deep desire, born of loss and longing, born of a cruel reality? And what is it, this wonderful feeling? Is it love, held deep within our hearts, hidden where others could not break it? Or perhaps the satisfaction of defeating the odds and finally making things go our way? Or maybe it’s happiness, pure and unbridled, because it is a beautiful, kind, perfect world? Or perhaps it is a little bit of each, and something else besides. When darkness comes and survival gives way to dream, what this feeling is no longer seems important. It is there, and that is all that matters. It is there, in the depths of a beautiful dream, a feeling so powerful, so indescribable, so magical and alluring, that it seems to make life worth living.

And yet, it is always just out of reach. Always so close, and always not quite close enough. Whenever we feel like we’ve grasped that feeling, whenever we are ready to bask in its radiance... The morning brings an end. An end to the dream, an end to the feeling. We wake up, and we survive another day, hoping, wanting, waiting for our next chance chase that feeling, our next chance to chase the dream. But that is all it ever is – a dream, an illusion, the notion of a pretty feeling that we will never feel. And in the light of day, we struggle not to think, for to realise the truth of this would... Simply bring too much pain.

But what if morning never came? What if darkness ruled eternal, if the dream of the night could never end? What if we could trade one life, for one chance to grasp that feeling?

He had already made his choice. It was not the world in the light of day he wanted. That is what he left behind to come here. No, what he wanted was something else entirely, something that could only be found in the very heart of darkness. And so he waited, alone in the dark, alone in the cold, alone in the void. The darkness spared hit. It protected him, it provided for him, it took care of him. This was not the fanged jaw of a rabid beast, not in the slightest. No, this was the warm embrace of a gentle giant, the soft kiss of a pretty face. The fiendish horrors from beyond the darkness embraced him like a child in its mother’s arms. And in some small way, it eased his aching heart.

The presence of his host was absent for what seemed like forever, but eventually the soft, soothing voice returned.

Voice: Hey, you’re still here!

He: Well, my word is still worth something, after all!

Neither of them wanted to admit the new-found bond they shared, together in this loneliness. Neither wanted to say it, so they hid behind bad jokes and childish play. But at the same time, neither one could deny the truth.

Voice: Maybe. Or maybe you just like free food!

He: Can’t I like your company AND your food?

Voice: Hypocrite!

He: Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.

Voice: Oh, now that was just low!

He: Isn’t my charming wit why you like me so much?

Voice: I don’t like you!

He: Yes you do.

Voice: OK, maybe I little. I tolerate you, how’s that?

He: I’m honoured!

Voice: That smart mouth of yours is going to get you killed one of these days.

He: Well, I’m not dead yet.

Voice: Not yet. You’re in the belly of the beast. Why are you so sure that won’t change?

He: Well, you’re not a beast.

Voice: Don’t say that!

The tone of the voice changed dramatically. It grew tense and uncertain.

He: Wait, why?

Voice: Please, you... You can’t say things like this.

He: Why not? Why is that a problem?

Voice: Please just... Stop... You don’t understand what it’s like...

He: You’re right, I don’t. So tell me!

Voice: I can’t afford to like you!

As the shout drifted off into the darkness of the void, silence filled the air in its place. And in the silence, a moment passed where neither one knew what to say.

Voice: I... I just can’t afford to. I’m sorry.

He: But why?

Voice: It’s just... This is not who I am... Not what I am. You... You can’t be my friend... You can’t be... You’re food, I can’t... I can’t afford to like you. I can’t. I... I shouldn’t...

He: Heh. I’m afraid it is you who does not understand. I came to you knowingly and willingly. I understand what it is that you will do to me, and I accept it.

Voice: You idiot! You may be able to just throw your life away but I... I... I can take it. Not now. Not anymore.

He: I’m sorry...

Voice: Don’t be. It’s not your fault. None of this is. It’s been my fault all along. I’m the idiot here... It’s always been me.

He: Don’t say that.

Voice: But it’s true! I’m a monster, a creature of darkness. I exist to seduce others and consume them, to kill, feed and live. And yet... And yet I feel... I don’t even know what to call it... Compassion? Guilt? Affection? I’m a predator, and I feel bad about having to kill to survive... Pretty dumb, huh?

The voice feigned a little laugh, but the gasping of tears could be heard behind it.

He: *sigh* When I first came here, I came to die, there are no two ways about it. But I stayed... I don’t even remember why I stayed anymore. I don’t even remember how long it’s been since I got here. But there is one thing I DO know without a shadow of a doubt. I have never regretted staying with you!

Voice: Please don’t...

He: I stayed with you because I chose to. I stayed because it felt like the right thing to do. I stayed with you because I am convinced you’re not a monster.

Voice: Then you’re as much a fool as I thought you were. You don’t know me! You don’t know what I am. You don’t even know what I look like!

He: I don’t CARE what you look like!

Voice: But...

He: I don’t care what you look like. I don’t care what you are. I don’t care what you do. I know WHO you are, and in my eyes, that’s the only thing that matters.

Voice: I wish I could believe that. I really wish I could... But this is an illusion. Trust me, I know. Illusions is what I do to survive, and I can tell you just how hollow and empty they are. Pretty dreams that shatter with cold brutality with the morning light.

He: So what?

Voice: What do you mean “so what?” They’re not real?

He: Have you had this feeling that... That there is hope for a better tomorrow? That when you wake up the next morning, the world will be a better place. That if you just wish for it hard enough, anything can happen?

Voice: No...

He: You’re lying.

Voice: Yes... Maybe... I’m not sure... But even if I’ve felt that, I know it’s not real.

He: Why can’t it be?

Voice: What are you saying? It can’t be real because it’s not real!

He: You say it is a pretty dream that ends with the light of day, when real life begins. And what if I said that the light of day is the real dream, a nightmare from which you cannot wake up? What if I said that it’s the darkness that brings real life with it, that brings a world worth living in?

Voice: Then I’d call you a fool.

He: And I would agree with you. But if it makes me a fool to believe in happiness, to believe a better tomorrow... Then a fool I will gladly be.

Voice: I wish I could believe that, I really do, but I... I just can’t. It’s not real.

He: Do you know why I choose to come here to die?

Voice: No, you said you didn’t have an answer.

He: I lost someone close to me. Very, very close...

Voice: I’m sorry...

He: So am I... But it was all my fault. I had to make a choice – save myself, or save my loved one. I wanted to... I can’t even say it... I tried, I tried so hard, but... I chose life. I chose myself. Choosing life doesn’t take courage. It is choosing death that takes the greatest strength. I chose life. I was a coward. And in choosing so, I lost... Everything...

Voice: My god...

He: That is why I came here. Why I came to you. I don’t deserve to live, but I am too much of a coward to take my own life. So I looked for a monster even greater than myself, a monster that would take my life for me. But I was wrong...

Voice: Please don’t do this...

He: You are not a monster. You have done nothing wrong. You have fought to survive the only way you knew how.

Voice: You shouldn’t...

He: No, I’m the real monster. I betrayed the full, unquestioning trust of another. I sacrificed another’s life to save my own worthless hide. When I came here, I wanted to die... Until I met you. You are the kindest, most gentle, most caring person I’ve ever met...

Voice: That’s not true!

He: It’s true and you know it. You can’t keep denying who you are. You are not alone in this world. You don’t have to keep living in this... This hell.

Voice: I have no choice!

He: Yes, you do. And maybe it’s a dream. Maybe it’s a fantasy. Maybe it’s an illusion that will never come true. But you can’t know that until you try!

Voice: I’ve tried...

He: Then try again! And again and again! Anything worth dreaming about is worth fighting for. Maybe you can never achieve it no matter how long you struggle. Maybe. But if you never try, then nothing good will ever happen.

Voice: I don’t know. I... I need to think. I need to be alone. I...

He: I’m sorry, I got carried away and...

Voice: No! No, you... You were right. Maybe... I just... I don’t know what to think anymore. I’m sorry, I need to be alone. I need... I need to think.

He: Think, then. I will be here, waiting to hear your conclusion.

Voice: Thank you.

And in an instance, silence returned to the darkness, and the presence of another sunk into the depths of the abyss once more. The encounter left a mixture of uncertain feelings behind it, both confusing and fascinating. The confidence and playfulness of the mysterious creature’s voice seemed to hide a gentle, fragile personality, one consumed with sadness and hopelessness, one haunted by visions of what could not be. And he, a stranger with a strange past, a stranger with a death wish, a stranger with a voice so confident, drew strength not from the righteousness of his cause, but from the surrender of one who had nothing left for the world to take. And yet, in the darkness, these two strange creatures came together in a strange relationship, both victims of a cruel fate, more close together than they could have ever imagined.

In the darkness of the night, all seems possible, all seems real. It is up to us to choose what we accept and what we reject. Do we accept the world as it is, and condemn the dream as cruel torture, a vision of what cannot and should not have, as our minds taunting us with every wound that we suffer? Or do we accept the dream, embrace it, believe it, and fight the waking day as the obstacle that it is, as the problem that must be solved to make our dream come true? In the end, it all depends on how strongly we desire, and how much we care. It all depends on what is really real when the day is done dusk’s sweet embrace lulls us back into a better place.

Thank you kindly

As with most things I write, that's... Not really how I intended for it to go. It started as a fairly simple (and obvious) idea, but I got carried away, I suppose. Luckily, this story isn't as heavy on exposition, which means it'll be much easier to write. I hope the stylistic (read: basic) approach to descriptions doesn't end up hurting more than it helps, but I'm really trying to avoid using anything but generic terms (say, "light" vs. "lamp").

As long as I can figure out what happens next, all should be well in the world. Let's hope that spending New Year's Eve writing will make for more inspiration next year

To live is to die, slowly, day by day. To live dying... But to dream... To dream, that is something else entirely. To dream is to die living. To abandon the real world, abandon our survival, abandon all the things that our bodies force us to do. To live, happy, complete and fulfilled, if even just for a moment. When darkness comes and dreams replace reality, one has to wonder... What is it that really matters? Is it worth denying your dream, safe in the knowledge that the light of dawn will bring the pain back, or is it better to commit yourself to this dream, to abandon all reality, and to commit yourself to it? How much value should one put in a life filled with pain and hardship? How much, when a moment in a beautiful dream can be worth so much more?

We all know that the light of dawn will always come and chase away the dreams. It is the way of things. Or is it? If it just so happens that the light never comes, how can you tell what is real, and what is merely a desire, manifesting itself to us because we want it to be true, rather than because it is true? When morning never comes, it is so very easy to lose ourselves in the dream, to blur the boundary between the darkness and the light, between waking and dream. But perhaps it is for the best. The waking world makes our decisions for us, and we survive merely by recognising these correct decisions and following them. But the dream in darkness is free. We are free to choose, free to be in a place that is perfect, that is right. And when the boundary weakens, so does our resolve to follow the right choices of the world, whatever consequences they may have.

And so he stayed in the darkness for no real reason than because he felt he should. His body told him he should leave and escape the very real mortal danger. His mind told him he should leave, for his chance to get what he came for was gone. And yet his heart begged him to stay... Just because.

Days turned into weeks, and yet the mysterious presence still would not return. The food and supplies were never-ending, the darkness held back, and the feeling of dread and danger seemed to have disappeared. In its place, a cold emptiness hung in the air. It seemed as though all hope had left. Finally, his resolve faltered. It seemed the dream was dead, and he turned to leave. Just then, the darkness rippled, and a voice rang from all directions.

Voice: Wait!

He: What?

Voice: Are you... Leaving?

He: I thought that’s what you wanted?

Voice: Yes... Yes, it was...

He: What is going on here?

Voice: What are you talking about?

He: Last time you were screaming at me to go, now you sound like you’re not even sure you want me to leave!

Voice: That’s not true!

He: Isn’t it?

A simple question, one would think, but as it rang in the darkness, the voice fell silent. It had no answer to give.

He: It’s true, isn’t it? You don’t want me to leave, do you?

Voice: Please don’t do this to me...

The once seductive, confident voice was reduced to little more than a gasping whimper.

He: Do what? I don’t understand anything!

Voice: Please, just stop...

He: What is it?!? Have you been toying with me all this time? Is that what you do?

Voice: No, I...

He: Come on! Kill me! Kill me like you did to all the others!

Voice: I don’t want to!

A powerful shout roared like thunder, and again, the darkness lifted for a mere moment. Again that same strange face flashed in his eyes, a still shot of a terrible revelation. This was not the face of a bestial creature. It was the face of a woman, covered in tears and contorted in deep, deep sadness.

He: Why? Why don’t you want to kill me?

Voice: Because I don’t want to... I never did. I never wanted to kill anybody. All of these men... All of them... Screaming... Begging for their lives... Their pain, I... I can still feel it... All the pain... All the suffering...

He: You... You never wanted any of this, did you?

Voice: It’s funny, isn’t it?

The voice spoke through the tears of an ancient creature as the darkness whined in the background.

Voice: Me, the all-powerful dreamweaver, crying like a little girl. I’m supposed to be the demon in the darkness, the terror of the underworld, and here I am, just...

He: Don’t.

Voice: What... Do you mean?

The voice spoke in halting sentences.

He: Don’t do this to yourself.

Voice: Heh, that’s funny, considering it’s you who did that to me...

He: I’m sorry I didn’t understand this earlier, and I’m sorry about what I did.

Voice: It’s not your fault... I... I just couldn’t bring myself to kill you. It’s my own fault.

He: Not wanting to kill is not something to be ashamed of.

Voice: All of the others, they... They weren’t like you. They all came here looking... Ah, hell, I don’t even know what they wanted. But they were all pigs. The lot of them. Cut-throats, murderers, monsters... All of them were horrible... I... I didn’t want to kill any of them, I didn’t, but... But I just told myself that they deserved it. They were... Bad... Deserved to die. I didn’t have a choice, I had to kill, but... But they deserved it...

He: I understand...

Voice: No, you don’t! I wanted to hate you, I wanted to want to kill you! But I just... Couldn’t... You didn’t come here to loot and plunder, didn’t come for selfish gain... You came to me to die... You’re not a bad person, and I just... Just can’t...

He: Listen to me! You did nothing wrong.

Voice: Yes, you “respect” me for preying on people, I get it!

He: That’s not what I mean. You need to kill to survive, but you feel pity for your victims.

Voice: Yes, I’m weak like that! Thanks! Just go away!

He: You’re not weak. Quite the opposite.

Voice: What do you mean?

He: Living doesn’t take courage. You do what you have to. Sometimes it’s unpleasant, sometimes it’s ugly, and sometimes it’s downright horrible. But you do what you have to. That’s how things are.

Voice: What are you saying?

He: I’m saying that when the time comes to choose between life and death, then life is the easy choice. Every fibre of your body, every part of your being is screaming “Live! Live!” It doesn’t take courage to listen to that. Living doesn’t take courage. It’s the right choice to make. Dying is what takes real courage. To choose to die... That’s the hardest choice there is to make.

The voice did not respond, and silence once again ruled the darkness. But though there were no words to hear, there was something very real to feel. A presence, both hidden in the pitch black of the darkness, and at the same time so blindingly obvious it could not be denied. And a presence that felt closer. So much closer.

He: Listen, I’ll leave you if I make you feel bad...

Voice: No! Please... Stay...

He: But I thought you said...

Voice: Please don’t make me say it. Just... Stay.

He: Well, I don’t really have anywhere else to go anyway. Plus, your food is delicious! Muh-hum! I’d have to be an idiot to pass up that kind of opportunity. And, now I know you’re a softy and you won’t kill me, so how can I pass up that kind of an opportunity?

Voice: Don’t push your luck, smarty! I might still lop off an a body part.

He: Wow, then this really will cost me an arm and a leg!

Voice: Aw! That was so bad it actually hurt!

Though the voice said so, a soft, jubilant giggle wafted in the wind. The creature which was so sad mere moments ago appeared to have perked up quite a bit.

Voice: Listen, I... Need to be alone for a while. But I’ll be back soon!

He: Don’t worry about me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m hungry!

And so the creature sunk back into the darkness, while he sat down to eat once again. But something had changed. The food tasted sweeter, more delicious than it ever had. Was this the creature’s doing, a sort of gesture of good will? Or was it just a state of mind, the satisfaction of doing a good thing? Well... Does it really matter? In the darkness, that which you desire can be much more real than that which is. When the line between the waking world and the world of dreams washes away, everything becomes possible for no reason other than because that’s what feels right. And was this a dream, or was it real? For all it mattered, it might as well have been real.

The relationship between these two very odd creatures seemed too improbable to be real, but in the darkness of the void, who could claim otherwise? Real or imaginary, this relationship... Was just beginning.

“Here in the darkness, all can be real, all can be yours. You must but wish for it.” It sounds like a fairy tale, like a beautiful dream hiding an ominous secret. And yet, that which we cannot see in the darkness feels so much more real than that which we can see and hear and touch. The fear one feels, alone in the dark, is much greater than any terror of the waking world. And, just as well, the dreams one dreams, the dreams one wishes were true, are more real than reality itself. Light brings knowledge. Light brings reason. But light also brings pain. The pain of a cruel, uncaring world where beauty dies and happiness is an illusion. Light brings misery. It is the darkness that brings desire. In the darkness, all that we want to believe in, all that we wish to have, all that we dream of doing… Can be real.

We yearn, all of us, for a better life, a different life, a life created just as we would create it. But that is not what life is. That is not how life is. That is not what is real. But what is real, at the end of the day? When the light fades and darkness comes, when the mind rests and surrenders to its own emotions, what is truly, really real? Is it the world that surrounds us, or is it the world deep within us? Is it better to deny what we want, or is it better to surrender to it, to live it, if just for a moment? It may not be true, but that doesn’t make it any less real. And at the end of the day, when light gives way to darkness, when sight gives way to thought, and when understanding gives way to dream… In the end, what is it that really matters?

He did not know. In darkness he sat, his path back to reality open to him and waiting. Yet he did not take it. Where he’d come from, he didn’t want to go back. Where he was, he was because that is what he wanted. He had sought out the mythical monster in the darkness, wanted to share in its dream, to share its desire. He knew full well what the consequences of his actions were, but he had already made his choice. He had already chosen which reality he would believe in. And if the monster denied him, he would just have to wait until it changed its mind… Or until the reality he rejected finally claimed his life. Either way, he had little left to lose.

Days went on, and the voice remained silent. Yet the darkness did not feel empty in the least. There was a presence there, sneaking, skulking, quietly watching and never straying far. The darkness watched him, and in his blindness, he watched back. But he was mortal, and in a waiting game, his immortal adversary would surely win. In time, thirst and hunger ravaged his body. Eventually, the elements seemed like they would exact their final toll. And as he stared death in the face, he finally admitted defeat.

He: Well, I guess you win, creature. You wanted me gone, and pretty soon I will be. I didn’t get what I came for, but at least I tried.

The silence stirred. The darkness rippled. An undeniable, unsettling and at the same time indescribable feeling pierced the air. And in the quiet of the black, a voice spoke.

Voice: No…

He: No?

Voice: No, you will not die…

A strange kind of tension hung in the air. What did the voice mean?

He: I keep telling myself that, but unless you’d like to offer me some food and water, I don’t think I can keep convincing myself of that.

Voice: Look behind you…

The voice trailed off as he turned around. And then he beheld something he could scarcely believe. Like ink floating in water, the darkness receded, leaving behind it an enormous pile of the tastiest, most scrumptious-looking food one could imagine. Was this a trick? Was this just a dream? An illusion, perhaps, born of the death rattle of a decaying body? Was it real? Instinct insisted that he pounce on this opportunity, but his heart had questions.

He: Why did you…

Voice: Don’t ask. And don’t you dare thank me! Just… Eat. Then leave. You have to leave this place.

He: I will accept your hospitality, creature. But you are a bigger fool than me if you think I will listen.

Voice: Look, I can take the food away just like I gave it.

He: Really? Then why don’t you? You don’t want me here. What easier way to get rid of me than simply letting me starve?

Voice: Ooh! Damn you! FINE! Do whatever you want!

The voice disappeared in anger once again, but its threat did not materialize. The vital food it had offered remained, just waiting for him to satiate himself on it. And the creature itself did not stray far. It made it seem like it stormed off into the depths of the abyss, but he could feel it was close. Always close, always looking. He had heard many legends about this ravenous beast, but in its direct presence, none of them felt even the slightest bit true. This was no feral monster that existed for the sole purpose of trapping travellers and taking their lives. It was something else. Something else entirely.

It wasn’t light where he stood, but it wasn’t darkness, either. It was as if the blackness of the void had receded from around him. He could see, just about, but it was more because the darkness allowed him than anything else. His host had given him a little corner where he was safe and secure. Which is strange, considering it wanted him out. Considering it was supposed to want to kill him. A little spot where he stood alone. But he was never truly alone. His companion was always there, always watching from the darkness. Hiding, it seemed, out of sight, but never out of mind.

Until the day it spoke to him.

Voice: Why won’t you leave?

He: Why do you want me out?

Voice: Why do you keep doing that?!?

He: Doing what?

Voice: You answer every question with a riddle or another question!

He: I… Guess because I don’t have an answer.

Voice: How can you not have an answer? You came here fully knowing you would lose your life, and you don’t have an answer as to why?

He: Do you find it that surprising?

Voice: You did it again!

He: I’m sorry…

Voice: Yes, I do find it that surprising. How can someone do something like that for no reason at all?

He: I never said I didn’t have a reason. I only said I had no answer.

Voice: Come again?

He: You know, I’m surprised at you. You are supposed to be the dreamweaver, a creature of darkness who makes a man’s dreams seem more real than reality itself. Yet you are unable to understand how I can do something that I want, even though I know it’s going to get me killed? Really?

Voice: You shouldn’t believe everything people say…

He: You’re right. People spend their entire lives looking for things to be afraid, even if they have to exaggerate and make up wild stories.

Voice: What, you think there’s nothing to be afraid of in the world?

He: Honestly… No, I don’t believe there is.

Voice: Ha! Then you are a fool! What of the hungry animal which means to kill and eat you? Do you not fear that?

He: No, I respect that.

Voice: What?

He: An animal fights to survive, and if it has to, it will kill for its food. Just like I do when I survive in the wilderness. It’s the natural way of things.

Voice: But it wants to kill you!

He: No, it doesn’t. It wants to survive. Just like we all want to. What right do I have to condemn it for that? No, I respect the animal for wanting to survive, and I do not judge it.

Voice: But…

He: And I do not judge you.

Voice: What? No…

He: You do what you do because you need to. You have to survive. Just like I would kill an animal to eat it, just like an animal would kill me for food, so you do what you do to survive. Others may demonise and fear you, but I do not. I respect your right to live, as I respect any other creature.

Voice: No, no, no!

He: What’s wrong?

Voice: Argh! Would you stop doing that?!?

He: Doing what?

Voice: You can’t say things like that!

He: Things like what? What did I do?

Voice: Why... Why are you doing this to me?

A profound feeling of sadness pierced his heart, a feeling the source of which he could not comprehend. But the voice was gone, and the creature’s presence had gone with it. Blind and confused, he knew not what had happened. He knew only a single thing – that he had hurt this strange creature who’s den he refused to leave, and hurt it badly. Why, he couldn’t know, but that had been the farthest from his intentions.

He: I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!

He shouted into the darkness, but got no response. Something had happened. Something unexpected. Something that hurt in a way that didn’t seem logical at all. But what? And why? There was no answer. Only darkness. Only quiet. Only the dream of what could be, without the knowledge of what is. Again, he had a choice. He felt like he should apologise to his host and leave as he had been asked. It was the right thing to do after what had happened. But he didn’t. He stayed. He stayed not because of his conviction, not this time. He stayed not for whatever reason it was that had brought him there originally. Why he stayed, he didn’t even understand. But he felt that there was more to do, more to see. That perhaps... Perhaps the dream could be real. That somehow, maybe, what we do not see in the darkness will somehow end up being what he wanted it to be.

Somehow...

The light shines brightest in the dark, but it also casts the blackest shadow. Yet sometimes, it is this very blackness that we seek. It is the darkness beyond the light for which we yearn. We fear what we see, but dream of that which we cannot. It is not the night that one must fear, for it brings the calm and warmth of the dream that cannot be. No, it is the morning that brings the pain, for it brings a world full of pain and hardship to our eyes, bright and vibrant such that we cannot help but see. And what we see, we cannot change. What we see, we cannot simply wish away. What we see, we cannot escape from. Sometimes… Sometimes, it is easier to plunge yourself in darkness, to banish all around you to a realm where it can neither see not hear nor touch you. Sometimes, it is easier escape, and to forget.

As the darkness enveloped him, his light burned stronger, illuminating the path descending ever deeper into the monster’s den. A winding, twisting road, rife with hidden obstacles that almost seemed to lurk in the shadows, waiting to trip, slash or impale him. A perilous journey, one not committed to lightly, but he forged on nevertheless. Through the darkness he walked, and for darkness he was headed, his way back to the light growing ever longer, ever harder, but he did not stop. His was determination unbefitting a creature of his kind, but he had his reasons. He had his reasons to seek out the darkness that lurked beneath.

And as his journey led him from his path of peril into a great hall, it seemed that he had arrived. Darkness leaned against his light from every direction as he peered into the black pit before him, as if just waiting to consume him at the first available opportunity. But it was not the darkness he feared. No, it was the darkness he had come for. And now that he had found it, the darkness spoke.

Voice: Welcome, stranger.

A soft, eerie voice gently floated on a cold breeze from the depths of the abyss, and with it, an ancient presence stirred. It was close, palpably so, lurking almost within reach, but just out of sight where the darkness pushed against the light.

He: Show yourself!

Voice: What is it that you desire, stranger?

He: I desire for you to show me your face!

Voice: So you say, and yet you hide behind the light like a shield of protection. Come to me, stranger, come into the shadow, and you will see. I will show you all that you desire to see, and so much more.

He: It is not more that I want, creature! It is you I have come for!

Voice: Me?

He: Does that surprise you?

Voice: Only in that it is an unusual request, but if it is me that you want, then that is what you will have. Here in the darkness, all can be real, all can be yours. You must but wish for it. Step into the shadow and surrender yourself to me, and your dreams will come true.

He: I have no dreams, creature. I did not come here to dream.

Voice: What? How is that even possible?

He: I wish I had an answer for you, but I do not. Know simply that you cannot tempt me.

Voice: Fool!

A rumbling roar accompanied a gust of wind which seemed to come from all directions, converging on him. He had indeed angered a great power lurking in the darkness, a power that was so much more than a simple sweet, alluring voice.

Voice: Do you think your light will last forever? Do you think you can make your way back out of my domain? I won’t let you!

He: That’s OK. I didn’t come all the way down here to escape.

In a single instance, the winds died down, the floor fell still and a chilling, eerie silence gripped the darkness. It was as if time stood still, just for a moment. Just for a moment, it seemed like the dream was over. Like none of this had ever really happened. But the voice spoke once again.

Voice: I don’t understand.

He: I have no intention of running away. I know what you are, and I know what you have planned for me.

Voice: No, this doesn’t make any sense!

The once confident, seductive voice which seemed to flow like a sweet melody shook, as if shocked and confused, and with it, the darkness rippled.

Voice: I don’t understand. If you know, then why have you come here? What are you looking for?

He: You.

Voice: No…

He: It is you I look for. I have spent many years looking for you, asking others, searching for clues and disturbing secrets long forgotten. You have hidden yourself well, I must admit.

Voice: But if you know what I am, then you know what will become of you.

He: I know. I’ve heard the tales.

Voice: But… Why?

He: I know what is to become of me, and I am not afraid. Now take me!

And in that instance, everything changed. With a simple, quiet click, his light went out, and the darkness rushed forth to consume him like a rabid beast. The palpable, almost physical blackness swirled around him, pressing in and invading. But he did not die as he had expected. The presence in the dark did not do what he expected it to do. Instead, a single sound rang in the still quiet of the darkness. A voice, at the same time familiar and strange. A soft, sweet voice that sounded almost as if it was weeping.

Voice: No… No… No… This is all wrong… This isn’t how it was supposed to happen… This isn’t right…

He: What happened?

Voice: You idiot!

The shout sounded almost like a thundercloud. And with it, light flashed for only just a moment, like the lightning which strikes the ground. And with that flash, an image was imprinted on his eyes. A face, at the same time blurry and indistinguishable, and yet… Somehow strangely beautiful.

Voice: You’re ruining everything! This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen!

He: What are you talking about?

Voice: Ooh! You don’t understand anything! You must leave. Now. I’ve cleared a path for you back to the surface. Grab your light and just… Just go!

He: No!

Voice: What?!?

He: I told you before. I did not come all the way down here to escape.

Voice: What are you talking about? You can’t stay here!

He: Oh, no?

Voice: I mean, I won’t LET you stay here!

He: Oh, that’s fine by me. If you don’t want me here, you’ll just have to kill me.

Voice: Oh, you stupid, stupid, stupid idiot! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

The voice shouted and it screamed, but it did not hurt him. The ravenous darkness weighed heavily upon him, but its hunger was held back. He had walked straight into the beast’s jaws, but the beast refused to bite down. Ranting and raving and talking more to itself than to anyone else, the voice sunk back into the darkness, frustrated and angry for reasons he could not comprehend. Why had this creature which had been depicted as a ruthless predator chosen not to kill him? It was clearly mad at him, yet it chose to storm off where he could not follow, rather than strike out in anger. It did not seem to make sense.

But now he had to make a choice. The creature had allowed him to leave. He could simply turn his light back on, turn around, and take the same path back up as he had taken coming down. But he did not yet have what he had come for. His prize had been denied. But he could wait.

Power Push is essentially a control power in a Blast powerset, whereas Force Bolt is a control power in a support powerset. The powers themselves don't need to be comparable on a per-power basis, because this ignores the context within which they exist in-game. This is a lot like how, say, Dark Melee -> Dark Consumption is largely an inferior endurance drain power than, say, Energy Aura -> Energy Drain. It's a drain power in a damage powerset, as opposed to Energy Drain, which is a drain power in a defence set.

That said, I'm not specifically against upgrading Power Push.

[ QUOTE ]
Good questions. Any suggestions for this "new leveling system"? Perhaps some sort of skill system where your current powers either grow more powerful or can do different types of effects. Like maybe a Jab transforms into a Street Fighter style Dragon Punch, maybe something like that.

[/ QUOTE ]

That's the problem. If I had an answer, I wouldn't be asking the question. I ask, because I cannot imagine what would be left to gain post-50. Upgrading your powers is... Kind of fun, but there is really very little you can upgrade about them before it becomes City of Bright Lights even more than it is.

And there's also the problem that's been mentioned - thematically, where do you go from here? We're already saving the world from aliens, saving the multiverse from destruction and generally fighting some really scary stuff. We're even taking on FRIKKIN' GODS! The only place left to go is playing table tennis with planets, and when a story increases in scale to that level, it becomes exponentially more absurd with every new flip of the page.

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
Well, he'll no longer be at his strongest, if Level 50 is now Level 1.

[/ QUOTE ]
He'll still be level 50, and he'll still have all of his original powers and slots.

[/ QUOTE ]

What, then, is there left to take upon levelling up?

[ QUOTE ]
So, I think it's safe to say that the majority of the people who take focused accuracy aren't running it as a perma-toggle. Most tank and scrapper builds simply can't support that type of endurance drain on their on without needing BOTH miracle + recovery and numina + regen + recovery.

[/ QUOTE ]

I'd like to point out that that's not true. I have a 50 Kat/SR Scrapper who runs Focused Fighting, Focused Senses, Evasion, Combat Jumping and Focused Accuracy all the time, and does so without any sets and without Stamina. Before the Katana speed-up, I was able to run Stealth, too, but I got rid of that before I realised I couldn't afford it anyway. It's not Regen, obviously, but it plays just fine, which is saying something.

Chapter 5: Garbage

The meaning of life... Such a seemingly simple concept, and yet even after spending the better part of my existence looking for it, false leads and wrong answers is all I’ve been able to find. There used to be a time when I felt the truth was so very tantalisingly close as to be almost within my grasp, but failure after failure to reach it has shaken my faith in that particular notion. So much so, in fact, that in these dark times of futile despair, I am beginning to wonder if there really is an answer out there to find, or if I am merely chasing a ghost, doomed to spend eternity reaching for an apparition that appears which isn’t really there. And yet evidence, it would seem, point to the solid fact that there is an answer to be found out there somewhere, waiting for me, hidden and patient. I have seen life trade wisdom for mindlessness, and I have seen life abandon all care and regard for its own meaning, yet I continually see creatures of all shapes and sizes search for meaning in this seemingly meaningless existence. I’ve always held that as some small hope for the future, but I’m beginning to think that there is a much simpler and much more disappointing explanation for it all.

Life is meaning. Life is defined by it and governed by it. Meaning is what separates intelligent life from the many inanimate processes that occur throughout the universe. It is this search for meaning that makes a creature truly sentient, that makes it truly alive, rather than a simple chain of events. “What does this mean?” is a question that has always existed within the vernacular of any living creature which ever existed, and which is asked many, many times in a single life span. Knowing what certain conditions mean, whether they pose a threat, whether they can be used for benefit and what effect they will have on the rest of the environment is what allows life to survive. Understanding is the cornerstone of survival, and meaning – the cornerstone of understanding. Intelligence develops concepts to explain its environment, to understand and predict it. And in so doing, life... Simply is.

I started viewing life as a separate concept when I first became aware of the intricate laws of the universe, long ago when I was still little more than a random though. I learned of the many layers of existence – the worlds stacked on top of each other, of the timeline, fate, destiny and the possibility curve, of the many natures of energy and the laws that govern their flow... I learned a great many things, but above all I learned that things made sense. That if one observed a phenomenon long enough, one could understand its underlying mechanics in such a way as to be able to predict and control it. And, for the most part, that has been true. Life, however, is the paradox. It makes no sense and yields to no understanding. Life, it would seem, does not exist by the laws of the universe. I have tried, and I have never been able to explain it as any combination of any number of universal laws. It is almost as if life exists to defy the very laws I have grown to believe to be immutable.

By far the most obvious of laws broken is the law of existence. In this universe, things can be created and destroyed, but in-between these two events, they exist. Meaning does not. Meaning is a concept, a though, a particular pattern within existence made to represent an idea. Speech, writing, arts, culture... Identity. None of these things truly exist as anything but mere instances of reality, and yet... They have the power to affect the world around them. A written tablet from a dead civilization is nothing more than just another rock on just another planet. Yet in the hands of intelligent life, it has meaning. It has the power to affect change, the power to reshape reality in a way that quite simply should not be possible. Reality affects reality. Things that exist affect other things that exist. Change has to come from somewhere. Yet life... Creates change out of nothing. Just as Irukael and his followers once took what was quite literally nothing, and created existence out of it, so life takes nothing, and creates change.

It is this... Paradoxical nature of life that still gives me hope for an answer. I watch and I see life give meaning to the meaningless, and it gives me hope that one day... That one day life will give meaning to itself. Give meaning to me. I have observed life long and hard, however, and I have seen just how little use creatures make of this power of theirs. Even though they have the power to give meaning to the meaningless, to give meaning to themselves, they choose to not to, acting, instead, as mere mindless, inanimate objects just... Existing for no reason at all. And although my observations have been disappointing, to put it mildly, there have been exceptions all along the time line. None of them have been enough to give me a solid answer, but many have been good enough to teach me to ask better questions. Ultimately, finding the truth requires equal measures of the right questions and the right answers.

But if I have seen encouraging things elsewhere, what I saw on Earth was the polar opposite of hope. Allow me to tell you that I have seen life lose meaning many times before. I have seen creatures enslaved, killed without rhyme or reason, bred to be slaughtered and treated as mere tools to be used without thought or emotion. I don’t hold myself accountable by any code of morality, I am above the simple tools that fledgling life uses to govern itself, but even I can appreciate the... Repugnance of pure, unadulterated cruelty. The tendency of life to pray on other life, to rob it of all meaning and snuff it out of existence is something I find... Very deeply disturbing. If life is really so meaningless that one can simply toy with it like it were a plaything without any degree of respect, then one has to question the merit of one’s own life.

But enough idle contemplation. This is a story, after all, and a story about particular events, not general concepts thrown around generally. A point must exist in every story, and in this particular one, the point is Rikimaru, or more particularly, his quest to acquire a “Dark Messiah” to forward his own greed and arrogance. I must admit that his actual plan of bridging the divide between the world of the living and the Netherworld is quite ingenious, as is his capitalization on his own body altered by negative energy to use as an antenna to steal the essence of the spectres from the other side. Though not very meaningful, his plan is a captivating, but idle curiosity. Oh, no, it is his execution of this plan that is worthy of some note.

To bring his plan to fruition, Rikimaru needs a child spawned from parts of his own altered body and that of a purely Earthen female. That sounds really simple when you say it fast enough. In truth, however, this venture goes against several laws of nature and probability, and although a satisfactory result is quite really possible, the staggering number of variables involved makes it quite very improbable. In essence, the birth of a Dark Messiah, though vaunted as the fulfilment of inescapable destiny, depends most prominently on random chance, and a fairly slim chance, at that. Rikimaru’s solution towards improving the process? Try again. Yes, as annoyingly simplistic as that.

And herein lies by far, far my greatest disappointment. Here is a creature both intelligent and driven, possessing the power to give meaning to that which has none, and what does he do with it? Nothing. Having traded his wisdom for feral hunger and abject stupidity, not only does Rikimaru waste his considerable potential for creation, but he actually engages in unbridled destruction, as though his mistakes were just not numerous enough. Each attempt at producing a Dark Messiah ends up with the creation of a single life. Though these misshapen children are never perfect enough to serve as the key to unlock the gates of power for Rikimaru, they are still living, thinking beings. Yet, because they are useless and unwanted, Rikimaru has them... Well, killed. Like the unwanted exhaust of some infernal machine, Rikimaru’s flawed creations are cast out of existence with nary a second thought. Life, this most beautiful, most proud of all the facets of existence, is cast out like reviled garbage, unneeded, unwanted and disrespected. I have seem much horror in the many aeons I have watched over this wretched prison of existence, I have seen much wanton destruction of life and disregard for its meaning, but never before have I seen such heedless barbarism before.

I have spent my life searching for my own meaning by trying to find the meaning of others. But this human, this... This monster... He has abandoned all regard for meaning and life. He has voided his own existence in this insulting affront to the life’s inalienable right to live. And by my soul, I would have intervened to put a stop to his barbarism, had I not seen a single glimmer of hope in this disgusting massacre.

Though my senses are vast and far-reaching, I am still not all-seeing. I must pick my observations carefully, for I cannot observe all things at all times. I had found Rikimaru uninteresting and stopped observing him for some time, preventing me from seeing his monstrosity as it developed. When I returned to find the affront he had created, I thought to punish him for his sins, but a side effect of the slaughter he imposed on his own kind caught my attention before I was ready to act. A single child, though be it fortunate or misfortunate for its fate, had survived Rikimaru’s madness. It was a child known to her mother simply as Mayumi. Rikimaru did not give his tools names, but Mayumi’s mother proved to be of softer heart. Rather than surrender her daughter to her master’s knife, she took her and ran away.

I have been watching Mayumi for quite some time now, she has been so endlessly interesting to me it is difficult to describe. Of all the creatures I have ever observed, she has given me perhaps by far the closest I have ever found to a real answer to my search for the meaning of life. It confounds my intelligence how something so... Beautiful could have been born from such madness and cruelty, from such chaos and disregard for life. It has been said many times irony is the greatest truth in existence, so for a creature this robbed of meaning to reveal to me even a small glimpse of the meaning of life actually rings true.

The story of Mayumi is long and complicated, far too much to tell it without having told several other stories first, and thought there is a bit more yet to tell before it comes to that, let me say something else, first. She was hurled into a meaningless existence for no reason whatsoever, summoned forth by an uncaring creator, and then discarded like unwanted garbage. In every way, Mayumi’s existence is the very effigy of my bane, of the mindlessness and pointlessness of life as a general concept. No reason, no purpose, no meaning. And yet everything she has done since her creation, everything she has become... Has meaning. She has found meaning, she has found a purpose, she has defied the seemingly insurmountable odds and gained not just true sentience, but gained a meaningful life, as well.

How? Well... This is where it gets really interesting.

[ QUOTE ]
True enough, but then you get into the question of "what is the power for" Running is to get around. Walking would be of no practical purpose except to show off a look. When showing off, you want to look the way you want to look. I can't think of a single time I made use of running to show off the look of my character.

[/ QUOTE ]

You have a point, actually. Running, even if we don't like it, is still something we do because it gets us places. Walking has no practical purpose and, in fact, comes with penalties, so those who walk will walk because they like how it looks. Which means it pretty much has to please them.

Of course, I wanted to go for the notion that those who don't like it are free to just not walk, but BABs is right - it's a major challenge for not much return. If it doesn't please enough people, it's at best a fringe benefit, and that's not worth it.

It is my hope, however, that one of these days we'll get a bunch of things that are "not worth it" just as a bit of luxury. One of the things I've always liked about games is paying attention to the little things. Sometimes developers put a lot of work into something that, in itself, isn't really very meaningful. But all these things together make a game that "feels" very high quality, regardless of what it actually does. A good example of that would be the Prince of Persia series of games. There isn't any one thing that is THAT remarkable about them, at least not by today's standards, but by the same token, there is NOT A SINGLE THING about them that is obviously bad. Fluent animations go from any state to any other state, every motion is accounted for, every button, switch or lever is pressed in a natural way and pretty much everything that happens on-screen has been touched. Compared to the recently-released Tomb Raider game, which is supposed to be the definition of that genre, the difference is stark. Some good animations co-exist with some bad ones, a good climbing system coexists with a crappy combat system, intended paths look and feel good while unintended ledges are stiff and ungrabbable... There are PLENTY of things that are low-quality which bring the game's total value down.

On the other side of the fence is EA, the WallMart of video games. Big-money licenser of cheap, low-quality games. Crappy engines, incessant crashing, mountains of compatibility issues, unsupported resolutions, rushed game development, reused settings and animations, boring, repetitive stapled gameplay, lack of options... The list goes on and on. Anything with their name on it is guaranteed to be low-quality garbage that looks good on the surface and may be fun if you don't intend to replay it ever again. Even actually GOOD games like the Battlefield series are dragged down, down, down by literally thousands of niggling little bugs, problems and insufficiencies. Their games are just about "good enough" in pretty much every aspect.

To me, even if a change doesn't add that much immediate return in an investment, if it's something that's not just good enough, but something that's excellent, so good that it's like it was always there, then that's still a change that makes the overall game experience MUCH better. Quality above basic functionality is what differentiates the single-use throw-away games from the truly great games that I play even after they're morally deprecated. That's Blizzard's StarCraft is so popular - it's not an exceptionally innovative game, but it is just polished in about every possible way for a game of that age.

To me, I understand some changes to City of Heroes will never be worth it. Walking, power customization, glowing costume colours and so forth are good examples. They'll always be so costly as to not be worth the investment. Yet at the same time, I cannot help but think that, as any luxury, once we have them, the game's prestige, especially in the eyes of first-time users, will increase dramatically.

[ QUOTE ]
Really, the 'not everyone will like it part' is a very, very minor concern.

[/ QUOTE ]

Which I can fully respect, Mr. Brawler. Despite what I may appear to be saying, I still have confidence in your priorities, not least because I know you've said it's a herculean task before

I didn't mean to criticise. Call it an irrational fear for the future. There's certainly been enough doom around the forums that I might as well add some of mine. Or, that's my excuse, at least

[ QUOTE ]
I won't post angry comments about any walk button we get "some day", but I can see prioritizing other stuff above it...like a 'scamper on all fours' run animation...

[/ QUOTE ]

Oh, of course, I've never seen this as an especially high priority. Other things being more important is a good reason. I'm just worried increasingly simple things have been getting the "not everyone will like it" treatment, to the point where I'm starting to worry if it really is priorities deciding or if it's that reluctance to not please everybody.

[ QUOTE ]
If you make "The Walk Button" a toggle that caps your speed AND prevents you from engaging in combat, you can remove Combat Ready, Weapon Ready, Dual Ready, 'Shotgun' Ready, and Shield Ready.

[/ QUOTE ]

Hit reaction animations key off the various ready states, with there being none that key off the neutral state. It is my assumption that this was done to save up on a few extra animations since, practically, when you get shot at, you don't tend to keep on walking like nothing happened. Not really making a point, just saying.

[ QUOTE ]
... I can see female models *especially* getting irritated. "She walks like a ******!" "If my/my wife/gf's hips swung like that, she'd break her back." "More swinging, she should be sexier!" "I don't think that kind of walk is biologically possible." "I don't care if she is superpowered, that walk makes no sense in those heels."

[/ QUOTE ]

While I agree with the general problem of not being able to please everybody, that's pretty much the case for current RUN styles. If I were the type to look closer, I could say that Huge run like knuckle-dragging Neanderthals, Male run like they're constipated and Female run like they're running in perpetual high heels.

If my options were between NOTHING and a somewhat wrong option, believe me when I say I would choose a slightly wrong option. The problem with flight positions was that it IMPOSED the wrong one when the right one was, and had always been, already available. Changing them to emotes fixed that. It would be a lie to claim that the perpetual backstretch is a fitting flight pose for all of my characters, but if I were given the choice between flying like that and not flying at all, I'd choose to fly like that.

In my opinion, it's better that we have the ability to walk, even if it's not the exact kind of walk I may have had in mind, than to not be able to walk at all. If anything, I can see the heavy amount of work as the only real limitation. And much as I respect BABs, I'm starting to get more than a little disconcerted with his concern about not pleasing everybody with the additions he makes. It's making me actually really worried that we may be missing on good stuff because it might not be everyone's cup of tea.

Let's hope that if ever there is time and opportunity to get these in, they commit to go out and make them without fear and worry as to whether they'll please everybody. At the very least, people may NOT get something new, but they didn't exactly lose anything they had.

Ah, OK. That would fall under "how a server monitors player movement," then

[ QUOTE ]
Since the game updates the screen a finite number of times per second, you can't have actual continuous movement, you can just have a sequence of teleports to where you ought to be if continuous movement were occurring.

[/ QUOTE ]

While I don't know exactly how a server monitors player movement, I do know that it's in a mechanically different way from teleporting. When one loses synchronisation with the server and is stuck where they zoned in in spirit, if not in body, then mere walking will not reinitialize synchronisation, and will in fact simply snap you back to where you were. Teleporting, however, will.

[ QUOTE ]
How does Prestige Power Slide work? Could Walk be a lot simpler if it were a toggle like that?

[/ QUOTE ]

Prestige Power Slide uses sliding animations that have been in the game since its creation. They just formed them into a separate power. The sliding forward, back, left and right, as well as transitioning from all the game's stances into and out of sliding is already in the game. Walking would require new animations for all of those, as currently, there is only a single walk-forward animation and no transitions into and out of anything.

Chapter 4: Prophecy

Prophecy... I have a very intense dislike of that concept, not only because of how wantonly it is almost always used, but more than that because of how compulsively willing intelligent life is to abandon intelligent reasoning and trust itself to its faith in any prophecies given to it like they were unquestionable truth. And they’re not, not in practice, not consistently. A prophecy, even at the best of times, is a blind guess driven more by dumb luck than by any amount of clairvoyance, wisdom or mystical power. I honestly despise using phrases like these for their unbridled crudeness, that is, disappointingly, a very accurate description of what prophecy is, in essence – a guess. True, sometimes it’s an educated guess, but even when made by those who can actually, truly look down the line of fate, and there aren’t nearly as many of those as false prophets would have you believe, undeniable, immutable truth it most certainly is not. If you will, take the world of someone who has seen the full line of faith from beginning to end – it is by no means unchanging.

That’s an interesting thing, actually – fate. The single, unchangeable script by which the universe plays out, most who have caught glimpses of it would say. And to a point, they are right. In the very simplest of terms, fate is the record of the timeline, of that which has been, that which is, and that which will be. It is the tendency of events to happen at the exact same time in the exact same way regardless of how many times they are observed, and regardless by whom. It would make sense, then, that it would be a reliable tool to observe both the past and the future, especially for one like myself who is locked out of travelling through time simply by virtue of what I am. And indeed, if all one will do is look, why travel through time when look one can through the looking glass of fate? It sounds logical, at least in theory. In practice, however, it is not, not even remotely.

You see, fate is the unchanging chain of events which makes up the timeline. Except it isn’t. Even ignoring the chaotic mess that the legions of barbarously callous and outright recklessly careless time travellers over the ages have made of the time line, events written in fate still have the tendency to change spontaneously and for no reason that I have ever been able to determine. Fate is the tendency of events to happen at the exact same time in the exact same way regardless of how many times they are observed... Until they change. You can go back in time and observe an event an infinite number of times, and then suddenly, upon returning once more, may find that event occurring at a different time, in a different way or even not occurring at all. There is no logic to what changes when and under what circumstances. Believe me, I have looked. I have spent an eternity looking, in fact, and if ever there were true chaos in the universe, whatever force is behind the changes in fate would be it. It is almost as if an actual intelligence is behind all these changes, pulling the strings of fate and shaping the time line to its whims. But if there is, I have never been able to make contact with it. I find the concept of discovering another thought in the ether which, much like myself, is both intelligent and self-aware quite fascinating, but after all the time I’ve spent looking, I have yet to make a find.

But I trust it is obvious now why attempting to predict the future through the use of fate, and indeed, even through the use of time travel to observe it, is a venture more reliant on the whim of whatever force reshapes events, than it is on the skills and abilities of the one making the prediction. Even the wisest and most intuitive of predictions will only be as accurate as the biggest change in fate between the time of making a prediction and the time of the events predicted. I have long since acknowledged that fact, and made it a point to never trust what I see in the time line to remain true, and therefore will not make decisions based on that essentially unreliable information. Mostly... The truth of that notion is quite self-evident, but if proof were needed, I need look no farther than my observation of the Earthen Rikimaru.

When I first started observing Rikimaru, I was interested, but as he disappointed me, I lost patience. I trust you will understand the ironic paradox of a being unending with nothing but time on its hands losing patience, but what I am at this very moment, and indeed what I will always be, is a work in progress. Minor quirks like that are to be expected, and are usually easily fixed. This one, in particular, though embarrassing, is trivial to avoid in the future. But I lost patience with watching Rikimaru, so I looked into fate to see if my continual observation was merited. What I saw in the time line was not, so I left, pursuing more promising ventures. When I returned, however, I found that events had transpired quite differently, and the fate that I had seen had not come to pass. Instead of the uninteresting dead end I had expected, a fascinating prospect awaited me. To put it plainly: fate changed.

Now, I can see how all of this may seem like the idle rambling of a bored mind, and to a certain extent that’s not entirely unwarranted, but in this case, at least, it pertains. You see, I’ve observed Earthen cultures for many thousands of years, and one thing that has always been an interest of mine has been the humans’ propensity for prediction, the “end of the world,” in particular. True, the end of all created things has been a common concept in many cultures across the cosmos and all along time, and not entirely without reason, given that it has actually happened several times before. There is little chance of intelligent life knowing of these things, as at the very least Kragoss’ latest end of all things wiped the universe clean of everything, but it seems life in general shares a universal instinct for survival, as I have explained before, and fearing such an end to creation is just part of that. Humans, however, have so very many versions of this end it’s positively astounding. Their world is predicted to end in fire, in ice, in darkness, in disease, in illness, in war, in being replaced by machines of their own making and many, many more. None of them have even the slightest grounding in reality, of course, not even to the extent of being only as wrong as fate is inconsistent, but they are a curiosity just the same.

Of them, one has been of particular interest to me, however, and that is the world’s end in darkness, and that is mostly because of how it has tied into existing events. The prophecy predicts that the son of a mortal man and the very darkness of hell will spawn what has been dubbed a Dark Messiah, one who will lead the demons of hell into the cities of Earth, destroying all life and bathing the world in eternal darkness. Laughably made-up as it may be, it is not, in fact, as far from reality as one might think. As a matter of fact, the followers of Rikimaru’s Cult of the Black Wind are preparing for just such an event, no doubt fed by their leader’s tall tales of boogiemen and the apocalypse. The reality, however, is that is exactly what Rikimaru aims to do, though not in those exact words.

Rikimaru used to be a regular human, but his foray into the Netherworld changed him completely. What remains of his human mind I cannot be sure of, though I suspect it’s a good bet to say most of it is still intact, but what remains of his human body is... Well, nothing, really. As he adapted to the Netherworld’s corrupting energies and adapted to life in the world of the unloving, Rikimaru’s body changed into a solidified artefact of that world’s negative energy. He is, in essence, one small foothold of the Netherworld into the world of the living. As such, he has the power to open a stable wormhole between the two worlds, allowing energy to freely flow between. Now, naturally, the spectres of the Netherworld will try to suck the life energy from Earth, and eventually from the entire universe. That is what they do. That is what they are. But this former human has an ace up his sleeve, as it were. As he learned to manipulate the negative energy of the Netherworld and consume the spirits of its denizens, so he intends to do again. And as the spectres suck his world dry, so he will consume them and steal the energy for his own.

I must admit to the sheer brilliance of that plan, and I don’t say that often, so please understand that I mean it. I would, however, be lying if I said it has not been tried many times before, and it has always ended in pretty much the same way. Some things just never end well, but how can you fault life’s opportunistic nature for seizing an opportunity it does not know to be doomed and futile? I have seen many attempt to harness the power of the Netherworld in a colourful variety of different ways, and I have had mixed feelings about them. Some do so in the process of evolving into truly self-aware life, questioning their existence and the limitations of the world that surrounds them. For others, it is merely an extension of the primal greed inherent in all intelligent life, a replacement for rational thought with an easy purpose – more power. Unfortunately, Rikimaru is very prominent example of the latter. For a human, he may be intelligent and wise, but his driving force is basic to such an extent that it is an embarrassment to human kind as a whole – hunger. The hunger for more power, wanted for no reason other than the infinite feedback loop of wanting power to gain more power, is a slap in the face of intelligent life. A deluded existence, fed by the blissful ignorance of a seemingly clear purpose. But why? It does not seem to matter. Such a waste.

But as I may have mentioned before, it is not Rikimaru himself that is interesting to me now, but rather something he created. You see, there is a single [censored] in his plan, one that I expected to be insurmountable for him, in fact. It is a fact that wormholes between world can be opened in a variety of ways, but by far the most stable and easiest to both create and maintain require a medium, an item comprised of both world that the wormhole is intended to bridge. This item serves a sort of mid-way point, greatly simplifying the process and reducing the energy needed to form such a gateway. Given that cross-world travel is usually the realm of the gods at the very least, for a mere human to cross the divide on his own power, he would need all the help he can get. In a way, travelling between the plains of existence within a single dimension is vastly more complicated than travelling between counterpart plains in different dimensions. Inter-dimensional travel, of course, requires substantially more power, but it is of a kind that is much more easily accessible to physical beings, and the processes behind it are quite a bit simpler.

But I really am rambling. The only way Rikimaru could have his wormhole to the Netherworld would be for him to use a medium. He cannot use himself, however, as even though he is an artefact of the Netherworld, he has lost all of his living flesh, and is, in fact, a very poor artefact of the world of the living. All of his followers are, inversely, powerful artefacts of the world of the living, but poor representation of the Netherworld. Infecting people with negative energy, as well, is useless, because he an needs actual, physical from that world. The errant alien energies that permeate between worlds are not concentrated enough. What Rikimaru needs, amusingly enough, is a Dark Messiah. A child born of mortal flesh and the darkness of the Netherworld, to put a poetic spin on it. In a stroke of somewhat rudimentary genius, Rikimaru decided to simply have a child with a human woman. Using his own people’s biological ability to procreate, he could create his midpoint artefact – a child born both from human flesh and from negative energy. Clever, very much so, in fact, but as all things of mortal men, not quite as simple as it may seem.

One of the greatest banes of my quest for meaning is the process by which life is created. Hurled into existence for seemingly no reason, living creatures spawn without knowledge, understanding or purpose. How it pertains to this particular case is that humans have practically no understanding of how the very bodies their spirits inhabit actually operate. Humans, and indeed most primitive creatures, find it easiest to simply let their bodies operate themselves, sustaining, healing and procreating as they are programmed to. What Rikimaru is attempting to do is to essentially jury-rig a system he has absolutely no understanding of to do something it was never intended to do. The human system of procreation is, in simple terms, designed to produce a new human from two old humans. That’s about all it was ever expected to need to do. What Rikimaru wants out of it is... Well, quite out of scope.

It is little wonder, then, that his success rate has been abysmal. In the search for his Dark Messiah, Rikimaru has produce many, many failed attempts – disfigured children unfit for life, but, above all, unfit to serve as a medium. Those who died at birth were disposed of. Those who lived but were unfit were killed and then disposed of. In the last few years, Rikimaru has gone through so many lives that even I find it appalling. Now... I’m generally not one to worry about morality. Each different race has its own understanding of right and wrong and the universe at large doesn’t care one way or the other. But even though I am little more than a natural phenomenon, I still view myself as alive. It may sound selfish, but for that reason, at least, I respect life. I respect life’s right to live. I respect life’s right to think, to have a purpose, to not be thrown into this world without rhyme or reason, live blind and unknowing and die a pointless death. To reduce thinking, living creatures to inanimate objects, to treat them like garbage to be snuffed and thrown away. I find that sickening.

It’s times like these, times when I see life’s eager willingness to not only abandon all purpose, but to rob other life of its own, that I begin to question the need for intelligent life in the first place. Why are we all here? Why, if that is all we are destined to do? Is that all we are? A cosmic joke? Jesters in an unseen court, existing only to amuse? Our Creators, our Masters are long, long gone, yet we still play their game by their rules, never even realising the futility of existence. It’s times like these that I feel that life may indeed have no point but to make the universe more interesting to the impartial observer. Good, evil and everything in-between, locked in an endless play with no chance of escape, with no chance of meaning anything more than yet another morsel in the maw of a ravenous beast. And I, cursed with both eternal life and vision enough to see my own plight... What place is there for me, but to continuously suffer the indignity of this existence?

It’s times like these that make me lose faith in life, but it’s also times like these that make me regain it. It’s true, Rikimaru is an abomination in every sense of the word, but what he created in his mad quest... That gives me hope.

[ QUOTE ]
it's a-kin to brawl. Though brawl needed a different animation for-every-single-powerset, the walking would need a new animation for every-single-bodyvariable. Though the animation work is what put shields off so long, and they've been cracking at that hard and it works nice now. So hopefully it will be more plausible in the future. It, hoever would need some thematic benefits. Walking, self -speed(unresistable), self +res(slows), self +stealth( minor stealth bonus)?

[/ QUOTE ]

Not quite Brawl only needs a different animation for every possible activation sequence, and there is one for every weapon (every weapon ID, in fact, as even identical weapons can cause redraw). As per BABs recently, Brawl is the only power in the game which is coded to ignore activation sequence and just assume whatever sequence was currently in effect, using whatever animation was given to it.

Walking has several problems that I've heard from red names over the years. The most obvious one is animation. There is only ONE SINGLE walking animation, and that's the walk forward you see when someone does it. There are no animations for walking to the side or backwards, for instance, as well as no animations for switching to and from all stances, such as neutral, ready, combat and so forth. There appear to be a good many of those.

Secondly, speed changes are a factor. I've heard it said, and I think it was either Castle or BABs that said it, that ensuring players moved at a set speed and were immune to speed buffs and debuffs from any source was very, very hard. "Impossible" is the word I remember being used, but it was a long time ago so I could be misremembering.

There's also the fact that most flapping things, like capes, trenchcoats, the wedding veil and so on are animated for running. If you look at the Issue Whatever movie about trenchcoats and wings, you'll notice the trenchcoat guy walking, and yet his coat tail flaps like he's sprinting downhill. It's a little-known and hard to believe fact, but all cape systems are animated and not calculated in real time using some kind of physics engine. Different animations are keyed to different triggers and "procedurally" (developers of other games LOVE using that word) put together to form fluent-looking animations. It's done very well, so the seams are hard to spot, but if you look carefully, you'll notice there are PLENTY of instances where your cape just "snaps" to the other side without animating anything inbetween, or in some more apparent cases, your coat tail snaps forward and clips through your midsection. There is a concern with those, as well.