CactusBrawler

Steel Canyon Meta-Youth Detention Centre


Jill was lost, in this room she couldn’t feel the others, couldn’t feel any of the stars. Sometimes people would come to see her, people with odd hats and big black coats. She liked the hats, they were nice hats, but they wouldn’t give her one. No matter how she asked , they had refused her, it wasn't the first time people had refused her, it had happened more and more in Paragon city.

What was different was what occurred when they closed the door to her room, she found herself alone, completely alone, for the first time in her life. The first time, she'd screamed in horror, now though she merely whimpered and cried quiet tears.

The floor shook, she looked around bleary eyed, this was another new thing, it hadn't happened before. There was a moment of falling, the floor lurched downwards in a sudden drop, the lights blinked off then back on half dim from the emergency power.

Nothing happened for maybe ten minutes, there wasn't a clock in the room and Jill only had a poor estimate of time. The wall trembled, she watched in fascination as the re-enforced concrete of the cell became transparent and collapsed to the floor, splashing out in a wave. She squealed in excitement.

Water!

Jack!

She ran through the hole in the wall and paused, no polite little boy in black and white awaited her. The figure before her dwarfed her, clad head to toe in a bulky grey armour that had steam spewing vents, the figure gestured and her exit was blocked, thick ice forming in seconds over the hole.

Jill reached out with her mind, the figure it thought like the Jacks that she knew, but so much bigger than them.

"B..big.... biggest brother?" she guessed

The figure held out one hand.

"Follow" it hissed out, voice muffled by its featureless helmet.

Behind the figure the sewer slopped upwards, following the lay of the city above them. Taking her hand she followed.

Jack and Jill went up the hill...

The return of the Under Scare?

At noon on Sunday the 21st, Steel Canyon Meta-Youth Detention Centre collapsed into the sewers. There was no evidence of subsidence prior to the collapse, luckily after the collapse there was no further structural damage to the building. Only minor injures were sustained during the collapse, however several of the inmates have gone missing since the incident.

Machine Teen
Nightmare Child
Midnight Child
Toxic Love
Jill Wolf
Robin Da Hood

None of the missing youths have been formally linked to the Under Scare, a subterranean terrorist who held entire buildings to ransom during the eighties, undermining them and collapsing them.

The thing is the mechanics of Recluse's Victory aren't even PVP based.

Defeat PVE encounter, click interact point, repeat until you spawn another PVE encounter, defeat for badges.

What does 'winning' the zone give you?

Nothing.

Compare it to Arathi Basin, a similar PVP zone with a capture the area mechanic. Winning there gives you points/merits/stuff for buying improved gear with PVP focused stats.

It's not even like Siren's call/Warburg where you'd be able to sort of claim that by defeating players engaged in the PVE aspect, you were getting yourself stuff for PVPing with (tempoary powers).

Honestly they could disable PVP in the zone, and it'd have the exact same event mechanics.

You know I never got how they had two Infernals I mean Primal Infernal is already from another dimension, as is Praetorian Infernal, so that'd make Praetorian Infernal, Primal Infernals double from another... another dimension.

Of course that raises a question...

Where are Praetorian Rikti?

Since like Praetorian Infernal, they'd be from a fourth location, not Pratorian, or Primal or Rikti homeland but a seperate Rikti place...

Oceana embassy abandoned?

The embassy at the centre of much internet based rumour has been seen without lighting for several days now. This newspapers attempts to get in contact with the embassy receive an inactive dial tone.
A spokesperson from the country had this to say...
“Ambassador Pamela Rouge has been recalled due to a redistribution of skilled workers. A new ambassadorial staff will be sent, Oceana desires to form closer ties to the United States Of America.”

When was the last time you saw a homeless person?


Charitable organisations in Paragon city have expressed concern after a large number of homeless people and run aways have seemingly vanished. A spokes person had this to say...
“These people are often preyed upon by the darker aspects of society.”

The rest of the article is a collection of pictures of missing people, ranging from ten to sixty years old, and of differing backgrounds.

The Embassy of Oceana, Independence Port

Abandoned, that would be the word to describe the place. Abandoned, and sodden. The plush royal red carpets, squish beneath the feet of all but the lightest of investigators, without the lights on the place resembled a dank dark cave, with the lights on the water damage was more evident, the carpet sodden through and the lighting flickering on and off, evidence of the electrics being damaged.

The place has seemingly been stripped; every room empty of furniture, with nothing inside, the building is very echo-y, the constant drip drip of water from the upper floors as it leaks through the building is almost musical.

The basement is half flooded, three foot of water is pooled there, it’s slowly increasing as the rest of the building drains into it, but not at a dangerous rate, a slight current stirs the water, and from one of the basement walls a few bubbles rise.

Report.

Suspect is psionically gifted, the gift appears to be empathic in nature.
Suspect appears to have no training in mental defense or any form of ethical training. After interviewing the suspect, it is apparent that the use of her gift is instinctual, she claims that her actions are simply
“What I do”
There is evidence of mental tampering, she had been forced to “Run Home” a command that we were able to remove upon custody. The source of this command, is currently unknown.
Suspect has a tattoo on both arms, a bar code, the word Jill and a number.
We suspect that some manner of cult like brainwashing, is involved with the childs upbringing, she insists on referring to herself in the third person.
Attempts at contact with the embassy have failed, officers have been sent to investigate.
Until then the child will remain in custody of the Psi Division, awaiting more appropriate social care.


Exerts from Psi Division interview.

Officer “So what were you doing at the statue?”

Suspect “Making people right.”

O “ Making people right?”

S “Yes, they were all wrong, the Shoe Lady said they were supposed to be like this”

O “For the benefit of the tape, the suspect attempted to alter my mind. Enhancement of the emotion of anger, rather than an attempt at control.”

S “You’re a cheater, a cheater cheater pumpkin eater...”

O “Who is the Shoe Lady?”

S “Pamela”

O “Pamela Rouge the ambassador from Oceana?”

O “The suspect at this point gave a blank faced look, it appears that she was confused by this question.”

S “M....maybe?”

O “Maybe?”
O “The suspect at this point shrugged”

S “She might be, Pamela is important, maybe she has lots of job hats, but you can’t see them, because they are invisible!”

O “Why did Pamela ask you to influence heroes minds?”

S “Because Jill is Jill? That’s what we are for.”

O “What you are for?”

S “Once upon a time, there was a big bad wolf, and he was a mean old wolf, so he huffed and puffed and he blew all the world down!”

O” Go on”

S “And we fix all the bits he broke.”

((More tomorrow, lacked time today, plus some one linked me to bloody TV tropes and gah just gah!))

Fudge is a key part of role playing.

Oceana Embassy, Independence Port

Pamela smiled over her cup of coffee, she’d received the early editions of the cities newspapers.

“Well now, turnabout is fair play after all.”

Atlas Park, Police Station

Gaslight sat with his head in his hands, why had he done it?

The very idea seemed alien to him, always he’d used the blue flames of his power, with a cool, clinical detachment. Crime fighting had always been a duty to him, not a passion or a pleasure as other heroes might view it.

But he’d just snapped, something about those Hellions, how’d they’d seemed so smug, confident that they’d be back on the streets within a couple of months. They way they’d sneered “Hero” at him.

He’d beat them, beaten them fiercly and savagely, it’d be a wonder if they’d ever been the same. What’s worse he’d done it in front of civilians, in front of children. He shook his head, but the memory wouldn’t fade, the memory of looking down on the gang members, battered bloody forms, the haunting tune of the children’s nursery rhyme still ringing in his ears.

Someone had called the police, he’d wanted to apologise to tell the little girls, that they could still believe in heroes, that this kind of thing, didn’t happen. But he’d been unable to find them.

Hero goes ‘rogue’.

Last night a hero was arrested after savagely beating several Hellion gang members, after they had surrendered to the hero. The unknown male, who goes by the hero name ‘Gaslight’ was taken away by police. It is understood that he did not resist arrest.

Witnesses to the attack said...

OOC: At the moment it's a mix of stuff going on server side (though mainly off screen) and this thread.


Oceana Embassy, Independence Port

Pamela Rouge sighed and rubbed at her fore head; things were not going as well as originally planned. Her days were now spent checking over paper work, the Jacks and Jills, were very good at their jobs... but woefully ignorant of the complexities of the adult world. She rubbed her forehead, she was going to get wrinkles because of this, she was certain.

“Damn meta-humans” she growled under her breath.

Meta-humans, wolves in human clothing. What the hell had she been thinking, accepting a job that required her to be surrounded by them. Even worse they were making her job more difficult.
Damned arrogant meta-humans.
Damned Internet.
Slowly a smirk crossed her face, she pressed a small button on her desk. The office doors opened and a young boy entered, his hair a silvery blond and his clothing immaculate pitch black cloth, cut in a fashion that resembled a mixture of old European and Eastern style. He gave a short bow as he entered.

“Bring the Jill’s to me.” Pamela ordered the youngster, who in turn gave a nod of acknowledgement.

After all if you break the spirit of a wolf, then it’s just a mere dog.

The Farms.
With a city to feed, it is no wonder that these two floors are vast, the highest two floors of the city are devoted entirely to feeding the populous of Oceana. Each has a virtual sky, the roof cunningly converted with holograms and hidden UV lighting to provide the same level of heat and ‘solar’ radiation one would expect from a ‘good’ day during these seasons.
Each is divided into areas, one area might be orchards, another might be fields of wheat or barley or rice, here and there people wander, picnicking tourists and citizens, both seemingly as idle as each other.
With a low hum, the actual workers of Oceana go about their business legless, hovering robots travel around the farms, harvesting and pruning, checking for disease and generally being the image of farmers, a few robots are even wearing straw hats, either for the tourists benefits or due to some past prank by a local.
The farms are watered on a carefully worked out schedule, the virtual sky would darken and become clouded with the image of a stormy sky, and then water would fall from the hidden sprinklers. The schedule is available from any of the cities info stands.
At night the rooms vent some of the days heat, as the virtual sky darkens and becomes a moonlit, starry sky.

Seasonal Towns.
The next four floors seem to have been built with a much larger population in mind. The amount of housing, recreational and other buildings available vastly outnumber the amount of people actually living there. Each of the town’s matched their seasons name in temperature and the lighting of the virtual sky. In Winter town, snow fell slowly, great big fluffy flakes, that settled coating everything in a cold, wet blanket. The roads and streets of Winter town were kept clear by more of the hovering robots.
Everywhere the people seemed happy, content as if they lived in paradise.
Here and there small girls dressed in white dresses, moved among the buildings, the locals gave them no mind, only responding to them when the little girls were the first to interact.
The buildings seem to have taken their influence from various area’s around the world, gothic and Mediterranean styles mixed with the white picket fences of suburban America.

Work Level 1
This level focuses on the more intellectual pursuits of the people of Oceana, located here are the offices of the Government, several different buildings devoted to different aspects of the arts or science, and several gated compounds where little white clad boys and girls played various playground games.

Work Level 2
On this level, mechanised factories dominate the landscape. Little trundley trucks bring raw materials into the factories, and different trucks drive away. Aside from a few mechanics and overseers, and the odd gawking tourist this floor is mostly deserted.

Work Level 3
Everything has a layer of frost on it on this level, vast warehouses that store frozen foods, and other materials. The trundle trucks continue their work on this level, as do a few heavily clothed men and women, as they check invoices against the machines. A few small hut like buildings don’t have frost on them, and spill warm orange light out of their windows.

Somewhere in the Atlantic ocean, somewhere among the windswept waves lay, Oceana, a man made paradise transported from another dimension.

The island itself is not much to look at, a small expanse of black volcanic rock, beat upon by the icy, relentless waves of the ocean. But Oceana is much more than just that windblasted expanse of cold stone, for the hands of skilled men and women had built a castle of dreams upon the harshest of islands...


Or so the brochures said any way.


The island of Oceana is bare expanse of black rock, situated upon it is a large cube like building the size of a large town, however it is equally as tall as it is wide, visible from across the flat ocean from several tens of miles. To those who approach from under the sea it expends downwards as well, until it is clear that it has more skyscraper like proportions, rather than the initially viewed cube.

The volcanic rock island is kept afloat by several large devices that pulse with a creamy white light, at night this gives the island an almost pretty lighting, as if it was permanently floating on the full moons reflection.

The building itself is a sandy yellow in colour, as if it’s a rough cut block of sandstone dumped in the middle of the ocean. However every once in awhile there is a dull pulse of power over the surface of the building, a faint purplish glow that seems to trace out letters and phrases that are just slightly outside of human understanding.

The lowest part of the building, is not as featureless as the other areas dotted with vents, perhaps two dozen a side ,grated with vast ever whirring blades just a few yards in, they seem to suck in the ocean water for some unknown purpose.

At ground level the block is opened, a pair of fortress like doors open, several meters thick they are made of the same strange metal like stone that makes up the rest of the builing, however several body armoured guards remind people politely not to touch, should people start trying to take ‘obvious’ samples of the material.

For ‘official’ visitors to the island, at least those making their arrival ‘known’ there are two methods of none meta-human arrival. The first is a sheltered dock, where smaller boats are able to dock, and even some of the none gargantuan models of ocean liner are able to find safety. Here several smaller fishing boats are harboured, crewed by smiling suntanned and salt roughened men and women. When they arrive with a catch, they load the fresh fish onto unmanned little vehicles, that make their steady, trumbley way into the city on shiny caterpillar tracks.

For those lacking the ability to fly by themselves, or perhaps those who merely wish to travel in relative comfort, the south end of the island has an air port, much like any other in the world. Again the people working there seemed ‘happy’, though perhaps people shouldn’t smile like you’ve made their day, as they pull on a latex glove...

Through the guarded doors, tourist and foreign dignitaries are guided to awaiting area, heated to the temperature of a ‘pleasant’ late spring day. Here a video plays on loop, on screen is an elderly lady, all wrinkled apple face, and kindly smile, like all the ‘good’ Hallmark Channel Grandmothers. She sits at what appears to be a mahogany desk, on a black leather and luxurious looking chair, several large and full bookcases fill the background. On the desk is an identifying little plague, turned to face the camera it reads ‘President M. Goose’.

“Welcome to Oceana.” She says in a ‘pleasant’ albeit clearly practised voice.
“We welcome you as friends to our island, in the hopes that you will welcome as friends in your world.”
“Much may seem strange here in Oceana, our people do not need to work to feed themselves. Sustenance is provided by the Autumn and Summer farms, please ask your guide if you wish to see them. Personally I recommend the summer cider.” She smiles at that, all wrinkle face “Clothing, shelter, all is provided to them by the government.”
“Clothing, shelter, all is provided to them by the government, the same can be provided to you dear guests, you need just merely ask at any floors governmental depo.”
“We ask but one thing of you, the children of the Civic Maintenance Group, the Jacks and Jills, who you will no doubt see around Oceana, these brave and precious children to which we the citizens owe our very lives, we ask that you leave them be.”
“Welcome to Oceana friends.”
Usually the video only gets to loop twice, before quests are greeted, either by a blue clad citizen in a tour guide like hat, or by a black smocked member of the local government. Who comes for the visitor, is based on the ‘nature’ of the visit.


Four great elevators run up and down the city allowing people to travel to their desired locations. Most are simply accessible by going to the elevator and waiting till you get to your destination, however Worklevel4 and downwards require I.D clearance to enter past security.

1. Summer and Autumn farms.
2. Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter towns (The places where people live, also where tourists get to stay)
3. Work level 1 (Government offices, artistic and scientific development ‘companies’, the CMG houses)
4. Work level2(Food processing, clothing processing, construction processing)
5. Worklevel3(Cold storage)
6. Worklevel4(Growth tanks)
7. Worklevel5(Chemical works)
8. Worklevel6 (Cold Fusion Plant)

Sarah McKinnley buzzed through the crowd like an autograph seeking missile, her progress aided mainly by her small size, as she wormed her way past the cos-players and concession stands. There were close calls however, if she'd of been one second faster at one point she'd of been crushed, her ten year old frame dwarfed by the forty year old, man-mountain dressed as the stay-puff marshmellow man, as he fell during a mock battle with a group of beared university students, dressed as a team of magical girls. Still she made it eventually unscathed into the convention hall.

Standing still for a few moments, she took a deep breath, releasing it as she mentally prepared herself for today’s battle. From her pockets she drew the weapons she would enter this conflict with... a black marker and autograph book. Her opponents this day were many, the battle would be long and tough, but steeling her self... she joined the queue for ‘The Militia’s‘ table and waited patiently before she could ask

“Can I have your autograph please Amber Banshee!?” holding her pen and book out like sword and shield.

Unusual weather patterns in the Atlantic Ocean.

Meteorologists have been monitoring unusual weather conditions in the Atlantic Ocean, it was believed that it may have been the beginning formation of a new form of super hurricane. Due to the sudden dissipation of the weather pattern, it is now believed that the origin of the event was due to meta-human activities.