Abalest

All this time I thought they hadn't been helping because:
-Lord Recluse challenged them all to 'Simon Says', and allowed them to talk to people (not about the game), but not to move around. If all the heroes could do it for a year, he'd turn himself in without a fight.

-All that time standing in place has made them prone to painful cramping if they move too much. (Citadel says:'oilcan.oilcan.')

-They really don't like us (case in point, Positron's TF), and only give us things to do so we'll leave them alone or just go away.

-A dastardly supervillain, as yet unnamed, posed as a hero and put down some Rikti-tech-based glue when Positron et. al. took their lunch break. Only Statesman escaped, but hasn't yet had a really good opportunity to bust into the mothership for solvent.

But I guess Positron's explanation works a bit better. And in fewer words, too.

By the way: Great response. 5 stars, if I can give 'em.

So, does this mean that the flag atop city hall will be missing soon?

I have been looking for another AR/Elec blaster's thoughts on the set, and I really appreciate the guide.


For the most part, we agree on the powers. I've got a different opinion on a few things, and I'll go into them, as I usually play alone. Surprisingly, Burst is a major part of my playstyle.

I've specced out of snipe for a while, and I don't miss it. AR and Elec make a strong 'Close Game' while having potent attacks (at longer range than most blaster bolts) in slug and burst to allow pseudo-sniping and aggro management at distance.

Burst (mainly slotted for range) is my pull, letting me bring opponents to me with less chance of bringing a whole mob. In the numerous office and cave missions, the longest distance one has to make a shot is typically within burst range, and if things go sour, having snipe (because of interruptability and the stationary setup time) is rather dangerous when a running battle begins.

Burst becomes much more useful by the 20's, and Snipe should be dropped in the first respec unless you like having an entire Striga isle Skyraider Squad fly at you.
Take a tip from the Raiders. Primarily use Burst and Flamethrower. If you can make a field generator, do that, too.

What Burst can do for you:
-Slotted for range, becomes a replacement for snipe as a pull with less aggro generation.
-Lower End use is great for desperate situations and is always highly valued to get that last bit of damage in when you've got just one more Archon in bad condition about to smack you around.
-Fast execution and recharge means that running battles are survivable, particularly when combined with slug.
-DoT surpresses drop setting, such as a Raider's ability to raise a generator.
-Longer base range means that a foe can be continually pounded from a distance outside of the foe's range. This peters out quickly, but it's nice in earlier levels.


Snipe is, in the early game, essential. Being able to do a large amount of damage to a single target is as best as you can get until flamethrower (AKA Holy Torch of Justice) becomes available.

I got beanbag early; it's usefulness is currently (at lv 27) down because of the utility of the buildup, flamethrower and shotgun combo, but I expect it will come in handy later on. I may respec at some point to order my powers more conveniently for slot distribution, but it's an excellent power no matter when it is taken. If I do so, I'll pick up charged brawl instead, and make a small blapper attack chain.

On my first build, I focused so heavily on AR that I had missed the joys of Havoc Punch. This power is awesome, and it is my favorite ability. Ever. High damage, chance to sleep, knockback, and endurance drain makes it decidely nasty when it hits, and when combined with buildup, it becomes very fun to BU+FT+ then HP the surviving boss or Lt. to drop the full group at once. I'm looking forward to next level, where I can experiment with Thunder Strike.


The AR set is designed to allow engagement of groups without being IN the groups. This gives it a significant advantage over other primaries in survivability, despite the lower damage.
This means that the AR/*.* is best suited for missions, where chokepoints can quickly turn a rushing group into a barbeque, a bullet repository, or a barbequed bullet depository. This is also true in a team situation, where a controller's hold or a tanker's aggro can keep foes bunched up and easily turned into a DoT extravaganza that the whole family (except for the targets) can enjoy without chokes.

Regarding powerset synergy:

With Stamina slotted with 2-3 DOs, I've found that Electric fence+ignite+ignite+ignite+fence (etc) allows me to defeat a single minion or LT with no cumulative endurance loss. Zip. These low-end powers refresh very quickly even without hasten active, and can let you destroy several minons in short order (with HP to control those who close distance)without expending buildup. I have not yet tried ignite in a doorway, but I can certainly say that its effects are helpful in the pre-core respec trial setting.
I don't know if this will work as well on bosses once I get shocking grasp and freeze from munitions, but it could be enough to put up a full DoT death for most utt-buglys.


Great guide. I'm glad to see someone else uses "Cap and Zap".

Wow. And we could finally see cops running from a REAL threat that deserves the famous 'limp wrist dash'.

That's why I tick off godmoders. I know I can't win, but I can make them pay. The thing is that if you can admit to damage but then give them a highly legitimate counter, use just a bit more description that prevents a simple 'dodge' from working, and it's in public...
Then the more they fight being g-modes, the stupider they look and feel.

With luck, they'll stop because they just can't stand being upstaged... by the person who lost. If not, only godmoders will want to play with them, solving two problems at once.

However, there's no way to deal with some people. Maybe they're kids, maybe they are fully-committed jerks, maybe they've got a cat on the keyboard and it keeps hitting the button bound to '/em dodge'.

All you can do is try to infuriate them. Taunt them, tell them to stop squirming, drag yourself up from defeat and keep bugging them. Invent powers using your powersets. Apply your powers in new ways, use gadgets and gizmos, but don't repeat yourself too often.

This way, you get to have fun as they flail about trying to use their limited vocabulary to smite you. If they start being more creative, you're winning. If they start copying you, don't let them hit, saying "Think I'll fall for my own tricks?"

For example, instead of just throwing fire at the g-mode:
/em kneels, palms to the ground, and a pillar of flame rises directly under (g-mode).
(after /em dodge)
/em grins as the pillar spins, throwing a wall of flame in every direction.

If they dodge that...
/em raises a brow..."How could you dodge that?!" and jumps to the side, launching a fireball.

Likewise, if they grab the mace, kick. Bite. Fight dirty. You are heroes, and your powersets are suggestions.

EDIT: For unbecoming you're != your.

When the world repops, Abalest unwittingly destroys everyone's mind with a link to Man-Faye.

Or, more horrifyingly:
Move it! (Has sound)

A gibbering wreck, Abalest falls off a bridge into the exhaust vent of a large cruiseship, where the incinerating effects of the engines do the rest.

How to beat Godmode:
/em anticipates the dodge and follows the feint with an attack while [godmoder] is off balance.

Hmm. Sounds like I might do well to try and find this place and bring some of my DBZ ezboard experience in.

I never won, but I know some 'tricks' that tick off even godmoders that aren't godmoding.
Mweeheehee.

Good luck, Blood_Wolffe.
Here's hoping you succeed where I've well, not exactly failed, but had to seriously rethink concepts and discard information...

So, we go from a star to an insect to a chicken to a battleship to superheavyweight.

Makes sense.

You could use the Squall syndrome; just use ellipsis (...) whenever someone wants you to talk.

As this is certainly a 'dark' character, I see no reason why you can't explain it as his condition getting worse and requiring increasingly powerful containment devices with correspondingly more devastating side effects.

I don't understand what your concern is if he's mute; he wouldn't explain how he levels.

EDIT:

This post is pointless due to redundancy in suggesting the addition of a feature already mentioned as part of the update. Obviously I was suffering from a deficiency of kill skuls.

I can't work on Highlife anywhere near as much as I'd like.

When I get back to my apartment from school, It's at least 10 pm, and then there is homework to do. I'm not even able to play CoH very often.

Cursed with an 8:30am class that I've overslept through too many times already, and working on my projects in the robotics lab for eight to fourteen hours a day, I can't see myself being able to finish Highlife before the heat-death of the universe or the end of the quarter, which is still over a month away.
And then my final quarter will be taking graduate courses, so it will become even tougher.


I am truly sorry to have gotten everyone's hopes up on this.
I am still going to finish the Highlife story and repost it, but for the most part, I won't be using the characters unless people really want me to. With all this time that I can't spend writing but can spend thinking, I can come up with all the heroes I'll be needing, and I'll be able to tell the story without feeling bad about holding some of you to the briefest of cameos.
Again, I'm sorry about this. I shouldn't have tried to start with such a horrible schedule to try to work around.


Take care, all. Maybe I'll have this all done by next autumn... at this rate, anyway.

Curses!

His signature says.....

Virtue.

Christine Abalest (Miss Fulcrum) is a socialite. She hasn't considered getting a job yet, but pursues an education in arcane arts and economics; she plays the stock and futures markets to earn money, though she's the beneficiary of a rather impressive trust fund...

Dark Soul Golem doesn't have a job that pays in coin... It is driven to absolve the sins of all its souls so that it may enter heaven when it is destroyed. It used to be a guardian for the Abalest family, but after achieving sentience during the defense of the Abalest estate during the Rikti war, it has been allowed to pursue its goal.

Power Drain was a maid for the Abalest family before the war, and now is trying to find a job where she can earn enough to repay the Abalests for a generator she overloaded while looking for a midnight snack. She's tried to work at City of Gyros but kept tripping the breakers when she got hungry, She's just gotten fired from Paragon SWAT because she didn't follow tactical orders well, and got distracted from a target by a substation. She's been banned from entering Terra Volta after that fiasco, and now scrapes together what she can by taking funding off the villians she defeats and going after power sources in villian bases.

Eric Unterwald, 'The Claims Adjuster', is a claims adjuster for Highlife insurance.

Al Cornpone doesn't need a job, as it is a genetically-engineered humanoid ear of corn.

Roleplay is acting, in a way. You act (or in this case, write) as you believe the character would. RP is beneficial to you as long as you take it seriously. Typing speed, keyboard awareness (skill in touch typing), literacy, vocabulary, grammar and spelling all improve if you write consistently and look for new ways to express yourself. That's how it's been for me; I never really did well in typing class, but after I tried my hand at an online RP game, I improved my abilities greatly.

Roleplay sharpens the imagination, bolsters creativity, and helps you communicate effectively. It's something that you can do to improve yourself while having fun!

Now that I've said why it's good that you're interested, here's the first piece of advice:

Know Thyself.
RP has several forms. Not all of them may appeal to you because of your abilities as a writer or desires as a person. Below, I've given a summary of the three major types of RP around the City of Heroes board. There are more, but let's keep it simple.

Roleplay can take several forms. The Whitmoore Apartments thread is an example of 'open RP', where the story develops through contributions of several writers. It's not a good idea to just jump into an established open RP without a good deal of dedication to the story, as you might not be able to keep up with some of the posters, and if you can't participate for a few days, you might end up well behind the times... but I worry about that sort of thing too much. It's likely that I'm the one who makes that a big issue.
Also, there are some matters of judgement that you need to be aware of; This thread covers some unofficial rules for open role play.

Open RP can be fun if you don't mind sharing the spotlight and enjoy being part of a highly active and social story. It can also be frustrating if you have a specific story to tell, but the group's attention is focused elsewhere.

Another form of RP is story writing. This is also called 'Fan fictions' or 'fanfics' for short. They use the CoH setting to launch a story.
Sibling's "Ladies of the Lake" story is a good example.

This form of RP is mainly solo, but there are instances of collaborative stories.

It's good because it develops at a pace you set, covers all the details you think are important, and allows you absolute control over the plot and direction.

It's bad because of writer's block, a potential feeling of rejection if no one responds to your work, deadlines that you might set for yourself and miss, and it's very possible to make a boring story without other people to contribute ideas.
Worse still is if you have a grand idea of what you want to happen, but not a good plan on how to portray that plan.
I'm suffering from this right now, and I feel rather guilty about it, as I generated interest by asking for others to contribute heroes for use in the story. I don't reccomend trying it unless you are very sure of your ability to write out a large amount of work in a short amount of time.

A third kind of RP is 'in game', where you actually play your CoH hero as you imagine they would act. Not just playing the game and talking to contacts, running missions, and sweeping the street, but making those features of the game as part of a story for your character.
This is a good way to RP because:
1. Highly visual, especially for setting a scene and showing a character's outfit.
2. Emotes (like dance) are available to let you provide a visual reaction.
3. In-game events (like missions) are easy setups to RP; complaining about the smell of the sewers, swearing vengence against a villain faction that defeats your friend/mentor/sidekick/significant other/parents/etc., all made easy because of the graphics.
4. Good RP experiences should lead to forming good friendships in the game.

This is a bad way to RP because:
1. The way you want your powers to work isn't the same as how they appear in the game
2. It requires people willing to RP with you to be present when you RP.
3. RPing during combat is difficult and dangerous
4. Your ability to convey emotion is limited.
5. Your costume choices are also limited, so you might not be exactly what you're looking for.

If you want an RP server (that is, a game server where RP is encouraged by the players), Virtue and Champion are good places to make a character.


Think about what you want to do. Do you want to be part of a story, control a story, or work a story out in game?

If you just want to RP without a set direction and have fun, go with open. You don't need as many original ideas when there are others around to inspire you, and once you're in, you can develop your character rather quickly.

If you have a bajillion ideas and can link them together cohesively in a way that makes you really happy, write a story. It's tough to walk alone, but if you know where you're going, you'll get there eventually.

Also: Have fun. If it's not fun, there is very little point to roleplaying.

My last piece of advice: Know thy character.

Before you do any RP, figure out your character. What is their history? Why do they act the way they do? What is their purpose in being heroic?

If you go in without any ideas, you'll probably be frustrated in coming up with responses and reactions to your fellow role players. You don't need a great amount of detail, just a basic description, history, and motivations.

Can anyone else suggest anything?


(For the record, I'm a storywriter. I'm not suited to open RP because I don't have the time to devote to it, and my desire to control the direction of a story gets in the way. I speak from experience, but my view is biased based on my own abilities.)

Welcome to RPing, iwinforprep. It's one of the most rewarding experiences the internet generates, and if you stick with it, you will only get better.

Er. Oops. I knew I was forgetting something.
Thank you, Lord Raymond.
Stalker (Highlife Story)

Well, it's up.

Next installment: Yet to be written, and there's more on my plate than I'd expected at this point in time. Crummy.

I'll do what I can when I can, but it's looking like I'll take a while... Sorry, folks.

Well, the Golgafrinchums did send all their telephone sanitizers away...

Sorry this took so long; I hope that, while I didn't really introduce any of the submitted characters this time, you all approve of the writing style and get an idea of how well you'll be represented. Updates will be sporadic, I'm afraid, as I've been bogged down in work.

Chapter 1: Business as Unusual.


“With gang violence on the rise, murder and robbery ever more common in our city, don’t you wish there was someone you can trust with your life, health, theft, fire, and auto insurance?”
“The Highlife Hero Squads are ready around the clock to take care of your insurance related needs; and because they help out of the greatness of their hearts, we can pass the savings on to you!”
“Wouldn’t you rather be living the Highlife?”

Eric Unterwald watched the new television spot impassively. He knew it was trash, but he had no power to change the advertisement campaign. He’d do his job just the same as he had since the Rikti invasion. His clients depended on it.

The phones at the office rarely stopped ringing after the Rikti War; thousands of claims of theft, fire, property destruction, automobile accidents, murders and injury kept the staff of the Highlife Insurance Company (Paragon City Branch) busy all day, every day.

One would think that an insurance company in Paragon was a foolhardy venture. If it hadn’t been for Highlife’s ability to adapt, that would be true.

After the war, Highlife had been forced to raise rates (and lower the cap on claims) on everything but car and health insurance, because the populace tended to be careful drivers and seemed to be getting quite a bit of exercise as they ran from any one of the numerous villain groups that suddenly appeared in Paragon’s streets. Robbery and disaster-related claims had skyrocketed, requiring a solution that kept the insurance payments inexpensive enough to attract customers and to avoid paying out money to claimants.

Based on the suggestion of Eric Unterwald, Highlife had added a first-of-its-kind theft recovery service, forming teams of highly-skilled heroes to find criminals and recover the insured items. The system worked well, and the high volume of calls and new accounts had even called for a new corporate headquarters and around the clock staffing and response teams. After all they had endured, the people of Paragon City flocked to the excellent services Highlife provided despite the rather high rates…

And for his idea, Mr. Unterwald had been promoted to the head of Claims Adjustment. A distinguished gentleman in his early fifties in a tweed suit and of steel-gray hair on his head and face, Eric had been with Highlife for over 20 years. He’d seen every crisis the city had to offer, and had grown jaded to the constant state of peril. Nothing surprised him, nothing fazed him, and just before he had proposed the hero squad, he had found that nothing really hurt him.

His job security was only increased when he received his hero license, despite his lack of anything resembling offensive talent. When big customers called in with a high-profile claim, he was the one who went out, able to ignore all interference put up by various factions, investigating the claim, and talking to the claimant while thugs beat on him fruitlessly. The criminals would eventually stop because the Highlife Hero Squad would show up soon after he did, giving crooks the fight they were expecting, but against far greater strength than they had anticipated.

Word got around that ‘The Claims Adjuster’ was not to be messed with by even the most foolhardy elements of the criminal society, because the HHS would likely be showing up within minutes of the Adjuster’s arrival, and would bring a nice little war with them.
Meanwhile, The Claims Adjuster would rarely react to even the strongest blows, because he could not be bothered to respond when time was money and the claimant’s well-being a priority. He was, as one Freakshow Tank had said: “No fun.”

But there were a few criminals that got Eric angry enough to swing. Most of them were thugs familiar with his face, out to make a name by stopping the premier “Hero” on the Highlife board of directors. On occasion, they managed to abduct his wife or daughter, only to be faced with a very angry man with a high-powered cadre of super-powered beings watching his back. The would-be kidnappers had all been sentenced and jailed, with bail and compensation payments that would keep them permanently out of commission. But there was just one villain who kept coming back. No matter how many times it was jailed, it kept coming back, the arrested villain turning into a pile of kernels in the cell while a budded clone continued the plans…

Al Cornpone.

The name first sounded like a prank, a whimsical ‘press name’ when the first bio-chemical research corporation reported a humanoid ear of corn ransacking their laboratories to steal experimental chemicals and bioengineered seed stocks. The mutant corn wore a snazzy fedora and smoked a cigar similar to those of The Family, and seemed to imitate their mannerisms, posture, and even their speech patterns. But unlike The Family, this grass gangster operated alone, and had no interest in any of the other groups that infested Paragon City. It was a menace, because it always managed to continue even after apprehension, with a record number of 35 duplicates attacking the same bioengineering firm until it finally managed to make off with a powerful batch of fertilizer.

The Claims Adjuster had been at each of the attempts, and had seen the corn man ignore corporate security and the Adjuster as it walked out the door, only to be stopped in the street by the combined forces of the HHS. On the thirtieth attempt, Al Cornpone even waved at The Claims Adjuster as he passed, stopping briefly to exhale a large cloud of acrid tobacco smoke into the Adjuster’s face. “Keep up da good work.” It had said, patted him on the shoulder, and walked off. “Real professional-like.”

It was the first time that The Claims Adjuster had gotten angry at any criminal who hadn’t been threatening his family. Eric’s steel-bound monogrammed briefcase dropped from his hand, hitting the floor with a resounding clank.

“I apologize in advance for any damages to the stolen property that may result from my actions and will see that any damaged property is given the compensation cap.” The Claims Adjuster had said, forming his will into an oversized driver.

Al Cornpone had turned, appraised the situation, and set down the barrel. Leaning nonchalantly upon it, the corn man tapped the ash from its cigar and produced a long-handled mace from inside its husk. “Aw, now dis is a real shame. Youse don’t wanna getcha hands dirty, Unterwald, but seems like ya can’t take a compliment.”

“Shut up. You’ve been here twenty-nine times before this, what makes you think you’ll get away with that fertilizer now?”

“Absolutely nuthin. But I’m patient. I got all da time in da world to get dis stuff.” Cornpone puffed on the cigar, stepping away from the barrel. “If youse gonna use your fists , I’ll give ya a sportin’ chance. That way it’s all fair, see?” it spread its stance, opening itself up for a blow that it couldn’t possibly block. “C’mon, paste me, Unterwald. See if ya can put me down with one free hit.”

This offer was too good to pass up; losing face in front of a client like this was something Eric simply couldn’t handle. The swing The Claims Adjuster made at Cornpone’s face was fast and fierce; though untrained in combat and too busy to visit a gym, something about Eric’s solidness made his punches devastating, enough to stagger any common thug looking to score a wallet.

But it wasn’t enough against a hardened ear of corn. Dried kernels flew out in a cloud and rattled against the metal walls of the research firm, but Al Cornpone remained standing.

“My turn, Unterwald.” Al said from the remaining half of its face. It then smashed Eric’s forehead with its mace, a blow that would have liquefied the brainpan of the scientist standing behind The Claims Adjuster. Eric’s knees buckled slightly from the impact, his glasses broken beyond repair, shards of the lenses falling into his steel-gray eyes; obscuring his vision but unable to penetrate. “Looks like we got a problem. Youse supposed ta fall now, but yeesh, youse a tough old bird, right?”

“You have no idea....” Eric growled in return, brushing the useless glasses from his brow, “Just how right you are.”
The Claims Adjuster swung at Cornpone’s mace arm, knocking loose more kernels but unable to disarm the mutant. Cornpone retaliated with a blow to the ribs, striking sparks from the business casual suit as it slid down the fabric without tearing.

When the Highlife Hero Squad arrived, they found Eric Unterwald and Al Cornpone trying to gain control of the mace. While The Claims Adjuster was physically weaker, Cornpone couldn’t get the man’s fingers to loosen or his arm to bend; as a result, Al Cornpone couldn’t use the mace, so hero and villain traded blows with their free arms in a fight reminiscent of a barroom brawl over the use of a pool cue. After a stunned moment of seeing their boss actively fighting a criminal, the Highlife Squad set to work with the efficiency that Eric had selected them for. Blue Bolt, who gained his abilities in an attempt to emulate Synapse, vanished, leaving only a faint blue ribbon as he carried away the barrel that Al Cornpone had been after.

“How cute. The kiddies are here.” Cornpone noted, nonchalant as it struck The Claims Adjuster in the gut.

“They’re young, but they’ve got more than you’ll ever have, Cornpone.” Eric retorted, punching Al Cornpone’s cigar into its throat.

“Youse a gambler?” Cornpone asked, not caring that it just swallowed a stogie.

“What?”

“Wanna bet?” Al Cornpone tried flashing a magnificent grin at that point, as if it already knew the outcome of whatever gamble it had in mind… But it had no kernels left for teeth, so the corn cob just twisted its mouth in a nightmarish contortion.

Cornpone didn’t get an answer as the rest of the Highlife team, having evaluated the full situation within the lab, descended on the vegetable gangster and arrested him with extreme prejudice.

“Mr. Unterwald. We’re sorry about being late.” Daryl McClemmons, better known as the Golden Soldier, was the most vocal of Highlife Hero Squad Twelve. He had been an army officer, but wouldn’t talk about why he was no longer with the military. In any case, his ability to create plans and command Squad 12 had gotten him the spot of primary contact and leader when the team dealt with Highlife.

“No need to apologize, Golden Soldier.” Eric replied, pulling shards of glass from his eyes as he watched the inert cob vanish.
Kernels were strewn everywhere, and the researchers were beginning to clean them up, having been ‘convinced’ by the reassuring voice and mental manipulations of Sanctum that everything was all right. Of course, as this had been the thirtieth time that Al Cornpone had tried taking the same object, panic was overridden by common sense to simply stay out of the way and wait for the Highlife Squad to arrive.

“If it’s not out of line, why were you engaging Cornpone?” The Golden Soldier asked, stepping aside as the janitors started in with industrial vacuums (purchased after the seventh attempt, when the janitorial staff complained of the mess Cornpone left) to pick up the kernels.

“It gave me a compliment on my professionalism.” Eric picked up his briefcase, and started looking for the claimant, who had vanished from the immediate area during the fight.

“Oh. What?” Even though only one quarter of his face was visible due to the use of hood, eye patch, and cloth veil, the confusion in his voice betrayed the puzzled look that his concealed face bore.

But The Claims Adjuster had walked off, fully committed to getting the proper paperwork filled out and signed.

With little ceremony due to the routine business of dealing with a single villain, there was not much for Squad 12 to accomplish, and they were dismissed in an orderly fashion… At least, that’s how Daryl would have liked it to be. But he had long since adjusted to the nature of heroism in Paragon City, where lasting teams were few, but individuals willing to form a flash strike force were common, going their separate ways just as soon as they finished the task. Blue Bolt, at least, had the courtesy to wave as he walked away with Sanctum. Trying to get her to go to a movie again, Daryl noticed. Blue Bolt’s speed and desire to make a good impression had an interesting synergy. When he got nervous, he started flailing for the right words, but because he could talk preternaturally quickly, all the little starts and reconsidered sentences that normal people could avoid gushed out. He also sounded like a bee right in your ear. So, while he said all the wrong things, very few people would be able to understand him. Luckily, Sanctum was patient and ‘helped’ him relax to the point where coherent and correct-frequency statements were possible.

The Golden Soldier waited at ease, ignoring the stares and whispered conversations wondering when he would leave. This particular research firm had no particular criminal contacts, but they did seem uneasy about Al Cornpone. The most vital research areas had been rendered soundproof, even to Daryl’s perceptive ears, so he could only pick up: Cornpone, ribonucleic, universal, safe, determined, and security.
Unusable information, as he already knew that the corn man was being analyzed by the scientists here and at biotechnology firms across the city.

But it managed to pass the time until Eric Unterwald reappeared, uttering assurances that the hero community at large would be informed of the threat posed by Al Cornpone, and that Highlife would not raise the payments because of the frequency of break-ins. As Eric and his client passed, The Golden Soldier followed, wanting to know more about the ‘compliment’ answer.

The conversation turned ‘pleasant’ as the trio neared the door to King’s Row, talking the sterile small talk between two professionals with no common interests. One last handshake and mutual ‘Thank you’ exchange and Claims Adjuster and Golden Soldier were in the street, watching the streetlights flicker as they warmed up to counter the effects of the setting sun.
“What’s the matter, Soldier?” Eric asked, loosening the knot of his plain yellow tie. “Workday’s over. Night shift is starting, and Squads one through eight are covering that.”
“Yes, Mr. Unterwald, but..”

“It’s after hours. Eric’s easier… Daryl.” Eric pulled his keys out of his briefcase and used the remote unlock for his car, a sky-blue coupe parked in front of the building.

“Eric, I don’t understand about the compliment. Why should you get angry?”

After placing the briefcase in the passenger seat and closing the door, Eric Unterwald faced Daryl McClemmons, not a hair out of place after brawling with Cornpone for several minutes. The face of the older man showed no stress, no involuntary twitches, all body language neutral and unreadable. “A walking ear of corn said I was being professional. It wouldn’t have bothered me if I’d left it alone again. Cornpone seemed to appreciate me, Daryl. Appreciate that I don’t get in the way, appreciate that I’m no threat, appreciate my intent to just get my job done and move on.”

The namesake feature of the Golden Soldier, his mainly-gold colored armor and hood, shone in the final rays of the day’s sunlight, casting irregular yellow stripes all around until the sun vanished, giving rise to the suffused light of dusk through the smoke pouring from King’s Garment Works.

“It was an insult, Daryl. Like I was helping him, in front of the client… It made me wonder what I’ve been doing with my abilities…”

Daryl rolled down his long-sleeved glove, checking his watch. “Do you have time to go get a drink? There’s a great new restaurant and bar here in King’s Row and I’d appreciate it if you came along to talk. It’ll be my treat.”

A long silent moment passed, broken only by distant gunfire and explosions.

“I’ve already broken ritual once today, so why not?” Eric finally said, looking off towards the stacks. “There is parking, right?” he asked, pulling out his cell phone and peering at the screen.

“Well, there should be. I’ve never really thought about it.”

Eric nodded… and smiled as the call connected. “Hello, honey. Everything’s fine, I’ll just be late. … No, I’m just going out to dinner with a co-worker. Put the casserole in the fridge, I’ll have it for lunch tomorrow. I’ll be back before ten. Yes, I’ll pick up some milk. Supermart? Right. I love you, too.”

With a muted beep, Eric turned off the phone and returned it to his breast pocket. “Alice can’t believe I’m not coming home right away.” He said, opening the door and sliding into the driver’s seat. “Hop in. I know you’re not a speedster like Blue Bolt, and I’ll need directions anyway.”

Daryl pulled down his golden hood and olive-green facemask, getting into the passenger seat after Eric moved his briefcase to the back seat. His knees almost in his chest until he moved the seat back.
“Sorry, my wife’s really the only one to use that seat, and she’s not as tall as you are.”

“I can tell. We’re heading to ‘Lady’s By the Lake’. Ever hear of it?”

Eric looked over the seatback as he backed out of the space and then started down the road. “Can’t say I have. I hope you can tell me a specific address, and not just which rooftops to jump from.”

The Golden Soldier laughed. “I’m not the type to free-run if I can avoid it. I know where it is by the roads.”

Ten minutes of driving through The Gish and a wrong turn into Royal Refinery brought the pair to a halt behind a large clockwork construction.

“Don’t get out.” Eric said, putting a hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “That thing’s not worth the trouble.”

The paladin turned, put its hands under the coupe and lifted. Daryl had tried to open the door and jump out, but Eric’s hand secured him to the seat. Not painful, but immovable.

And despite the paladin’s strength, it could not lift the car. Its fists couldn’t scratch the paint. Its electricity splashed against the hood and arched to the ground without stalling the engine.

‘What the…’ Daryl thought, his eyes wide as he glanced over at Eric.

“Sad, isn’t it? That thing can barely move. I wonder why the King builds such things…” Eric said, his eyes intense, gleaming in the dim glow of the streetlights. “It’s just a giant puppet. I don’t know how anyone thinks it’s more of a threat than the regular clockwork.”

The paladin tried to lift the car again, and ripped its arms from its sockets. With a screech, it ran off into the darkness, plowing through the streetlamps as Eric carefully backed around the limbs and continued.

It was quite a shaken soldier that emerged from the coupe, trying to understand what had happened. But Eric was already out of the car, loosening his necktie. “Cajun foods? Interesting.”

“Uh, yeah.” Daryl replied, unable to shake the image of the paladin pulling itself apart when he had seen it flip loaded delivery trucks and crush transformer stations. “We’re going to be meeting someone, so we won’t have to wait for a table.”

“Sounds good to me, Daryl. Who are we meeting?”

“My sister.”

[ QUOTE ]
Just as long as you don't take a page from Statesman's book and say "Soon" all the time.

[/ QUOTE ]
No, see, that would be evil.

As at least one of you is quite eager to know:
Yes, I'm still working on the story.
I've also worked out an inconsistency; but this generates another problem later on. But it's in concept, not in continuity, so it's a simple fix.
I'll try to have the First part posted by Next thursday. Probably before.

But man, those 20+% sure do holler louder than the other 80%, don't they?

Hello, all. I'm glad I didn't promise the first part of the Highlife Story by Friday, but the more flexible 'something'. So, I issue a challenge (to yourself, really) as a stopgap measure.
The theme here is "How does your hero really fight?", with the implication being that starting from the basic powers, how do you think your Hero fights and expands upon those powers?
There is a caveat: You have to write it in one sitting, in the text box, without benefit of spellcheck or polishing. Simple, right? If you feel that your browser will crash, feel free to copy to notepad or a similar simple text program.

This exercise is just something I do to help me put down ideas when I'm trying to think through a situation.

Feel free to come up with new applications for powers, create new powers within your set, and just generally be awesome.

While there are no prizes, constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.
Finally, the potential for me to ... ahem... 'learn' your fighting style for the characters I'll be using in the Highlife Story is also beneficial, as it could help me get a handle on how you speak and react.
Of course, an example is in order, so I'll begin.
~~~~~~~
An unmarked delivery truck pulled to a shuddering halt in front of a similarly unremarkable warehouse sitting, unsuspiciously, by the Talos Island waterfront. A moment later, the loading bay door rumbles open, and the truck vanishes inside. Later still, when the door reopens, the truck emerges and drives away.

After the truck turns a corner, Power Drain casts her ghille cloth aside, pulling herself up the near-vertical outcropping by one arm, the other holding an overly-large multi-barreled rifle with scope trained squarely on the warehouse door. Her greatly enhanced hearing picks up the truck as it turns onto the ramp leading back to uptown Talos. Power Drain pulls herself slightly higher, then begins to drive her feet against the outcropping, pushing her back from the truck, then moving forward at a run. Had she been her old self, she wouldn't have been able to move so quickly. Of course, had she been her old self, she wouldn't be so tall, strong, or even carrying a gun. She'd still be just another maid in the service of the Abalest Family.

The speed Power Drain reaches during the swing is enough to propel her high into the air, her altered reflexes granting her time to roll forward, twisting her body to line up the landing.

The truck driver sees the following: the road as it passes a patch of grass and shrub, bright pink hair and a large yellow plus and stylized lightning bolts against a black background.
He then loses conciousness as the driver's side window shatters, followed instantly by a high-velocity red bag impact to the side of the face. Slumped over, the Council marksman doesn't see the shooter run alongside the truck, jam the rifle onto the brake pedal by bracing it, barrels up, under his chin.
He doesn't see a thin arm slip past to turn off the motor... What he does see, as he comes to, is a woman in the driver's seat, pillaging his ammunition supply. He tries to protest, but his hat has been jammed in his mouth and his arms have been bound with the severed remains of the passenger-side shoulderbelt, the seatbelt itself holding him to the seat quite securely.
She looks up, smiles, and waves with her fingertips, taking the clips and magazines, leaving the guns behind. She opens the hood, leaving the marksman only a thin sliver of viewable area. From what he could see, she attached jumper cables to his battery, then left.

Power Drain was hungry; the truck's battery was barely a snack, but there was much more in the warehouse. The stakeout had been almost unbearable, particularly with the streetlights just begging to be broken and drained until the breakers triggered.
The problem with the batch of nanites that had rebuilt her was their immense energy potential; they stored electricity very effectively, had converted her body to run off electrons, and made her almost constantly seek another 'meal'.
But she wouldn't trade her new self for anything.
Power Drain jumped off the outcropping across from the warehouse, her intended tumble to ease the landing failing as her vision dimmed... She needed to eat soon. Staggering slightly as she made her way to the door, she pulled an electrical charge to her finger and turned the lock to slag, bypassing the hidden keypad lock and the alarm. Nearly asleep now, she could hear the sounds of Zenith mech and hoverbots, and that was enough to keep her awake as she slipped into the all-too-innocent warehouse.

Too weak to rush in, Power Drain lobbed one of the bullets she'd taken from the marksman around the corner, licking her lips as the noise of servos announced the approach of an investigating mech. Hidden around the corner, a high-caliber slug chambered, Power Drain waited... waited... and blasted the exposed neck of the first mech that stepped into the room. With the head removed, the lines from the power core were easy to reach, and by pulling them out, she could place the source and ground between her lips, pulling power from the robot as its motions stilled. She liked the mechs; the Fifth Column and Council robots, based off good german engineering, were very efficient, "tasted" clean, and always had a lot of power in their cores. She'd yet to meet Vandal, but she could not help but think of an old man in an apron and chef's hat...
Draining the dregs from the system gave her enough energy to move on into the warehouse. She smiled. This was about to get fun.
Stepping out from behind the corner revealed a hoverbot facing away from her. Rather than opening fire, Power Drain jumped onto the hoverbot and pounded the cover off with the butt of her rifle. The commotion attracted another pair of mechs, causing Power Drain's eyes to sparkle with delight.

Observing that close range combat might be a bad idea as the opponent seemed quite competent at pounding through heavy armor, then acting quite vampiric. It was a bad choice; only running would have saved the mechs from the suddenly-flung hoverbot, a good hundred pounds of dead weight smashing the pair to the ground. Their fates were quite predictable once Power Drain's heel rested on their sternum and a sniper round cleanly removed their flailing heads.

This was why she'd chosen to wait for the truck. All these mechs were new, freshly charged, and had just been delivered to this council base. There had been five other trucks that day, and now, the base was a buffet. Enough to last for a week, if she was lucky.

The loss of four signals had triggered the alarm, and now the base came to life. The lights went red, human soldiers pouring into view, taking up firing postitions.

Power Drain groaned; Humans weren't any good for her needs, and they...

A shouted command started the barrage of bullets from the gattling guns. She was exposed, and couldn't jump back behind cover in time.
She hit the dirt, pulling the defunct hoverbot chassis up as a shield. But she hadn't escaped. Hot lines down her back and side indicated torn flesh and 'bleeding' of silvery liquid... Nanorobots. The air crackled and fizzled, her sight dimmed again as the nanobots pulled themselves back to her wounds and worked to seal them off. Material provided by several green mineral disks kept her from scarring, and by the time that the makeshift barricade had stopped ringing with ricochets, Power Drain was ready to go. She rolled out to the right, and fired. She rolled back behind the chassis, rolled right again, fired twice, and retreated behind the downed hoverbot. Moving out from behind cover only briefly kept her safe as she shot out the lights, one by one. With the corridor in darkness, the bright pink hair and yellow marks on her costume became much less visible. The darkness was only temporary as the council tried to see by muzzleflash. But none of them thought to look up, where Power Drain crawled along the ceiling, her entire body magnetic by the motion of the charged metal streams of her blood.

They did look up when the light returned, brighter than they could recall. They looked up, and Power Drain dropped into their midst, hair straight out in all directions, body glowing white with accumulated charge arcing between her appendages and the broken lights.

A thunderclap signaled the end of the fight. Discharging her aura of electricity left a group of comatose soldiers struggling to breathe through smoking ventilators. Only the leiutenant in charge of the base remained standing, but that was fixed by Power Drain kicking a gattling gun's trigger and cutting the man's armor to ribbons. A rifle butt to the gut dropped him.

After that, the rest of the warehouse base was relatively devoid of humans. She'd hoped that the trucks had shipped in more robots, but after only four more Zenith Mechs could be found, she settled for the generators and the funds from the strongbox in the command center. All in all, a successful night...

Next night in King's Row, Power Drain hung upside down from a high tension line, absorbing the electromagnetic radiation and peering through the sniper scope at a large power core that the clockwork drug towards scaffolding. She licked her lips, and fired.


~~~

Now, there are a number of problems with this:
One, it loses 'oomph' because it drags on so long.
Two, the restriction on polishing makes it hard to incorporate all the elements I had wanted, like mentioning Power Drain is banned from entering Terra Volta.

On the up side, it gets across why she is doing this, sets her apart from what she's forced to be in the game, and uses the electricity secondary in a somewhat unique way.

Overall, I'm not happy with this. But that's the point of the exercise. You write what's in your head, and then you look at how it can be made better.

Anyone else want to try?