Dr_Catastrophe

If I switch between bane and crab builds, will the crab pack be removed or will it still be there?

I'm rolling my first scrappe, but I'm terrified that I'm going to pick a dud power pool to roll it with. I'm fairly secure with my defensive (WP), and was wondering if DB or Kat gets the nod over one or the other?

Thanks for the imput =)

If I chose flight for a travel power as a scrapper, would I be limiting myself? Super speed and leaping have such useful T1 powers, hover seems like a waste, but flight is my favorite way to get around.

Is it possible to change the name of an SG?

If you have a character that you think would fit in with Scorpio, I'd toss my hat in with them any day. It's possibly the best RP group I've been in on any game.

Thanks for the tips Cher bear =P

I was in Scorpio for a while a long time ago, they were a pretty solid group. Very organized, big on uniforms and such. The members were really nice as well. The only thing I wasn't in love with as a member, it was difficult to RP a super hero. Their RP group theme was more down to earth, more Batman than Superman if that makes sense.

The little bulbs next to Virtue on the server select list are always yellow or red, but I barely see anyone wandering around in the Rogue Isles, where is everyone?

Like the title of the post implies, I am a returning player looking to join up with an active RP group. I haven't played in a really long time, and was thinking of starting a demon summoning mastermind. I'd be willing to faction change if there's more interesting RP blue side (which there usually was back in my day). I'm researching SGs at the moment as well, but thought I'd drop a line here as well. Thanks Virtue =)

Title: Black Dawn
Length: Very Long
Difficulty: Hard, ends with a custom AV and contains all custom enemies

Description: The earth has been invaded by a mysterious army of black armored soldiers. Lead by an elite core of psychic adpets and fuled by a fanatical devotion to their "Imperator", they seek to enslave the planet. With the broad coalition of defenders, including even Arachnos and the Nemesis Army, streched to the breaking point, the Earth holds its breath waiting for a champion to lead the charge against the ruthless Empire.

Do you pine for the fruits of true villainy? Then play "The Art of Villainy" and learn to become a true black blooded villain!

arc number 41832

The monotonous sound of helicopter blades barely audible over the churning of waves made its through the night sky somewhere in the Pacific. Jonas sat in the passenger seat as still as a photograph. His young attendant sat next to him, one eyes on the chopper’s various gauges and instruments, the other out over the sea. Over the horizon crept the imposing form of a large mountain.

“Take us down by the auxiliary gate,” Jonas said.

“Yes sir,” the young man replied, tilting the controls slightly forward. The helicopter moved quickly over the water below, then the thick jungle of the island below. Landing at the foot of the mountain the chopper’s clicking died down and then vanished, leaving only an eerie silence. The young man got out first and walked around to Jonas’ side to open the door for him.

Once out of the helicopter Jonas took a deep breath and surveyed his surroundings. The ground was littered with shrapnel and the burned out husks of mechanized soldiers held in place by the overgrowth that had consumed them. “Come,” Jonas said as he turned his back on it all and headed into the jungle. He moved nimbly through the savage foliage for several minutes until passing into a small clearing. In the center of the clearing, leading down into the earth, was a rusty metal staircase. At the bottom was an open door leading into a pitch black tunnel. Without a pause Jonas went down the steps and through the shadowed doorway. “Mathew,” Jonas said as he scanned the darkened hallway.

“Yes?”

“Go to the A block generator and activate it.”

The young man nodded and walked briskly down one of the corridors, unhindered by the darkness. Heading in the opposite direction, Jonas did the same, the eyepiece of his helmet humming slightly.

As he walked, Jonas paid no attention to the scattered remains of dismembered androids and white skeletons. He moved with purpose as the tail of his coat swept a path though the floor’s thick dust. He eventually came to a large metal door, shut firmly, which barred his path. A moment later however the light around him began to flicker. Thin gold lines running along the walls began to illuminate as well and the door before him creaked open. Before him extended a bridge running between trenches filled with desks and computer terminals. At the end of the bridge was a large computer mainframe and a control console. When he reached it, Jonas took a moment to wipe away a sheet of dust before starting to type madly.

The computer monitor before Jonas sparked to life. “Synthetic Intelligence Operational Network, SION, online,” said a soft female voice.

“I want you to run a full diagnostic of all of this facility’s operational functions as well as those that are non-operational,” Jonas replied.

For several moments there was no response, only the hum of computer processors broke the silence. “Diagnostic complete,” SION said eventually. “Active systems are as follows, medical facilities fully operational. Transporter bay, fully operational. Auxiliary control room, fully operational. Secondary power generators, fully operational. The fabricator is operational, but requires significant repairs before regaining total functionality. Systems not responding are as follows, defense grid both interior and exterior, destroyed. Primary control center, destroyed. Primary power generator, critically damaged and unable to function. The facility’s core has been sealed off, in line with the self destruction protocol and cannot be accessed. That is the facility’s current state, would you like to make another query?”

“No, activate the fabricator and begin construction of as many battle droids as is possible. Matthew, begin calibrating the transporters to these locations,” Jonas said, tossing a disk over his shoulder to the young man who had just crossed the bridge behind him.

“Yes sir,” he replied. “But to where do these coordinates lead?”

“We need manpower, money, and sophisticated technological components to repair this facility, and there is only one place on earth where such things are easily accessible, the Rogue Isles.”

“Did you see how high I swinged Granpa?” asked a small boy as he tugged on the sleeve of a gray haired man walking beside him.

“Of course,” the man replied, his sagging cheeks tightening as he smiled. The sun was high in the blue summer sky as the two went up the walkway of a suburban house in Anytown USA. The lock clicked as the old man turned his key.

“You left the radio on again Granpa,” the boy said as Mozart’s Requiem wafted down the hall. The boy ran ahead as the old man smiled warmly. His tired hands slowly united the laces of his shoes and he put them away before following. When he turned the corner into the living room, his heart skipped a beat. The boy was on the floor with some green army men, across from him was a young copper haired man wearing a black suit. He was using the tan army to fight against the boy. In an armchair next to the still going record player was someone in a black trench coat with an upturned collar. A downturned black fedora covered his face. “Look Granpa, some people came to visit you.”

“Let him go,” the old man said, just loudly enough for his voice to carry over the music.

The young man looked to the figure in the armchair who nodded slightly. “Let’s leave these two to talk,” the younger man said smiling to the boy.

“All right,” the boy replied as he took the young man’s hand and followed him out of the room.

For a moment the two men were silent, their eyes scanning over one another. “Jonas, you’re—“

“Alive? Why shouldn’t I be?” The man in the chair asked as he removed his fedora to reveal a smooth black helmet that encapsulated his entire head. A thin horizontal slit ran across his eyes.

“The world thinks you’re dead Jonas. It has for 17 years, and if I were you I’d let it keep thinking that. What are you trying to accomplish by showing your face?”

“I’d tell you Andrew, but history has taught me that you are not to be trusted. Suffice to say that I wish to take a more active role in international affairs once again.”

“You can’t go back to the way things were Jonas. With the Soviets out of the picture the international community is much more cohesive. And even if you manage to outmaneuver Longbow, Arachnos doesn’t take kindly to competition.”

“You’re boring me Andrew. You know why I’m here so please don’t insult my intelligence by trying to dissuade me from my intended course.”

Andrew closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Please, just spare my grandson.”

Jonas chuckled, his laughter echoing from his helmet. “Only someone devoid of emotion would harm that sweet child. I have nothing against him, but there is one thing I cannot abide, and that is a traitor.”

“Can I at least have a cigarette before I die?” Jonas reached into his pocket and tossed Andrew a lighter. “Thanks”. Andrew walked over to a table next to the couch and opened the drawer. A pack of cigarettes rested on top of a magazine, but pushed everything aside and flicked open the drawer’s false bottom. Inside was a freshly polished magnum revolver. Wrenching it out he spun to face the Jonas and pulled the trigger. The hammer clicked but nothing else happened. The hammer clicked twice more before Andrew dropped the gun to the floor.

Jonas chuckled again as he dropped a handful of silver bullets to the floor. With a flick of his wrist a small black gun slid from his sleeve. A thin streak of red light shot from the barrel with a quiet wizzing sound as Andrew fell to his knees and slumped over. Jonas put his hat back on and straightened his coat. He recovered his lighter and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He slid it through one of the small vertical slits over his mouth and lit it, taking a long drag before exhaling and flicking the burning butt onto the couch. A small flame ignited and began to slowly spread. Jonas left the room and walked down the hall. The young man with copper hair was waiting for him at the door. He opened it for Jonas and followed him out.