Evils

True, true indeed Carnifax. I do now find the mental image of a full team or several teams of SGers charging about in full SG colours bringing a little more justice to the streets instead of ignoring mobs between instances. Or for redside, killteams of Villains running around reminding the Isles just who is in charge.

Gods... the imagery...

Welcome to the forums.

It does sound pretty logical, given that debt earned by non-instance map defeats is much greater than instance missions, representing (I think, whether it's what the all-powerful Dev's were thinking I don't pretend to know) a more public defeat and subsequent humiliation.

I think that your reasons make the idea logical, although it may lead to street-sweep farming for SG's clearing mobs with abandon if the scaler is set too high. Maybe even 1.1x or 1.2x would work? Not so high that street mobs would be farmable, and not so puny as to make it not worth the effort, either.

I'd like to see it happen, at any rate.

Having written or imagined a few story arcs for my regular roleplay group, I've always stumbled now and then on 'What to do next?'.

Thanks for posting this, I'll certainly use it to better plan my usually on-the-fly events.

Rogue Isles Protector, page two.


Arachnos employees slaughtered!

This morning our sources informed us of an import/export warehouse where over thirty innocent and loyal Arachnos shipping personnel were brutally murdered in cold blood. This greivous act was performed in the late hours of yasterday evening, and is without provocation or precident.

Sources say that the warehouse's usual trade was food and mecicines for the lesser-off citizens of our glorious island home, who will now suffer for the actions of whomever commited the atrocious crime.

Sources have also revealed that a Longbow taskforce was also found within the building, all also dead. Numbering forty. Information on why the Longbow interlopers were present is not forthcoming at this time although the Longbow themselves shared injuries identical to the Arachnos employees, deep lacerations, amputations and bisections. This leads this paper to conclude a heavy and edged weapon was used.

Investigations continue, and witnesses are not forthcoming.

I often spend a couple of hours when the missioning greys into monotony or the roleplay (which has picked up for me, recently, huzzah for redside roleplay!) is thin on the ground just tinkering with the character 'skinner' as I call it. I've often made costume ideas that looked really nice, only to lose them to the aethyr when my tinkering is over. Often the char skinner is the trigger for a great concept. Anyone who knew my first Hero, Ly'Shokan can tell you about the world beneath Paragon I created for his people.

I'd love to see him immortalised on your website, were you to put it into reality.

((Whoops, should have been put here, and now has been))

/signed

Although I now have the habit of not putting a full description of may character's history, instead putting a physical description in there detailing anything that isn't apparent visually. Eye-colour, race, approximate age, approximate weight, carried and worn gear and demeanour and speech patterns.

Sometimes, even with such a cropped lot of text, it's still not enough.

Probably for char's 'real' names, odd notes about what was discussed and when, important things to remember and notes on whether to headhunt the player to join the NHU... Wait... Did I type that in silence? *gentle thought*

Anyways back on track.

Char aliases, appearance details, known associates and that kind of thing. My memory is terrible for all of the above, especially in the real world.


Hey Devs, can we have something like this for the real world? Sticking post-it notes to people's foreheads might get me a bloodied nose.

((Many many thankyou's indeed Lunk! I'll be available at any time following this post's entry, and will be in Pocket D on H&H when I log in.

My congrats to you for coming up with this idea, and more congrats to all the other participants. As for H&H; looks like he has some heroics to catch up on. See you all in-game))

Okay, so I’ve read the poster and practically spat tea through my nose at the offer. I should also try not to write out what I think when I think it, but then I just wouldn’t be me.

I’ll get to the point now though.

Dear KM-Tech.

I should get this grant because… Well, let’s begin where I began and then I can at least say I’ve begun. Because everyone needs to have a beginning otherwise they can’t even exist. So here goes.

My name’s Eric Hart. I was born in England, in the South-West to be roughly exact, in a small village about halfway between the towns of Bath and Bristol. I’d lived there all my life until very recently, leaving only when my mutant genes kicked in and blew my house apart – along with half the street. It happened as the dramatic result of a gas-oven explosion at breakfast, which had killed both my parents and almost me and my sisters.

They survived that blast because my body absorbed it before it got to them and I survived for that same reason. It was just a pity that part of my mutation is also that the heat I absorb is released with equal force unless I control it, which I hadn’t learned to do yet, obviously. It’s a hell of a way to find out you’re a mutant.

This would have been okay, as my parents had the good foresight to get the house and their lives insured against such things as a gas leak blowing the place apart, and as that was the original cause of the damage they all paid out. The trouble came from the half-dozen other houses that were destroyed too, and as my neighbours all made claims against my parents for the loss of their homes, the insurance money from our house and the policies on my parents all went on rebuilding other people’s homes.

I was left with enough money for a plane-ticket to a place where registered super-powered beings could make an actual life for themselves instead of being a tabloid newspaper article for the dangers on mutants and other super-people. I had to leave, by the way. Not just my village (the other residents there all signed a petition to get me evicted from my smouldering crater) but the country. You see; my local housing authority said that destruction of your own home accounts to voluntary homelessness, and also because my rather large and sudden inheritance had been spent inside of six weeks – regardless the fact that it went on rebuilding half my street - that I had deliberately deprived myself of capital in an effort to get benefits.

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought too to be honest. So, what can a reasonably bright kid with no school qualifications or next-of-kin willing to let you kip on their couch do, other than live rough and work in a fast-food restaurant until he can afford a cardboard box? That’s right! Move to Paragon City.

I had my backpack full of not much and a pocket full of loose change after the plane-fare and currency exchange. Plus a Visa-waiver and return ticket ready and waiting to take me home unless I could get a job and a flat and someone to sponsor me to live here more permanently.

Now to the crux of the matter; I now have a flat in King’s Row, that I can afford not because I’m a super-hero or whatever it is you call it here. I have a flat because I begged the landlord to let me have it if I got a job that day, got a sub on my wages, and paid a full month’s rent as deposit. So I did what any American kid would do without any high-school grades or rich parents would do if they wanted to eat: I applied for a job in Up-N-Away Burger! But it turns out it gets better still, as an Up-N-Away burger chef, even one who can flash-cook fifty half-pounder’s in three seconds, doesn’t earn very much. So I had to get a second job in Bianco’s Italian restaurant in Overbrook.

I now work both jobs for most of every day, meaning I haven’t even done all that much heroing, and since I work a total of eighteen hours a day saving my bosses a fortune in gas bills and getting minimum wage, I don’t get out much either. 'But why do you need the grant?' I hear you ask. Well, that deposit I paid is running out, and even with two jobs I can’t afford this months’ rent, and since I still haven’t got a sponsor I’ll be deported as an ‘alien’ back to ‘Blightly where I face sleeping rough in a country that thinks I brought this on myself. Great huh?

If you can find the compassion to give out the grants you mention in the posters I see on my bus-ride to and from my jobs every day, maybe you’ll read my astoundingly-implausible over-hyphenated but absolutely-true sob-story and send me a small slice of that compassion-cake. Then I can pay my rent, feed my cat, buy some non-fast-food to eat to stop me eating that cat in desperation for real meat, and stay in this city of heroes and actually do some heroics. Because frankly, I don’t want to be a chef for the rest of my life.

Yours sincerely,

Eric Hart, registered super-powered being alias: Hearth and Heart. (Because home is where your hearth and heart lay. (Hooray for poetry club.))

What about minimum teamsize, as an option for the creator, turning an arc into something slightly more like the Taskforce/Strikeforce minimum teamsizes?

This could reflect the danger of the big bad end boss, in that the player initiating it would likely need backup from worthy companions.

As for the programme itself, I am definately interested in it, if you were to make it.

The Hand of Battle rolled onto her side, grimacing in pain as she did so. She was lying on a bed in the Crown Memorial Hospital, having come in as one of the walking wounded from the latest Rikti invasion.

She'd responded to this latest attack after waking up on a couch in the Fourth Wall club, after falling asleep there the night before. When the Vanguard warning had jolted her out of a particularly pleasent dream involving Foraois Gadai, she'd groggily picked up her broadsword; The Light of Dawn, and jogged to the exit. She'd not changed into her combat gear as there wasn't time to get back to her apartment in the Maze. Instead she'd gone straight to the zone Vanguard had alerted her to and joined the dozen or so other heroes that were defending the monorail station there.

She coughed, wincing as her bruised ribs and abdomen protested the spasm, and rolled onto her back annoyingly uncomfortable and throughly frustrated. She'd been in the thick of the fighting outside as usual, Rikti conscripts swinging clumsy blows that she'd parried and dodged with nimble ease. Everything seemed to be going in her favour, right up until the Rikti Officer cadre had teleported in. She'd stared at them; the Priet, two Mesmerists, and a Chief Soldier unreadable behind their helmets and masks. Her fellow defenders had had their hands full fighting off the swarms of regular troops beaming in around them, so Hand of Battle had levelled her sword toward the chief, and asked him if he dared face the wielder of The Light of Dawn. He'd drawn his massive, glowing-edged blade at her challenge, understanding her intention if not fully her words.

They'd circled then, cagily measuring their opponent for signs of weakness, while the other officers watched the pair. After a few more seconds they'd stood still, and Hand had begun a silent count. When she'd reached four the Chief had lunged for her with a deceptively swift blow aimed for her midriff, but she'd brought her own blade down in an arc to intercept it. Blade rang against blade, the pulsating energy field of the alien's weapon sending sparks winnowing to either side as it recoiled from the blow. Hand watched it take a half step back before hauling its blade round to one side and down in an overhand swing aimed for her head. She'd taken a single half-step to her right and the blow had cracked the concrete inches from her left foot, at the same time her sword-arm brought her weapon back and around in a horizontal slash that rent a deep gash in the Chief Soldiers' breast-plate. Hand looked with some amount of pride as thick alien ichor seeped from the gap she'd made, but her pride was short-lived as the Mesmerists behind the Chief had raised their hands in unison, their minds lancing out to assail her own.

She'd reeled under the psychic assault, her mind fogged immediately by garbled words repeating themselves over and over again, taunts and disheartening promises and propagandic prose all fighting to overwhelm her senses, and the pain of it threatened to black her out. She managed to keep her eyes open through it all, though, and she saw just in time the Chief Soldier's sword as it glittered towards her face. She brought her blade up in time but the parry was clumsy, her senses thrown by the psionic bombardment. Their swords met, but her own was face on to the Rikti's and it had smashed into her face, stunning her and throwing her onto her back. Her grip loosened and The Light of Dawn skittered across the ground behind her. Her eye threatened to swell shut but she'd grit her teeth and willed it to stay open, rolling herself left as the Rikti's following blow tore another great gash from the concrete where she'd landed. She got her feet underneath her and used her momentum to spring towards the Rikti Chief, both hands balled into fists and pointed forwards in a lunge that caught the Rikti off-balance as it pulled its blade free of the ground.

Hand collided hard with the big Rikti, her weight and momentum driving it off its feet to stagger into the two Mesmerists still hammering at Hands' mind. They all fell together in a tangled heap not helped by their bulky armour, giving Hand the few precious seconds she needed to sight and recover her sword and turn back to her immediate foes. The Rikti Priest was standing right behind her when she'd turned, its hands glowing with arcane light. It lanced a bright beam of energy into her, and she'd immediately felt her body weaken, her strength sapped from her muscles. She'd hauled her sword round but the Rikti was too close, and it used its own blade to easily bat hers aside before plunging it deep into her chest in a riposte powered by its newly stolen strength. She'd coughed blood into the Rikti's face, her chest ablaze with the searing agony of the energy field around the alien weapon, and she'd passed out.

She'd woken up she knew not how long afterwards, the skies were once again their familiar blue haze, and she had found herself staring into the eager yet concerned faces of the other heroes she'd lost track of in the fight. One of them, a male she knew only from the voice that was muffled by his costume, had told her that reinforcements had come and the Rikti had retreated. He said that he'd patched her wounds, but lacked the ability to close them fully as he'd not mastered his powers yet. Hand had mumbled her thanks, and he'd put her arm over his shoulders and helped her limp to the hospital, where the doctors and healer-class supers had mended her shattered ribs and closed her gaping, cauterised wound. They'd said she'd arrived just in time, as the Rikti weapon had cut her medi-porter module in two and she'd almost bled out. Then the male hero; who's name she hadn't gotten, had headed out of the hospital to lend aid to the nezt zone under attack. Hand had let her head fall backward onto the bed with an inward curse. He'd sounded hot.

She still lay on that bed, having rolled over for the tenth or eleventh time, cursing the bruises that remained even with the medical staff's healing arts. She watched the door to her ward like a hawk, hoping to see some sign of the costumed hero who dragged her in here. Hours passed, and night fell without even a glimmer of the man. Hand checked the closest clock, and sighed. It looked like she'd be here all night.

((Don't batter yourself overmuch. I like the style etcetera, and the fact that there's just enough information there to get me hooked, which is quite difficult to do actually. Looking forwards to seeing more.))

*munches popcorn and cheers as the tank sails through the air*

I love what you've done so far, and look forward to seeing much more. It's also great to see Mission's name up in lights too, she's been proudly telling me about it often.

Will the comic blossom onwards? I want to see how it ends. *starts candle-lit vigil outside the Dr's door*

Drat. That's two night of RP I have missed due to not reading forums for more than two weeks, and I blasted-well WORK in the 4th as a barman (Laughing-cloud).

Curse my desire for gaming over foruming!

I'll try for Thursday. No promises.

Gratz Doc. I did wonder when you managed it, as I saw you floating about as a fifty. If you need help levelling a Fender, give me a shout if I'm out and about over the NHU OOC and I'll come running with some backup.

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No one cares about damage per endurance lol.

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I [i]do[i]. The sooner the mobs are defeated, the longer your endurance lasts into the next mob/mobs. Brutes aren't Tanks, so can't really soak damage to outlast their opponent. Brutes thrive by defeating foes quickly, and having a better Damage:Endurance ratio only aids this process.

((A very entertaining read, and has made my meagre efforts look all the more ameteurish but in a good sense. This story is the standard I now aspire to. Very well done Architect.))

Well, I didn't win, but I managed to enjoy it, even with the shoving and more shoving from inconsiderate gits who absolutely HAD to stand in front of someone else. And heal spam. And buff spam.

But, my mains' fancy costume in an Arabian Nights style did land me a place in the finals. So all good.

Be great to see another competition happen too, as the turnout was astounding. I counted over 160-odd people in Atlas at the height of the madness.

Pity I don't have four computers and accounts to go with them. My feet are an extra pair of hands, which I use often to open doors, pick things off of the floor, handle unsavoury things best not handled with the real pair etc. Ah well.. I'll try and make the competition.

((No problem old friend. Welcome to the forums))

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sheesh, and i thought taking 4 months was a long time

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24 months and counting. Grats though E.

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...The sweep combo and weaken are both aoe/cone I believe...

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The sweep combo finish is PBAoE, as per the finisher Typhoon's Edge. Damned fine combo too.

As a related aside, when I was testing DB following the level bump on test, I found that with the odd recharge in the primaries, it's possible to have a permanent chain of the Power up, Sweep, and Attack Vitals combinations ad infinitum. These three golden combo's really hammered most foes until my endurance ran out, and if the power up combo missed, then I could easily use Weaken instead.

((Wonderful idea Pious))

Paragon City Gazette, December 3rd. Page one.

Hand of Battle found guilty of unlawful killings!

The hero known as The Hand of Battle was today found guilty while absent of the unlawful deaths of thirty-two criminals, who died of their injuries during the hero's heavy-handed arrest methods of her early career. Upon her return to active duty following the Rikti Invasion fleet's majority repulsion, she was ordered by city officials to pay compensation to the families of the bereaved parties, a sum in the order of US$14,000,000.00

The Hand of Battle, also known as Isabelle Savage, who is a member of the heroic organisation The New Heroes Union, was reluctant to comment at length, saying only: "I am content with the judgement, and will repay the debt she owes without complaint or appeal. Justice must be served above all else especially those who dispense it." At which point she leapt into the air and vanished out of sight. She remains on active duty while serving her sentence in the employ of Freedom Corps. and the Vanguard. Some estimates say that the compensation sum may take her more than eight months to repay.

From my own experiences on test, DB burns end very quickly at higher levels due to fast recharging and fast activation of its attacks. It pairs very well with WP due to Quick Recovery, and better when you have Stamina slotted. I think it'd work well in groups and larger mobs with /elec due to the the End draining effects, but I don't have enough practical experience with the other sets to make a better judgement at this time.