CactusBrawler

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You can forget Vanguard too. They'll only let you in if you have a minimum security level of 35, and you have to be registered to have a security level, so no War Zone or Vanguard membership for you!

Hero Corps won't touch you with a bargepole either; nor will Longbow, or Freedom Corps, or the trainers. And you can TOTALLY forget being allowed in to places like Siren's Call or the PvP zones that use Longbow transportation to reach!

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Sure do wonder how all the mobs get into those zones. Didn't know Longbow had a Tsoo branch.

And again Vanguard hire villains. As long as it can punch out Rikti they'd hire anything.

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How do you get in to the hazard zones? These are sealed against anyone not authorised to be in them.

How do you get your missions? The contact system is based around you being registereed.

How do you take part in the task force missions? These are handed out by senior heroes in the city, and they're not going to hand over such important missions to illegal vigilantes!

How do you explain that the cops and other heroes aren't trying to arrest you? You're an illegal vigilante; you'd be on the arrest list.

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The same way the villains do? Assuming In character you actually do the hazard zone stuff, you simply get in the same way the random mobs do, sneak through the sewers or whatever it is they do.

The same way Batman does when he's being shown as a vigilante and not chummy with the police. Monitoring equipment listening in on police band radio, watching hellions, council etc from the roof tops and finding out about what they are doing that way.

Task force missions? While yeah I doubt they'd hand it out to unregistered heroes, if the team leader say Captain Amazing, with all his flashy badges, media coverage and security clearance says that his hand picked team are ready for the task, then I doubt they'd be turned down because the Hero can't find certain people in the database. Not if the task force is actually as urgent as they make out any way.

Simple you don't admit to doing vigilante stuff. You pull a Batman, a Daredevil you become an urban rumor, let other heroes and police get the credit for your actions.

Honestly would a hostage who was just about to sacrificed by the circle of thorns actually turn around and get the person who saved them into trouble, particularly if said unregistered hero asked them not to.

Well thats my two pence and how I play a unregistered hero at least.

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I'm going to categorise this discussion as one of those things open to interpretation. Unless we ever get a dev to come and clear things up for us, we'll never know the correct scientific answer. It's like the question "Is there a God?" It's not a yes or no answer question.

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I've always had a minor problem with the "salaried" bit... How can it possibily be economically viable for an individual to decide to use thier powers and become a hero, if there isn't at least a living wage involved in it.

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It does rather seem like there'd have to be some benefits when you think about the demands in time and money that being a hero makes. Most heroes do seem to have a full-time job as well as their hero commitments, but then I suppose if being a hero was easy, it wouldn't really be heroic.

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This is covered by the Freedom Corps story. Yes, Heroes are expected to have real jobs as well, that's the whole point of Super-Heroes! Clark Kent, Peter Parker and Bruce Wayne don't get paid by the state to be a hero.

The rules are different in a world where heroes are prolific of course, but I don't think that the devs had as much scope as we give them credit for. I think the world isn't really any more complicated than the Marvel or DC universe. Heroes are the same, it's just that a lot of them congregate around Paragon City.

Freedom Corps is where you go if you want to get paid to be a Hero, that's why Freedom Corps exists in the first place, to clear up the question of employed heroes. Heroes are private law enforcement, that need licenses to do it, as much as a Cop needs a license to wield a hand gun.

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Longbow like the minute men, SHIELD and CHECKMATE would be paid hobs. However it'd be military service so no up and deciding to git with three years left to go on your contract.

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it is possible to register an heroic identity, which (to use UK law terminology) would constitute a legal 'person'. Said 'person' can then be sued, tried, arrested, judged, employed, paid, whatever just like a normal person can be, but does not require the disclosure of the actual identity.

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I've always assumed that was how it works, considering how much spy-based shennanigans there are, I think even an internal register of real I.D.s would be a bad idea. And that's how every character I've made's done it...

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ditto if only for the whole Nemesis automaton working in accounts thing.

Chapter Three. Mercy Island.

That little nugget of my past revealed to you let us return to the events that occurred shortly after escape from the ‘Zig’

As many of you might know Arachnos has a list, a list of names, and a list of names of people that are destined to help Arachnos in some way.

People with a destiny. The Destined Ones.

Or so the caped Arachnos soldier informed us as our jump jet headed across the waters to Mercy Island. During my time of imprisonment Arachnos had risen from the sewers and taken over the chain of islands known as the Rogue Islands.

Mercy Island was to be a test for us, the caped soldier informed us, there we would be met by a Fortuna named Kalinda, she was to be our first contact within Arachnos, some one who would explain further the rules of the Rogue Islands.

I took the opportunity to observe how my fellow destined escapees were taking the instructions. In particular I noted the disgruntled features of the one who had from fire and destroyed the pursuing Longbow craft. Had he not expected this?

Maybe he’d thought we’d be welcomed with open arms, hailed as heroes of villainy?

Of course we’d have to prove ourselves after all even the destiny they thought we had could be thwarted by misfortune, misadventure and sheer bloody minded stupidity. I saw the beach from the corner of my eye and stood, wishing once again for the imposing costume I’d worn during the war and of course for my cape.

Now a cape isn’t just a theatrical aid though it serves very well as one, it has tactical value it obscures your form, intimidates civilians if used correctly and of course in the hands or on the back of a super genius its so much more, a teleportation matrix for example or an optic camouflage material for escape purposes.

At that point I had wished for my cape for two reasons it would make my next action so much easier and second it would have been much more impressive.

Rising to my feet I stood in front the open door of the jump jet.

“Gentlemen” I said “I thank you for the offer of employment and of course the gracious lift from the United States to these fine islands. But I must decline and take my leave”

With this said I crossed my arms and toppled backwards out of the jump jet.

I must advise you readers this is not something you should attempt unless you are invulnerable, can fly or like myself can calculate the exact movements needed to constantly air break and keep your falling speed below a fatal level.

I wish I could say I landed with perfection, a full set of tens from the judges however that would be a lie. It’s simply impossible without the ability of flight to jump from an aircraft at that height and land with any form of dignity. As I crashed onto the roof of a small house I felt several ribs snap, nothing too serious, well worth the infamy that such a stylish exit would bring among the islands.

Now you may think that such an action was stupidity, sure proof that I am not the genius I claim to be. I’ll forgive you this once.

Now the reason I chose such a dangerous stunt was simple I wanted to erase the image I’d built up during my years of imprisonment. After all frail, old, slightly senile Baron Eternity would find it far more difficult to find allies than my true never aging super human self would.

I laid there catching my breath, feeling my armour mould itself differently feeling it snap the ribs back into place and give them reinforcement .
It was at this point the roof promptly gave in dropping me into the drug den of a group of young thugs known as the Hellions.

Young thugs with magically granted super powers, hell fire stings even with the powers I have. It also smells terribly of sulphur. As I said previously every sense I have has been augmented beyond human. Out of all of them I think I could of done without the sense of smell, to be honest reader its been more trouble than its worth some times.

Ever helped the Vahzilok, the smell of embalming fluid mixed with the stench of the sewers in which they usually operate?

Not something that makes dealings with them pleasant. I could go on and on about how much I dislike them. In fact I may very well do that in a future chapter. Still they pay good money and the fifteen foot walking arsenal of destruction doesn’t build it self. At least not yet, maybe I should work on the design some more.

Now I taught the youngsters the errors of their ways, both metaphorically and literally, I gave them a beating until they stopped attacking me and then pointed out where they were going wrong with their drug production, corrected the set up of apparatus so they were getting both a purer product and were losing less of the base chemicals in the process.

Now I’ll take a time out here to explain my view on drugs. You want to expand your mind and play with the pixies go ahead I have no problem. You hurt others while doing so or are off chasing the fairies while I’m relying on you to do something, then we have a problem a major one at that.
And the price for my little educational course?

A roll of crimson cloth and the contact details of those with jobs for people with certain skill sets.

Clad in my costume I travelled with purpose to meet the first name on the list, a mercenary by the name of Matthew Burke.

But the rebirth of my career can wait let me first tell you of my first trip to the so called ‘Home land of heroes’ Paragon City.

Chapter Four. Paragon City

War changes many things, it changes a man, it changes a nation and it changes a city. I walked the streets of Paragon city and felt the wind on my face for the first time in years. The Rikti wars had passed me by with little to no impact, a few of the familiar faces had stopped returning to incarceration and for months the papers and television had shown nothing but Rikti related news, but the bomb blasts and armoured troops had not bother me in the slightest.

The war had changed this city however drawn heroes to defend her and caused the invention of the war walls to protect her. Miles of concrete construction and force field emitters. It would be hell to attack this place I knew but in turn, its protections could turn the city into hell itself.

That is one of the plans I vowed never to use, killing civilians on that scale is an action I don’t think I’d ever bring myself to do. No matter how hard the devil drives I’m a super genius I will find another way.

My purpose in the city wasn’t tourism though I did bask in my anonymity walking her streets unclad of armour and dressed as a normal man, one with out destiny or a billon lives riding on every breath.

I was there to see a man. Hans Kerminler formerly known as Doctor Panzer-fist, a genius of a man who I had worked with during the war. He was never an evil man in fact like myself he took evil actions to save the lives of another. In this case his daughter Greta who at the time was dying of an incurable wasting disease that was eating away at her body. The same research and funding that he used to create the fearsome machines that fought throughout Europe, was used to try and create a mechanical means for her to live on.

I’d lost contact with him during the years after the wall, unsurprisingly he’d escaped most geniuses do. We can see the change coming long before it does, so the heroes arrive finding our lab deserted and research gone, maybe even a ticking time bomb on its last seconds to detonation.

If not for my capture over the English Channel I too would have of escaped and not spent years watching the political map of the world change.

But that was a drunken bet and another chapter in my tale.

It had taken me several days worth of tasks to create a fictional persona, to the world I was now a man from the middle of the great American no where, a humble inventor of vacuum cleaner technology who always paid his taxes on time, only had one major incident of ill health in his life and was an avid movie buff with a well worn Blockbusters membership.

At least I was digitally, any one who actually took the time to chase up the records wouldn’t find any actual paper, find an actual house or real person wondering what was going on.

More called in favours got me smuggled back to America with a wallet full of dollars and rather flattering if nondescript clothes to put said wallet in.

Don’t let the accents fool you, just because the ‘Family’ sound like a Godfather collectors DVD boxed set doesn’t mean they are idiots. They never forget some one they owe a favour and they never forget some one who needs paying back. I sometimes wonder what would happen if they owe some one both. I haven’t wondered enough to find out though, their legitimately fronted smuggling operations have proved useful on many occasions.

So hear I was a country born and bred inventor come to meet an investor. Or so I was to any one who didn’t go rooting deep into my memories, I’ve not perfected the ability to lie to myself so well that even I don’t know I’m lying. Or perhaps I have and am doing it right now.

A short tram ride brought me to Galaxy City, a section of Paragon named after a famous hero some Galaxy Girl; I saw the statue and the gathered heroes there. Apparently this spot was a meeting point for the cities various meta-humans.

Tactically it made sense, local villains wouldn’t approach the place, they’d get to know each other in an off duty kind of way and with so many gathered there was bound to be some one who could stop an rocket propelled grenade round or two.

Still I headed to the apartment that my patient tracking down had finalised as Hans current abode. It was as simple as breathing to disable the security camera on that floor as I walked towards his door and as I did so I let my armour form again. After all Hans had never seen my real face.

I knocked on the door, enhanced hearing picked up footsteps and the swish of cloth from inside the apartment.

A melodic female voice shouted
‘Just one minute’

For just a second I doubted my calculation, could I have been wrong? Had Hans moved elsewhere? Died?

The door opened and I looked into the face of a young blond haired woman. Mentally I added a few years to a face I knew.

‘Hello Greta’ I greeted her

I heard then the motors from the girl they gave a slight whine (I suspect inaudible to a normal human) as she smiled.

‘Mister Funny-face’ she greeted me back with a girlish laugh

Now to some people my armoured form looks intimidating a gargoyle of steel, a sharp metallic demon walking the earth, to others though it’s elongated nose and large jaw is humorous.

I accept this after all humour is not a universal thing; however I only allow those I like to get away with mocking it, once the idea becomes tiresome.

‘Is your farther here? I’ve come to pay him a visit’ I asked stepping inside after a brief hug.

‘Please this way. I’ll just get him’

I looked around the living room to which I had been shown; it was the most un-Germanic room you could imagine. Perhaps we geniuses get too carried away when we hide something.

Time had not been kind to Hans. The heavyset dark haired, barrel chested who looked more like a black smith than a scientist had become this frail bald man walking with the aid of a stick.

But still I could see in his eyes there burnt the fire, the fire that would destroy the world to save a loved one. The first of a man who had given his soul for some one else’s life.

‘I look terrible don’t I you iron devil?’ he croaked with a slight wheeze

‘Could look worse, you could be dead’ I joked back

That little joke was a reminder of our days together as part of the supreme scientists a group who had dedicated their science for various personal reasons to the Third Reich.
Many a morning we’d used that phrase after returning hung over from a night toasting the success of an experiment or drowning the sorrows of a defeated one.
‘Greta open the wine. Our good friend has returned and he hasn’t drank in half a century’ Hans yelled and in that I remembered the young scientist that had sent technicians scuttling about with bellowed orders and roared curses.

We talked and we drank about Greta and how well she looked, about plots that should have won the war and lucky Yank and Tommy super humans who had stopped them.

We talked of our co-workers and what had happened to them. Surprisingly three of the others had survived and I made promises to look them up some time. Two had left the time stream another gone dimension hopping. One had turned himself into a vampire, though I had expected something like that to happen to him. His arrogant and aloof nature, the fondness for black clothing and the fact we always considered him a suck up made him ideal to become one.

The reason I’d originally looked him up was to enquire about the Midas project, something we had been working on until certain heroes sent me for a swim in the sea.

It had come to a failure meaning I would have to earn money through the super genius equivalent of doing chores.

I left with a light heart and even lighter head. I am an arrogant drunk, and between the three of us we’d managed to down several gallons of wine. A drinking match with a cyborg is not to be attempted particularly one whose stomach can process alcohol directly into fuel.

It was this arrogance that led me back to the statue of Galaxy Girl and led me to interact with the gathered meta-humans. To them I was no doubt a simple slightly drunk, slightly scared guy from the middle of no where.

But I was accessing them all the three I talked to that night were members of Paragons undead community. Well two of them certainly were obviously reanimated corpses and the third had the arrogant superiority complex of the vampire down.

I couldn’t be sure of the third without changing my vision to observe the infra red spectrum, which of course makes my eyes change shape and colouration, something Billy Joe Normal from out in the woods wasn’t supposed to be able to do.

The taller of the reanimated bodies was your basic warning on magic, a soul brought back to be a slave, that would not be broken and slayed its master.

The second told a melancholy story that almost stirred me to action.

Brought to life by a grieving man attempting to bring back a daughter who had died, she was an imperfect creation ragged in flesh and odd in mind.

As I first observed her she was sowing up wounds in her flesh with no more apparent discomfort than some one sowing clothes.

I immediately saw the similarities between her and Greta I am after all a super genius. When she told how her ‘father’ had been taken away by the ‘pale blue’ I almost acted without a plan.

‘How simple it would be’ I thought ‘To steal back her father from the police, kidnap the girl and help him perfect the task’

It was a grim truth that stopped me.

There I was in the Lions Den, and without my technology, my robots and death rays, my subtle magic devices and spells I was a lamb.

Perhaps I helped the little rag doll girl and her farther you will have to read on to find out.

Chapter Two. Origin

What makes a makes a man?

His past? Some even that forever changed him and sculpted his future? Or perhaps everything is predestined from birth and it’s your genes that make you who you are?

Maybe its even simply culture and climate, how and where you grew up what shapes the adult you become.

And powers do they shape a man? Or does a man shape his powers to suit himself?

Now to understand my origin you have to accept the theory of cascading parallel dimensions, just accept it, I know they are real and after all I am far smarter than you.

Now in the little dimension I was born everything flowed perfectly normal, almost exactly the same as this Earth infact. Maybe the small variables were different the exact words said by one man to another, what George Washington used to have for breakfast. But the major historical events were the same. Until the nineteen twenties that is, no one was sure what caused it though I myself have theories about it.

An explosion echoed around the Earth an explosion of magical energy that tore the clouds and shook the Earth, and then nothing seemed to happen. Indeed nothing changed for an entire year, but one year post the explosion winter came and it didn’t leave.

Decades passed and society changed with the new ice age and it was into this world I was born. A world of harsh winds and blinding white snow fields that stretched for thousands of miles.

My earliest memories are of my adopted family, for parents I had Farther Mikale and Sister Tina. Kindly god fearing folk they had established an orphanage at the edge of the snow plains, I honestly can’t tell you where we lived back then, it was still several years before events gave me my powers and I had never even seen a map at that age.

For an elder brother I had Marco and to tell you the truth no matter who I met later in my life, I don’t think I’ve ever respected some one more. As a child I looked up to him as the perfect example of a man, I could often be seen toddling after him childishly aping his actions.

Years later came my little sister Nicola her mother died during childbirth as she desperately made her way to The New World Republic after raiders attacked her village.

And there I would say is my origin point, everything I’ve done with my life no matter how terrible, how damming on my soul, has been for her sake.

Truth be told I would burn the world to see her smile.

Life continued poorly but happily until the approach of my tenth birthday, winter came that year and with it the raiders.

While the much of the world banded together for survival during the ice age not everyone did, the world was split between those in The New World Republic and those who were raiders.

The events are still sketchy and my memory of the event is broken by the trauma that was infected I remember trying to defend the door to our little home with my brother and father, I remember stabbing and slashing and red blood on the white snow.

I remember the face of the raider who slashed away my vision, of course I remember what I later did to him when I became who I am now.

The village managed to hold off the raiders with a small amount of fatalities, the raiders were run off when Rangers arrived from a near by army base.

I’d meet the raiders again several years later, but by that point I was much more than a frightened boy with a kitchen knife.

As a family we left and headed for the capital, it was for my sake really they hoped some one could heal my eyes, secretly I think we all knew that it was hopeless. How wrong we were.

At the capital we were approached by a Doctor and a member of the Rangers who had saved our little village. They’d been impressed by will to try and fight even when blinded, and they offered us two things, the chance that I could be healed and in the case of it failing money and a place to live in the city.

I accepted as I’ve said, for Nicolas sake I would gladly die and burn in hell.

They did things to me there, things ranging from science to mystical processes. They gave me new eyes, eyes that are inhuman I can see in several spectrums of energy. My blood burns in my veins now something more alchemical than natural, it’s brought other changes I’m faster and stronger than a person has any right to be.

They accelerated my growth and then turned of my aging, at eleven years old I looked like I was thirty and now at eighty five years old I’m still physically thirty years old.

My new blood warped and shaped my organs, making me resistant to almost anything, I can hold my breath for nearly a day and I no longer need to eat, my body can draw energy to keep itself going from sunlight and other energy.

Not that I’ve stopped eating mind you, I still like a nice well done steak with hot sauce, remember that its probably on the test.
Every part of me was modified by my new blood, my nerves quickened I can dodge bullets if I focus my mind on doing so, but the equipment I use means a bullet won’t stop me so I only do it when I want to show off.

The nerve enhancements of course extended to my brain and I became a super genius that is to say, the never enhancements and having the sum of man kinds knowledge taught me at an amazing speed. My eyes can read an entire screen of data in a nanosecond and my brain is fast enough to process it.

So the scientists fed me the information new eyes watching the screen for days on end as book after book was fed directly into my brain.

Of course it wasn’t just science they taught me. Warfare followed both tactical teachings and of course actual combat training.

Once again I’d like to say I see violence as a last resort, If I want something I’ll set a plan in motion to acquire it, hire some one to steal it. Simply smashing some one over the head and taking what I want is ever so low brow, not that I couldn’t after all there is a science to fighting and I am a Super Genius.

I nearly lost my mind at that point, and I’m sure I would of if not for my family. My mothers comforting arms, the assurances that everything would be okay from my brother and little Nicola singing the same lullabies we had used to calm her down as a baby.

My father said something then that has stayed with me ever since

‘Son needs must when the devil drives’

In the years since when ever I began to doubt who I had allied myself with or the outcome of plans I had set in motion I remember my burden and I remember those words.

It was a year later that I gained my title, the raider groups had joined together to form a vast band. A group of which had avoided the Rangers patrols, they were camped outside of the city, untouchable by the rangers as they had hostages.

Among the hostages were children who had been learning how the cities farms worked.

Among said children was the daughter of the president of The New World Republic and Nicola my sister.

While the presidents orders held the ranger back from attacking while negotiations were going on there is nothing. I repeat NOTHING that will stop me if Nicola is in danger.

Assuming my plans have come to fruition and your reading the published edition of my journal, you had better note that, harming her will get you killed no matter what the hell you are!

But I digress though that time was to give a warning not an anecdote.

As I said nothing would stop me so I grabbed my armour and went to deal with the raiders.

That day was the first and hopefully last time I’ve ever been consumed by bloodlust, I hit the raiders like an apocalypse. Did you know if you hit some with an object the size of a fist travelling just under the speed of sound they explode?

I didn’t until that day.

Some of the raiders were clever than the others they threatened the hostages, I actually fully lost it that point my vision clouded all I could see was red and smell blood, when IO regained my sense I’d killed all the raiders who had been camped there.

Late I was told I was like a blur on the snow, a red mist of blood and death travelling from raider to raider faster than the eye can track.

Not a single hostage died.

I was given my title then something I brought with me to this world.

And that is my origin my little how I cam to be, of course it doesn’t explain why I tried to take over the world and what has kept me trying so long, but they will be explained in later chapters.

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1 Bounty hunter?
2 The Shadow
3 A mixture of Iron man and others including Iron Lad
4 Vision?

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If you say it like that all heroes or villains we create will be findable in marvel or dc. They have thousands of heroes already.

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True but he did ask.

Its not the starting point that matters character wise after all but how you develope him/her.

1 Bounty hunter?
2 The Shadow
3 A mixture of Iron man and others including Iron Lad
4 Vision?

((Creative piece. Eventual origin for a new RP char, and testing a new style of writing))

Chapter One Breakout

You’ll have to forgive the style and wandering nature of this piece, it’s a remnant of the man who among many things taught me to read and write and since should I succeed in my attempts, this will be a forced subject matter you have no choice but to read. Pay attention there is likely to be a test ahead.
While most autobiographies start with birth or the lead up to some momentous event mine starts simply with the day of my recent escape from the Ziggurat Penitentiary.

Now before I start let me just say it was not the ‘cretinous staff’ or the ‘security systems designed by a chimp’ that allowed my escape. Of all the secure facilities they’ve held me in since my capture over the English Channel the Ziggurat or the ‘Zig’ as its more commonly known, was by far the most secure.

Truth be told I could of walked out of there and any of the others should the fancy of taken me, but I stayed because time is not an issue to me and it amused me to see the flow of power and influence with the zoo like penitentiary. To see the new comer so [censored] sure of themselves, so certain they are a lion only to discover they are no more than a mouse.

But I digress back to the matter at hand.

The day of my escape was like most Sundays, various of the inmates were engaged in their religious practises, those without blood sacrifices and the such at least.

For me Sundays meant a visit from one of the various psychiatrists that work in the penitentiary. For all that I helped the Axis during the Second World War, despite battling the allies and their super humans across, and in spite of those I’ve killed with my bare hands, though my hands weren’t actually bare at the time, they still believe that I can be reformed brought over to the side of the angels.

Well at least the angels acceptable to the United States Of America.

Perhaps they believe this because during my time of self enforced imprisonment I’ve never actually killed anyone, not an inmate or a guard not even a smug self assured psychiatrist who asks

‘Do you see the world as your mother, is that why you wanted to control it?’

Despite my own preference to none violent means of communication this is the seventh different psychiatrist to see me so far this year.

Some of them are simply killed when they ask the wrong individual

‘When you held up the bank, was it really just an attempt to hold you mother?’

And were promptly torn apart by some enraged half man half hippopotamus, that managed to snap its handcuffs.

Some simply quit, perhaps it’s the stories, after all there can only be so many horror stories a man can hear before he’s simply burnt out. His dreams of humanity and helping others shattered under the weight of tales he’s been told.

But again I digress back to the tale in hand.

The fellow before me his name card identifies him as Tim Stewart, he looks me over once and then adverts his eyes.

At this point I would like to point out he didn’t do this because I’m freakishly scarred or mutated or anything.

When they took me in I was wearing my armour a specially designed symbiotic living metal and they assumed this was my normal flesh, it’s difficult to make and pretty much proof to any weapon some one could make in a prison so I never corrected them on this mistake. It makes me chuckle sometimes to think that up until that point no one on Earth had seen my real face.

Well no one on ‘this’ Earth anyway.

So there I stand fully armoured a magnificent grotesque iron gargoyle all jagged surfaces and shinning with a glisten like gun metal.

I’ll admit that the effect was rather spoiled by the bright orange jump suit and handcuffs, but obviously you don’t get tailor made clothes in a prison.

He gestures to a chair and I sit down studying his face, I do that a lot a remnant of a different teachers habits.

He’s obviously trying to think of what to say, after all reforming me would be a rather large feather in his cap, at least a five book deal maybe more.

What he doesn’t know is that something more is going to happen today, he hasn’t been here long enough to feel the place. Most people don’t stay long enough, the prison guards some can feel it. A dangerous glint in the air, peoples hair bristling, a taste of ozone. The feeling that a storm is coming.

Its particularly noticeable among the inmates who serve the organisation Arachnos and its super powered dictator Lord Recluse.

You know I don’t get why he calls himself Lord Recluse, I know it’s the name of a spider I am after all a Meta-human level genius, but why that particular type of spider?

I mean it suggests does it not that he is reclusive, a shut in, a hermit, a recluse. But from what I heard he has a city as his base of power, and said city is covered in broadcast screens from which he preaches to the citizens about how big and bad and destined he is.

Really it’s not something I can understand.

If anyone has any ideas please write in, address your postcard to ‘Our Glorious Leader The Great Baron Eternity. Number 1 The Big Flying Castle, That Watches Over Us’ if I find your answer acceptable I will give you Australia.

Again I digress and again let us return to the story at hand.

I’d watched the rise of Arachnos with some interest though the papers and television that we are allowed only to watch from a distance through armoured glass. After all they were housing super villains, let one get too close to a TV and you might just be facing some form of robot or mind control device within minutes.

It was the closest I’d ever come to just walking out of a captivity and joining another organisation since lending the Axis my power and knowledge.

I watched with growing interest as Arachnos conquered the Rogue Islands and then… nothing. A stalemate both the USA and Arachnos sniping at each other, covert operations, terrorist actions but nothing decisive.

So I settled back down into my captivity until that day of rising tension.

So this fellow Tim, I’m sure he won’t mind me calling him Tim, assuming he survived the events of the breakout and assuming he survived what ever brought me to power, had no idea that this was not the best day to start work at the ‘Zig’.

He coughed nervously, and drank some coffee to clear his throat, luke warm by the look of it, I can see in infra-red by the way you should probably remember that its likely on the test, they don’t give them hot coffee in the ‘Zig’ after all why give some one another thing they can scold or maim you with.

Nor do they give us coffee in these, meetings not since the fellow with super strength decapitated his psychiatrist by spitting a high speed, super pressurised disc of coffee from his mouth.

Not that I mind, hate the stuff, again likely on the test.
Question: What is our glorious leader the great Baron Eternity likely to do if you offer him a cup of coffee?

Answer: Punch you in the face.

So Tim is sat there nervously playing with his coffee, when the first explosion occurs, to him it is a dull rumble and a flakes of cement falling on his hair.

To me it is vibrations in the wall, a loud thump and waves of sonar moving through the air, and of course flakes of cement landing on my armour.

I can hear now the metallic clangs of armoured figures running through the ‘Zigs’ corridors, the roar of inmates as the storm erupts, a mass breakout is on the cards.

Now Tim hasn’t done anything to offensive at this point so I snap my handcuffs easily and with a single blow knock him unconscious.

Now violence is usually my last resort but he was liable to get himself killed running around with all the animals on the loose. After all Vlad the baby eater, might not just eat babies.

I open the door to the room and drop the two guards a single blow for each and bundle them into the room, again the guard’s hadn’t done anything offensive.

On that note though it seemed to die out as years went by I’m rather annoyed at people guard’s goose stepping and giving each other the Nazi salute when I’m under their charge. Its not particularly clever, and its annoying I’m not after all even German. It’s not big it’s not clever and it gets annoying fast.

I step outside and turn my attention to the door, a quick rewiring and it can only be opened from the inside, super genius remember?

I walk towards the sounds of explosions, the black armoured figures of the Arachnos troops are every where. I give it another two minutes before Longbow response arrives and this place becomes a war zone.

A red caped figure catches my attention, looking from me to his PDA and then back again.

I don’t blame him though yes my armour is really distinct I had been in ‘retirement’ for around seventy years.

And there we go to another test question.

Question: If our glorious leader the great Baron Eternity doesn’t age, why does his record’s note declining health?

Answer: He play acted, partially for amusement and partially to ensure they didn’t increase security beyond the level he could escape. Super Genius Remember?
‘Baron Eternity?’ he asked

Looking as I do and more importantly wearing a bright orange jumpsuit with the name Baron Eternity above my prisoner number on the breast I could hardly deny it.

‘What of it?’ I replied

‘Lord Recluse has need of those with great destiny. You’re on the list’ he tapped the PDA with its pen.

‘Interesting’ I replied

I was actually interested, don’t let my later actions fool you, I at that point really did want to see how Lord ‘not so reclusive’ Recluse was assessing peoples destiny.

It was a short journey from there past crowds of inmates settling scores, some with guards others with other inmates.

The flyer was both a surprise and a delight, technology had obviously advanced while I had been inactive. It took me a few moments study my vision switching between spectrums to work out how it functioned. Once again all together this time. Super Genius Remember?

I boarded the flyer with several other jump suited escapees, ranging from normal, to animal to obviously vegetable and mineral. Luckily none of them were mutterers, I can’t stand people who mutter and grumble to themselves all the time.

The flyer took off silently, something that startled some of the other passengers, but I had expected it, after all no one loads a craft with so many stealth fields only to have it sound like a freight train.

As we left soaring into the sky Longbow arrived, soldiers below and around us their own aircraft. One of the passengers threw a ball of fire out the opened door, surprisingly giving the speed of our accent and the rapid movements of the Longbow ships it hit sending the craft spiralling and burning to the ground.

Several of the passengers cheered, one even whooped.

The stealth fields kicked in and the flyer was rapidly out of the Penitentiaries air space, soon outside of the city and then over international waters.

But of course this is the story of Our Glorious Leader The Great Baron Eternity, not Baron Eternity Lackey To A Badly Named Spider Themed Dictator.

But on to the next chapter the story of what makes a man as great as me and why I took over the world.

((Huzzah no more annoying uniprojects sapping my ability to do anything useful at all. Just a small update to warm up))

Paragon City
Sarah smiled contently to herself as she read through the book. It had been a gift from a man called Steve a guide to being heroic, a lexicon of modern day chivalry a well to be honest its just the handbook given to people upon receiving their Hero licence still to Sarah who had failed her application it was a god send.

Previously she’d been learning ‘heroism’ from the Peers and Nobles: Guide To Caped Crusading, a book she’d found in a long disused Firth Column base, as Miss Leadndrea had [pointed out ‘You’re trying to learn from a book that was outdated before I was even born’.

It had proved useful Sarah thought reflectively, as the time span between the villains working out what she’d said and then acting was often enough for her to close to combat range.
In her head she could feel Sigma though it wasn’t communicating with her, if it was capable of emotions she thought Sigma would be in a sulk.

Miss Leandrea had given her a farewell hug and despite Sigma’s attempts at trying to pre-emptively counter attack what it saw as grapple based combat situation, she’d managed to stop the machine side of her body, AI had met human will and she’d won.

The words swam on the page before her so she closed the book and rested her head on her knees, she couldn’t feel pain but was still suffering the effects of her previous experiment.

It had said in the book, to test your powers to the limit, so she had, activating her full combat mode every system in her body primed, her skin had sliced open as new components and armour had covered her body.

But with everything running the heat was incredible it rolled off her in waves, the machine parts humming with furiously turning gears, buts it not only her mechanical side that was affected.

The heat flooded her body boiling her blood sending it searing though her veins as fast as the pumps that replaced her heart could send it, with it road nanites repairing the damage as fast as it occurred, heat expanded the molecules in her blood, meaning she could contain less oxygen in her blood stream.

In turn new systems flooded her blood stream with enough oxygen to keep her going, and when the super heated, oxygen enriched blood reached her brain odd things began to happen.

The swimming vision is just another side affect she thought as she began to fall asleep.




Rogue Islands

The machine moved its gears giving counter point to the dull clump of its steps, the corridors were now silent. Hours previously a fierce if one sided battle had waged here, on the one side mechanical forces, defence constructs, force fields , blast doors and electrical fields. The other side two unknown meta-human males.

The machines over mind dragged data from the walls from what pieces of the defence machines still functioned and as its frame walked down the blast torn corridor it constructed a view of what had happened.

Two unknown males. Their actions noting them as meta human one was able to phase and blast an unknown substance or energy, the other was taking damage that could destroy armoured vehicles in seconds without apparently taking fatal harm.

One target spoke with an accent that marked him as not from the Rogue Islands or Paragon city, the second spoke an unknown dialect. The machine over mind decided it was the gibbering vocal iterations of a mentally deficient mad being.

One of the targets had gibbered something, the other had agreed and said they were getting close and that he could feel her really strong now.

The frame turned a corner and saw what the two figures goal had been Saria Lansing, the meta human chosen for the emotion of hate. Her powerful destructive energy had seemed ideal to tear and destroy the minds of those who opposed the TLF.

[Tactically], the Over mind computed [She Must Of Summoned: Two Males: Rescue Her.]

[This Will Cause: Delay] it reasoned [Artifact: Throne Of Bedlam: -1 Meta Human Components]

[Additional: Delay] it computed updating its operational files [She May Inform: Others: Actions: TLF: Primary Attribute: Stealth]

As the machine walked away it planned, planned for the way the war would be fought.


Rogue Islands

The girl worked as the over mind instructed, though not as a slave for though she was under the command of the over mind, she was also its central node and part of what directed that will.

One of the secondary nodes frames had encountered a target. An unknown meta-humanoid later identified to be Dr Edward Johnson.

The meta-humanoid had threatened the machine to keep away from Jean-Luc then to display the punishment for further actions, he’d engaged the frame in combat and unexpectedly had defeated it.

The Over Mind was not worried for worry was an emotion and a machine has no need of them. It had [censored] the combat logs of the frame and had decided to simply build one more capable of fighting Dr Edward Johnson..

He’d done something to confuse the frame processors to lock them, make it unable to take action.

The next frame would be a tool of violence the Over Mind had calculated, capable only of mindless, directionless, unstoppable destruction should its processors.

Sparks seared the girls body as she worked, forging a new frame and a new weapon.

Assuming we can design the bosses it'd be a chance for us villianous villians to do some proper villiany, multiple story arc, each with the same shadowy mastermind behind them.

The clues adding up, a realisation, a confrontation, love lost and gained and 1000 elephants!

OMG

/e collapses spasming from an awestomtastic overdose.

I like out how though your accents thicker he is a less irritating character than Gambit :P

And it could be worse you could write with a phonetic Glaswegian accent.

Paragon City

Her arm gave a slight whine and muscles in her back clenched as she lifted the remains of a car. Shifting it enough that she could access the secrets hidden below she marvelled no one had found this place before.

Well truth be told she could see why it might have been forgotten, if not for the way she saw the world, she’d of passed it by if not for the urgings of the other voice in her mind.

‘Can’t wait until I find out what’s in there maybe something cool like a fridge. This is a good place to scavenge’ she mused to herself as she forced the car to a more stable position.

[Scavenge Query? This Intelligence: Perceives: you Are Merely Playing.]

She frowned the voice in her head had changed since she’d tried to take her own life, it’d become less sure of it self, less arrogant, less superior almost friendly in fact. Why it was doing this she didn’t know, but secretly she believed it was just trying to lower her guard and take over again

Still it was proving helpful even if apparently saw itself far superior to humans, she’d been scavenging for useful technology in the various dumps and junkyards around the city to make new equipment and repair the old, it was a job not playing, though truthfully it was really fun to do so.

And so eventually she arrived at this junkyard, she’d given it a couple of looks over and not found anything worthwhile but the other voice in her head had.

It overlaid its senses with hers and pointed out the flow of energy underground. The amount directed to the centre of the junkyard was unnatural something was there under the mountain of rusting metal and broken appliances.

So she’d started to dig, shifting cars, washing machines anything in the mountain of metal that would moved as she worked her way down.

Eventually she worked her way to ground level, camouflaged by the trash mountain was a concrete bunker, on the door was a sign she didn’t recognise.

[Symbol Represents: Organisation: The Fifth Column]

She felt a brief shudder of excitement, a forgotten villains base.

‘Bet it’s full of all sorts of cool things’ she mused

[Probable Outcome: Danger] the voice of her machine parts supplied

She reached out for the door, but things changed and to days adventure was forgotten the clouds darkened and the sky became a sickly green, thunder rumbled and lightning arced across the tortured clouds.

‘Rikti’ the sense of excitement soured and for a few moments she felt like a normal little girl terrified by what was to come.

[Uploading GPS Files: Location Set: Closest Shelter]

She ran feeling the pull in the machine half of her brain, drawing her onwards to promised safety. Explosions rocked the earth and she felt in addition to the pull of safety an instinct that forced her to change her heading.

[Target: Avoidance: Rikti Ship]

The machine side of her mind was scanning as far it as it could plotting the routes of the strafing bombers.

She heard them before she saw them panicked people pilling in the safety shelter, the doors had to be small for security but it was causing panic.

She ran as the doors began to close and heard a woman scream, her child had fallen and the doors were closing.

[Proceed To the Entrance. Time Limited] the machine voice urged

She looked round and saw a small boy sobbing on the floor.

[There Is Insufficient Time] the voice informed her

She made a decision and ran to the boy, lifting him with her machine arm she dashed to wards the closing the doors managing to push him through just before the doors clanged shut with her on the outside.

[That Was: Mistake: Foolish] the voice advised her

The air around her crackled as the heavily armoured Rikti began teleporting from their ships.

‘Guess I go out like this huh?’ she thought as a blast of energy knocked her off her feet.

She could feel warmth running down her chest as she lay where she landed stunned.

‘Does this make up for it?’ she wondered as a large armoured figure walked towards her.

She closed her eyes and waited for the final blow.

[I REFUSE!] the voice in her mind screamed and she felt her self moving

She opened her eyes she wasting the Riktis weapon held in an iron grip the barrel still smoking , held so that it aimed over her.

[This: Intelligence: Can Not Survive: Without Biological: Component: Sarah Mc Kensie]

She could feel something flowing through what served as her blood, boiling and surging though her veins.

[This Intelligence: Refuses: To Die: Therefore: You Can Not]

Her body moved propelled by the machine using the bulk of the Rikti target to cover her from the fire of its allies.

[If This Intelligence: Takes Over Frame: This Intelligence Destroyed By:Dr Edward Johnson . Should This Intelligence: Remain Idle : Frame Destroyed By: Rikti]

The Rikti was struggling to free its weapon.

[You Wish Redemption Query? You Wish To Save More Lives Than You Have Taken Query? This Intelligence: Will Aid You: Will You Accept Query?]

She nodded then giving her acceptance, her senses changed and her mental time frame quickened as for the first time since :Dr Edward Johnson had revived her she accepted what she had become.

[Preparing: Combatus Protocols: Objective Query?] the voice intoned

She let go of the Rikti weapon and span round driving her metal fist into its stomach with all the force muscle and motor could provide. Unhooking a device from her belt she raised it into a combat position as the Rikti trooper toppled backwards stunned.

‘Objective Escape’ she silently commanded

[Acknowledged: Establish Escape Route: Establish Target: Attributes]

She rushed forward the machine half of her brain examining threats and her human side responding.

Some time later she’d escaped and sat resting in an outlet to the sewer system.

‘Sigma’ she thought

[Query?]
‘I’m going to need a costume’ she smiled for the first time since the incident.


The Rogue Islands.

The machine held the man against the wall with one hand. Hoisting him by his throat his struggling kicks occasionally hitting the machine.

[Command: Class O.R.A.C.L.E: Mutant Subject: 18-7-23. Is Not Of Required Psionic Strength]

<Dispose of him and return to closest safe house. We have incoming Rikti attacks>

[Acknowledged]

The machine drew back its fist and with a crunch ended the mans life. Close by another part of the over mind stood watching the darkening clouds with some intrest.

>Target: Class: Rikti: Posses : Technology: Possible Future Use

<Enquiry: Requisition Technology Query?

The two left the house and started walking towards an underground complex taken over by the TLF some time ago.

[Request: Permission: Engage Rikti: Purpose: Gather Technology] the over mind asked over its connection to O.R.A.C.L.E

The pair continued walking one was a little girl probably no older then eleven the second a figure that dwarfed most humans. Both drew no more attention than usual in the isles where glancing at some one the wrong way was likely to end your life.

Still even for the Isles the streets were deserted as even the animals began to hide in dread.

<Request denied. The Rikti are only to be engaged if they directly threaten a members life, other wise they are simply serving our purpose by erasing the weak for us> O.R.A.C.L.E’s command was crisp and to the point

[Acknowledged]

The two headed towards the safe house as lightning flashed across the skies the sound of heavy artillery boomed as Arachnos installations across the island fired on the approaching ships.

>Situation: Similar: Assault: Heradillion City
<Slight: Differences: Tactical Situation: Must Be Altered

>Agreement

They marched onwards as around them bombs fell and people died. They were approaching the entrance to the bunker when the first wave of the invading ground forces appeared.

The sound of whirring gears came from the girl and metal seeped from cut in her flesh, within seconds she resembled a smaller version of the giant humanoid machine

>Combatus: Protocols: Loaded: Scriptus Tacticus: Verse Seven Active

<Combatus: Protocols: Loaded: Scriptus Tacticus: Verse Ten Active

Several Rikti soldiers appeared close by, blocking their path to the bunker. One raised his weapon to aim at the pair and was left instantly with a glowing smoking hole in his torso.

Gears roared as the large machine fell on the other Rikti tearing and smashing them with incredible strength. The girl provided back up fire the cannons on her arms blasting through flesh and armour alike. As they fought the pair drew closer to the bunker.

The doors sealed behind them and they descended into the depths of the earth.

[ QUOTE ]
I was really looking forward to the VEATs for years now, but......

after seeing the video i was very dissapointed:

Most powers seem to be exact copies of powers ingame for 4 years already.
At least they could have made new animations or changed the colour of all the psi, mid powers fortunatas or nightwidows get.
In my opinion a brandnew powerset should at least have 70% new unique animations or looks.
Maybe they play different than other ATs but it will still look the same.
Kheldians at least have really unique powers.

I would have gladly waited for VEATs till I13, if that gave the devs more time to develop new or cooler poweranimations, than just reuse existing ones.

I am not talking about how they will play, maybe they are fun , i only talk about the look of the powers.

[/ QUOTE ]

Handsup if your power set has back mounted artillery and an actual nuceur bomb?

<<looks round>>
Thought so.

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
In Marvel and DC comics still exist.

It's just another kind of entertainment.

[/ QUOTE ]
Absolutely, but the point was that DC Comics don't exist in the Marvel Universe, but Marvel Comics actually do! In the CoH Universe we don't dispute that comic books do exist, but in what form. Purely as fictional entertainment, or as something more truthful?

[/ QUOTE ]

Actually, I'm sure I've read references to Superman in Marvel comics.

Though I'm not sure which ones they were.

[/ QUOTE ]

DC comics do exist in Marvel.

Spiderman reads them.

In addition to comics of Superheroes they make cheasy movies as well in Marvel.

Abandoned Water Purification Station AKA Twilighter’s base. Paragon City.


Again Sarah thought things through, going over the reasons the lists she had made steeling her self for the action she was about to take.

She had wanted to be a hero, turn what she’d become in to a force of good, but events had proved that impossible, she’d killed good people under the control of Battle Unit Omega and again under the control of the council.

“I’m not even human any more just some sort of machine” she muttered

[Correction: 60% Machine Too Organic Ratio]

“Less than half a person. Just a weapon to be used to kill and hurt others.”


She steeled her will

“But no more, if a weapon is dangerous it’s a heroes job to destroy it!”

She picked up the white plastic bottle from the bottle and opened it the acrid chemical smell making her flinch back. Her hand was trembling as she raised the bottle to her lips, as she took a mouthful it seemed strange to her that it didn’t taste of anything.

She swallowed more and more until half the bottle was empty, she felt a tingling spread through her body, then a burning as if liquid fire was flowing through her veins.

‘Mission accomplished’ she thought as her vision dimmed and she blacked out.

[This Will Not Be: Biological Component: Sara McKensie: Self Silencing Denied: Engaging Survival Protocols]


Nerva Archipelago. Agincourt

“Suppressing fire! Keep it on him men!” the longbow warden roared at the men in his squad.

The figure they were focusing shots on was massive humanoid construction of metal, towering over the Longbow soldiers.

Bullets met its hardened frame and glanced off, a Longbow soldier took aim and unleashed a torrent of flame from his flame frower the machine paused for a second, its head turning to face him then it rushed through the flame, one red hot hand slamming into his face.

As he crumpled to the floor a flash went off on his belt and he was pulled away by the medi-port system.

“Keep the fire on him, I’m going in!” the Longbow Warden rushed in

As the machine turned to face him he leaped into the air focusing energy into his legs for a powerful kick. Seeing what the machine was capable of he went straight for his killed blow.

It wasn’t enough, metal buckled under his kick but the machine reached out to grasp his leg and swung him into the concrete floor, he felt the first three impacts but the others seemed softer, he felt the pull of the medi-port system as it triggered from his critical injuries.

A voice crackled over the intercom

“All men fall back to the next floor. The Med-port system is over hearting! Do not engage target! Repeat do not engage!”

Their never broken the rest of the squad turned and ran.

In the silent corridors of the base the heavy footsteps of the machine and its turning gears.

[Sixty Seconds Arrival To Target]


Paragon City. Steel Canyon. G.I.F.T offices


The girl sat in silence her augmentations hidden by the large raincoat she wore with the hood up despite the warmth of the reception area. Two men stood behind the large wooden reception desk though they whispered too each other she clearly heard every word.

“Kids creeping me out sat there like a monk or something”

“Come on Hal not everyone’s happy with what they look like when their mutation becomes active”

“I know Kyle but she could at least say something”

“She’s probably trying to work up courage you remember the first time you told people at your mutation right”

[Sixty Seconds Arrival To Target]

The girl got up and walked over to the reception desk

“See here she comes” one of the men whispered

“How can I help you hun?” he asked with a warm smile

Said smile was removed from his face as the girl punched across the reception desk breaking bones and causing him to drop to the floor in pain

The second man reached under the table but stopped as the sleeve on the girls other arm fell back revealing a vicious gun barrel. The girl spoke then her words clipped and precise

“Suggestion: Target If You Wish To Live: Take This Unit To The Server Room”

With the attack on both Longbows computers and these at Gift the information the Machine Overmind planned to take would be lost in the data surge.

In Marvel and DC comics still exist.

It's just another kind of entertainment.

I mean we still have soap operas after all and they are more often than not about normal people.

[ QUOTE ]
First things first: :ets Hates::

Now. I'm not sure which of these count as pet hates, but, whilst we're a-hating:

Spelling and grammar used to bother me quite a bit. I just seem to have got used to the mistakes. A lot of the time there is a good reason - English not a first language being the main one. For myself, I'm a ruthless perfectionist, so I tend to second-guess my spelling and grammar so much that I fall behind in IC conversations.

The IC consequences thing is quite a big one for me. The problem being that without any way for us to enforce such consequences (we can't actually arrest that hero who just admitted to a crime without the player agreeing to it), we just have to trust everyone not to break the RP world in which we're working. If you're a hero, the default assumption is that you're a hero. Blur the divide, ok, but if the believable consequence of your action is arrest and imprisonment - accept the consequence, or don't do it.

The one about the Zig is a niggle, too. It's not good for our poor little heroes' minds to have them assume that escapes from the Zig are frequent, just because the same villains seem to keep turning up. It raises the question of why they keept trying. There've been plenty of good ways around the problem - with the Militia, when we kept on facing FrostFire in the early days, we decided among ourselves that the name was just a title, and that we weren't just fighting the same guy over and over.

Edit: I'll throw in the canon/consistency one, too. Little inconsistencies don't annoy me too much, but when someone decides to rewrite history for all of us, that's just going too far. No, your character didn't kill everyone in my character's home town, or avert the well-documented disaster that defined his life. Because otherwise he wouldn't be here, see?

[/ QUOTE ]

You could go the Batman route and go 'It doesn't matter that Arkham is a revolving door and by capturing neigh insisting they are captured and not killed I'm partially responsable for the death of thousands of innocents. I'm honoring my parents memory and not compramising my morals to do so!"

<---- slaps self fully aware of his annoying personality fault of taking tangents too far.

God modding irritates the hell out of me, obviously not stuff like patting some one on the sholder, though I sually add attempts before I do anything like that.

But stuff like just happening to despite it not being based on any earth technology, not even operating on a level of physics normally used in Earth technology and written in none binary code, being able to interface with a machine.

[ QUOTE ]
That works in comics because comics are a story. RP isn't a story, it has a "life" of its own. Generally, it's considerably less fun if you know that you can't lose.

[/ QUOTE ]

Again won the war but lost the battle.

Yeah you've stopped Dr Devious and his plan to turn everyone in the wrold into Rick Gervais, so its all tea and biscuits all round.

But try and tell that to Captain Incredible who has to look after his Girlriend for the rest of his life, said girlfriend being lobotmised by Dr Devious because Captain Incredible dared stand up to him.

All having a doom days device really should do is spark the confrontations and keep the heroes going on even if they have had their spirits shattered by revenge attacks.

After all even though their 'world' is broken the real one is in peril.

Likewise the fact that the Gervais-arisor is so close to completion and that the world is only days away from seeing the funny side, should be there to stop the villian simply throwing up their hands and saying 'these heroes are too tough I'm out of here'

Then again its up to the players how they react maybe the loss of his family is so painful that despite the peril to the world Captain Couragous can't force hismelf to fight on


Maybe the prospect of a world of funny fat men isn't enough to make Baron Squidhands face the power of the Justice Force again.

Maybe if no one joins in or everyone leaves Dr Devious will suddenly realise he doesn't actualy like Ricky Gervais that much and will ditch the project.

But all the device does it start it and possibly keep it going until it gets presonal.

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
That's why, IMO, it's better to run plots that just affect small groups of people. Minimises player conflicts, makes them easier to keep a handle on, and are generally more fun.

Of course, YMMV, but it's pretty hard to convince players that their world is going to end.

[/ QUOTE ]

I tend to agree with this. I have a potential world-destroyer on my list of villains, but I am very careful to ensure that he would never decide to end the world. Destroy my main? Yep. Destroy my main and all his friends and family? Hell, yes! Proclaim himself a God and work to provide peace and happiness to all the cattl... erm... people inhabiting HIS world? Abso-flippin-lutely! But destroy the world? No.

The last and best attempt I saw at a world-destruction plotline was the Requiem War, which a) was phenomenally done, b) involved a large chunk of the RP community, c) needed the tacit agreement of even those RPers who weren't involved and d) caused NO END of OOC conflict because of all of the above.

Better to run a plotline where the impact is relatively minor to the gameworld (which is NOT the same thing as being minor to the characters involved). It's about the same level as the general agreement that kicks around amongst RPers: Don't make your character the President of the United States. Don't make your character Sister Psyche's husband. Don't run a world-destruction plot unless you can follow through if every player in the game ignores you.

[/ QUOTE ]

Thats why you drop the plot if no one is getting involved/ getting too personaly involved.

I mean after all if everyone is ignoring you all your basically doing is writing fan fiction and not actually RPing at all.

True but you use the end of the world plot to spark of other events in the storyline.

The heroes start to interfere, so you strike out at them, their families etc

Sure the plot is going to end with your machine in ruins and you dead,destroyed, imprisioned or sailing off into the night on your airship

But the minor events are what makes it up, the ehroes girlfriend kidnapped, the school/workplace bombed, the final fight atop the giant mechanical gorrila thats absorbing the sun.

All aiming to end the world does is elavate the intial spark from something more than a Paste Pot Pete level 'I hate Hero man because he stopped my bank robbery, i'm so going to run over his cat one of these days"

I mean take Dr Doom he's got the whole focused on the FF thing, but rather than a simple plot like I don't know blowing up their house, he'd do something like steal the moon and then hold it hostage unless the FF surrendered to him.

Of course in the end you know the moon will be back and the core members of the FF will be okay, But the humans torch or the things current girlfriend, will she be able to cope with the stress of ebing a target, will she perish etc etc

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
No, he means plots like yours, that if everyone ignored, still wouldn't end the world.

[/ QUOTE ]

Exactly. In fact... Even if all the heroes & villains involved HELPED the bad guy end the world... It still wouldn't end.

[/ QUOTE ]

<---- goes to look up where they keep the servers, then fetches a crow bar from the shed

Want to bet ?

[ QUOTE ]
No, he means plots like yours, that if everyone ignored, still wouldn't end the world.

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But isn't the whole point of going through with such a plot line that in the end you'll get stopped be left in the ruin of your lab hands above you fists clenched screaming

"RICHAAAAAAAARDDDDS!!!!"

I mean if you've not got some form of counteraction going on then its not really a plot line is it, it'd be more turning up a GG or more accurately Pocket D with a doomsday device that no one saw you construct?