Ex_Libris

as a Role Player, I generally have a problem with the bio thing. People generally use the information in the bio to "know" you. Thats bad in my humble opinion. I like to slowly reveal the information about the characters through Role Play, similar to how you slowly learn information on the various enemy groups as you gain missions. So the more you play with my characters the more you learn of them and how they respond to various actions. Then again, thats just me.

Pinnacle Player,
Iona Davidson
The Legendary Death Lily
WildKat
Wild-side
Minako Yashida

etc...etc....etc...

"Allright lad, aim more carefully this time, remember the burst comes out of your palm." Trask said, adjusting a few settings on Nathan's wrist panel.

With a nod, Nathan adjusted his hand's position slightly, trying to utilize his optical implants like the professor had told him to. "Aim from the palm" he muttered to himself a second before he keyed the mental connection that controlled his weapons systems, sending a white hot blast of energy straight through the center of the bullseye a few hundred feet away.

"Excellent shot!" the scientist said, slapping Nathan's armored shoulder with a broad grin. "Yer doin fine lad, and its good to see that those muscle enhancements are working properly."

"Yea..." Nathan replied, looking down at his brand new armored hands. "...the neural and optical implants help alot, im not quite sure if id be able to hit that target from here without them."

"Thats enough for now Nate, your targetting systems seem to be well calibrated. Ive got a few errands i need you to run for me allright?" Trask said, handing Nathan a large bag full of used robot parts and a peice of paper with an address written on it. "Deliver those to this address, ive got a bunch of systems i need to tune before i install them into your body armor. Youre pretty much operational at this point but you lack the finer things."

With a nod, Nathan walked out the door into the daylight.

"Maybe this wont be so bad after all." He thought to himself, looking down at the weapons ports on his palms before running off in the direction of the address the professor had given him.

~~~~~

"Hey Prof! Im back, delivered those things you asked me to..." Nathan said, trailing off as he entered the lab. "Oh no... Professor Trask?!" He shouted, looking around at the destroyed equipment around him. "What in the hell happened? Professor?!"

The laboratory he had begun to see as his new home was in shambles, tables overturned, equipment smashed, screens shattered, papers scattered everywhere...
As Nathan searched through the wreckage a faint moan reached his newly enhanced ears.

"Professor? Is that you?" Nathan said, running over to a large pile of wrecked equipment. It took a few minutes but Nathan finally managed to pull Trask's crushed body from underneath the mess. "Prof, what happened? Who did this?" He asked.

"Skulls... they... everything broken except..." Trask managed to wheeze. "...except the... new enhancements, in the safe... heres the key"

With the last of his strength, Donovan Trask held up a small silver key, placing it in Nathan's large plastisteel hand before closing his eyes for the last time.

After Nathan finished cleaning up the lab and the coroners had arrived, dutifully taking the professor's body to the morgue, he walked over to the wall safe and used the small key Trask had given him before dying. In the safe he found all the specialized systems that Trask had not yet installed into his body, including the teleportation, shielding and healing enhancements.

"Thanks Donovan..." Nathan said, bowing his head. "Ill put these to good use, count on it."

(( Please note that this thread will cover Nathan's backstory but i would like to openly encourage anyone who wants to jump in and add something of their own to do so. Please try to keep it strictly in character though, ooc in parentheses if need be ))


"We're all going to die!!" a terrified voice yelled into the smokey air, somehow managing to carry over the frightened buzz of the crowd rushing through the streets.
Nathan Malus was just another face in that crowd, just another frightened office worker who had managed to get clear of the building he had been employed in for the past two years seconds before it began to collapse in on itself, killing those unfortunate souls still trapped inside. Now, as he rushed blindly through the throng milling about in the streets of what would soon be known only as The Faultline, Nathan tried to ignore the small voice in the back of his mind that kept telling him to find someplace safe to hide until the explosions stopped.
The crowd was frenzied at that point, trampling those that fell underfoot as thousands tried to find some way out of the hell happening around them. Nathan managed to avoid being crushed by a large granite gargoyle, which must have been dislodged from a building nearby, as it crashed down a few feet away, silencing a few voices in the process.

"What the hell is going on..." Nathan muttered, looking up at the sky. There was nothing to be seen but smoke and the occasional flash of something metallic streaking by overhead. He returned his attention to the crowd at the same moment that the building beside him exploded in a flash of green light, and he knew no more.

~~~~~

Fevered dreams that seemed to last an eternity were all that Nathan could see. Faces drifting in and out of his unconcious thoughts, some very familiar and some not, but he eventually woke, to a smiling old man looking down at him.

"Ah, good, optical implants seem to be working" the man said, nodding slowly.

Nathan tried instinctively to sit up, but failed. It was as if his mind and body were no longer attached. "Am i paralyzed?" he thought to himself before his eyes shut again and he fell into his dreams once more.
When he came to a second time, he found the same gnarled old face looking down at him. "You remember anything about what happened to you boy?" it asked, raising a fuzzy white eyebrow.

"Wh... Who are you old man?" Nathan said, looking around as best he could. It was apparent that he couldnt move his head, only his eyes and his voice sounded very different from what he remembered of it. "My voice, what the hell happened to my voice? Where am i?"

"Ah yes" the old man said, grinning. "Well, to answer your questions... Youre in my laboratory, my name is Donovan Trask and your voice is different because half of your vocal cords were damaged in the explosion with the rest of your body, i replaced them."

"Replaced them?!" Nathan said incredulously. "What the hell happened?! What explosion?"

"You wouldnt remember it of course, but awhile back a bunch of aliens who call themselves the Rikti destroyed a few areas of Paragon City, you had the misfortune to be in one of them at the time... Im afraid you were caught in a rather nasty explosion my young friend, most of your body was damaged so severely that the people at the hospital beleived you would be dead in a matter of hours." Trask said, scratching his balding scalp with a long wrinkled finger. "Surprised all of em is what you did lad, kept hanging on in a coma for weeks. They were going to pull the plug on you when you showed no signs of improvement but i managed to convince them to let me try my hand at saving you, and it looks like i succeeded."

"...how? What have you done to me?" Nathan said, his mind trying to process the incredible things he had just been told.

"Well lad, to put it very simply, im rebuilding what was left. Ever see the six million dollar man?" the old man asked, grinning. "We can rebuild him, we have the technology! Make him faster, stronger, better than before!"

For a moment, Trask seemed caught up in the hilarity of his own joke, laughing hysterically while Nathan watched, still trying to wrap his mind around what he had been told.

"Heheh, but anyways, thats what im doing kid, im making you more than you were before. I guess you can be called a cyborg now, even though im not near being finished. Still have lots to do you know, only just completed the optical and neural implants and lemme tell ya, those are bloody hard to tune properly." the scientist said, furrowing his wrinkled brow. "Anyways, ill just put you back to sleep while i finish the rest, next time you wake you'll be a brand new man, i assure you."

Nathan blinked a few times, watching as the old man leaned over, reaching for a small keyboard attached to a large LCD monitor.

"Oh! Before i forget..." he said, turning back to look down at Nathan. "Whats your name? Remember that at all?"

"Nathan... Nathan Malus. Thats my name..."

"Well Nate, have a good rest, youve been through more than anyone should have to endure in one lifetime. Ill wake you up soon."

And with that, the old man tapped a few keys, sending Nathan back into his dreams.

The moon, after being replaced 5000 miles from its original spot, files law suit against gravitomiton, who loses everything. He dies a poor man's death, in a pool of his own fluids.

It seemed like days since she had last seen the sky. Living down in the vast network of sewer tunnels, she longed to see the red sky and yellow sun of her home. T'rakus...the world she had known since she was born, seemed so far away; far more in her heart then in the true distance.

She brushed a loose hair from the crest of red hair over her green skin, looking around with glowing luminescent eyes at the cold steel and grungy masonry that she had grown so accustomed these past few months. The sickening green water that poured from the various pipes gushed the fresh fragrance of methane, a vapor noxious to all but her people.

She was Ky'r'ri, a proud race that lived in peace. They were not a warrior race or sought war, yet it seems that war came regardless. The Rikti had bombarded her planet from far above the skies of T'rakus, like cowards. She was abducted by the Rikti, imprisioned and forced to watch her world become a desolate wasteland. Why she was spared, she would never know: perhaps the Rikti wanted a member of the Royal house of the Ky'r'ri to amuse themselves with, or to show other races the price of their stiffnecked resistance to the Rikti's rule. Whatever the reason, she became the prisoner of a race that wiped out her homeworld in a matter of hours, and left her to brood in misery.

Who would have thought that only a few months the Rikti invading force would reemerge in a new system, a blue green water planet that the Rikti seemed quite eager to acquire. A planet known as Gaia, or Earth.

She watched as the ship she was in entered the planet's atmosphere, focusing its attentions on a particular city. Then the unthinkable happened.

Something hit the ship...hard.

With her personal force field on, she took the hammering attacks of the ship in stride, feeling both fearful and excited at the same time. Something was attacking the Rikti..and they were winning. She looked out the window, watching to see what ship these Gaians had that could tear into a battle ship and render it helpless.

It was not a ship at all, but several beings, flying as if they commanded the wind itself to carry them. They struck at the ship and the drones that came from it as if they were V'thra wheat. Some of them hurled lighting from their hands while others blew bitter cold and fiery heat upon the Rikti attack ships.

She wanted to cheer, but her fear took hold of her as she felt the mothership groan with twisted metal and crunching bulkheads. Soon she felt inertia pull her off the floor...the ship was falling...plummeting to the planet below. Her hearts beated wildly inside her, using every ounce of will to keep her energy shield at its fullest. She prayed to her God, T'raka...if it is his will that she may die, let her die quick...if it is his will to let her live...let her live and fight the Rikti another day.

An explosion. Thunder. Her ears covered in her hands as the roar of the ship deafened around her. She could hold onto consciousness no longer...blackness surrounded her...

...

T'raka only knows how she managed to surive the twisted wreckage of the mothership's crash. Her field had shut off the moment she lost consciousness, and only the hand of T'raka could have possibly spared her a painful demise. She emerged from the wreckage, only to gasp painfully...the air was not methane! She struggled back into the cabin, pulling the portable breather she had been given. The breather would help extract the proper chemicals that she needed to breath to survive. She blinked as she stared up at the sky, wondering what color it was...Blue? And the sun...a familiar yellow.

She scrambled from the wreckage, looking around at what looked like part of the Gaian city, giant stone and metal buildings hewn in half like timber, Smoke and fires burned hotly around, while the sound of death was all around.

Scavanging what she could from the ship, she found her way in secret, hiding where she could to avoid anyone seeing her. She did not know if the Gaians would think she was a Rikti, and she was not prepared to face against anything that could rip a Rikti battle ship with its bare hands.

She found her way into the sewers, smelling the familar acid scent of methane. Although it was dingy and filthy, the atmosphere here was far more breathable then up there. Here she would make a new home. With what rations she could take, she huddled into an old unused pipe, and cried herself to sleep.

That was months ago, and she had explored the underground tunnels all that time, dodging the denizens of the sewers to avoid a confrontation. It was clear to her by seeing the freakish monsters that dwelled under their cities how the Gaians were so strong. Still, she knew she could not stay underground forever; the dwellers here were growing more agitated and seemed to know that she was there somewhere...it was only a matter of time before they found her...and T'raka only knows what they would have done to her.

She looked up at the rusted iron grate of the exit, the thick scent of filth and methane both assaulting and energizing her at the same time. It had to be done...sooner or later, she must confront the Gaians. She must try to reason with them, beg for sanctuary, even if she must be enslaved again. All this, for a chance at revenge.

And what about her status? She was a princess, a member of the Royal Family that all Ky'r'ri respected and admired. What would that say to the humans above? She concluded it would be best to forget ever being royalty for now...she was in no position to play politics with Titans such as these.

Finally, with her hands trembling, her long green fingers reached out, to open the grate, and step out into the world of the Gaians...T'raka watch over her...


More information can be found at This link.

Both Rott and Gravitomiton are killed by the Kill Thread Sentry Gun (tm), for violating one of the most important rules (they didn't kill anyone in their posts.) Immortal prances like a small school girl. Needless to say, somewhere in asia an old man dies.

is this only on the virtue server, because i play on victory and would love to join, not only am i magic origin, but my roleplay stroy has alot to do with the COT's.

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I'd like to know one thing:

I usualy use turnleft and turnright instead of left and right.



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Ok, the point of Speed on Demand is to turn Sprint, Fly etc when you MOVE. The turn functions are not movement commands, so are not involved in these binds. The left and right functions are strafe, so configure those keys in my binds for your desired keys. If you don't use them at all and don't want them to get in the way, bind them to some strange key combo such as ralt+p Now, you'll have to manually rebind your TURN keys to +turnleft and +turnright, but they should work without any problems with the binds.

Hope that helps,

Gnarly

Immortal respawns in a flash of purple mist. He looks irritated.
"This is a complete rip-off. In the REAL kill-thread, it was a white flash. Purple mist? Come on, be original."
Immortal suddenly notices a newcomer make like a lawn-mower on 'Y'. He smiles.
"Good."
Immortal then aquires a mosquito zapper, three toasters, two teen pop idols, a baker's dozen of grenades, yarn, various hair care products, two batteries from seperate manufacturers, a pair of left-handed michael jackson gloves, and a sharpened dull piece of scrap metal. He uses these materials in various ways to kill Rott. Three times.

Hey Sinabyss all I can say is GREAT WORK!! But the only problem I have is that I am a lefty and I use the arrow keys instead of WASD what do I need to do to change the file so it works with those keys??? Thanks again!!

Ahz, did you get my file and how is it working? It seems that I cannot toggle from run to fly while running diagonally after the changes but there are some pros to the bind.

It does not mess up after porting to another area.
When immobalized while flying, the bind will still bring you to the fly mode after the immobalize is gone.

Hmmm...

Ok, Oaken Filipino, here are some things to try, but I'm a bit befuddled too. Try cut and pasting the forward line (just the one line is enough) of your R.txt file, in your R subfolder into your reply. It should have 2 powexec_name calls to sprint, and 2 to Super Speed, with the Super Speed ones being 2nd.

Also, maybe do a /bind_save from the game, then look at the keybinds.txt file and make sure that line is the same as the one above from the R.txt file... if not hit control-R until you 'Tell' yourself that you're in Speed on Demand Mode.

Once we take a look at the binds that the program is making, we'll be able to tell why it's not working.

Gnarly

And now, as promised:

The 2nd installment

My first year at PCU was rather uneventful. I started out as an undeclared major, taking just general ed classes. I was still hoping to major in some sort of science field, so, while searching for a job, I came to an opening in the Paragon City University particle accelerator lab. For those of you who don’t know what that is, let me give you a quick description. A particle accelerator is essentially a machine which takes a couple of different atoms, spins them around really fast, and smashes them together, once in a while forming a completely different element. A few new ones have been discovered by this process. Just look at your everyday periodic table of element. Yes, it is a whole lot complicated than that, and yes, I’m know there are those who can explain it much better, but I don’t think you need to know much other about what it does.

Anyways, I got a job there as a very, very low level assistant. More like a gopher. I was just running all over the lab, giving clipboards to researchers, and occasionally emptying the trash. I know, not that glamorous, but hey, a job’s a job, and I was glad to have one. The lab was where I also met a very good friend of mine (well, very good friend of mine for a short while), Rob. Rob was a very quirky guy, had some odd characteristics, but some of it matched with mine. Dry sense of humor, very sarcastic. Yeah, I guess he was a nerd, but its hard not to find someone like that in a science lab. We hung out every now and then, and no, nothing romantic happened. One thing did bother me about him though. I discovered it while eating pizza in my room, watching the news one night.

There was some story about about how some hero busted a local drug ring. Rob just started at the screen, and then shut it off.
“Hey, I was watching that!” I said.
Rob just shrugged, and went back to eating pizza.
“What?”
Rob said nothing.
I reached for the remote, but Rob pushed it away.
“I just… hate it.” Rob said in a very low voice.
“What, the news?” I asked.
“No!” Rob exploded. “The heroes! I hate them!”
I tilted my head to the side.
“Oh, and why is that?” I started at him.
“Don’t tell me they don’t bother you. They’re just… different. They’re not like you and I. They,” Rob pointed at the blank TV screen, “are different. They’re not human.”
“Dude, don’t be an ***.” I smirked at him.
Rob shrugged, got up and left. I didn’t talk to him for the next week. Eventually we returned to being friends, but there was always this weirdness.

Entering my second year of college, I was still undeclared, and still working at the lab, my role there not having changed much. Oh, yes, I was now in charge of getting coffee. That was new. And oh boy, those guys did not like it when you messed up their orders. Still, everything was going dandy. Then the Ritiki came.

[ QUOTE ]
RSRobinson wrote:

Fifth_Element, first you claim that electricity just has this
stun effect. I show it doesn't. Oh wait, you say, now you have to
be high level and have particular enhancements slotted. Funny how you didn't mention that before. At first, electricity's shake was a stun. Oh wait, now in fact it is something else that is the
stun.

...

You seem reluctant to tell us what is going on. Assuming that you are not just a big fat liar, the only alternative I can see is
that you've found some bug, you want to use it, and desparately
don't want anyone to find out because you know it will be fixed.
If this is a real, intended effect of electricity, then you
should have absolutely no qualms about just telling us exactly
how it is done. You are afraid the masses will assimilate? No it
sounds like you are afraid the developers will fix some exploit
bug you've stumbled across. Of course, since you won't tell us
how to make this happen, it is still more likely it is all a lie.

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Someone call Webster. Quoted above is the definition of someone getting owned.

Hey buddy, thanks to you, I had to reroll my lvl 17 POS to make an AR/Dev blaster. Oh, by the way, so did the rest of my entire supergroup.

I hope you're happy...
*goes back to Power Leveling

Immortal, realising that this thread is a fresh start, decides to recycle some of his old kills.

A rogue steamroller enters the thread, killing everyone inside.

The White Circle is recruiting (again)!

After a month-long dormancy, and a month of getting back on our feet....we're back!

We're a close-knit group of pretty regular gamers...and we're looking to expand our family!

Go to this thread to check us out!

Lobe scratches his head, "Uhh, wait a minute. You saying that the 5th Column run the subways? Jeesh, no wonder they have such neat weapons! They are getting rich off of everyone paying for the subway. Boy! Lobe not take the subway anymore, nope." He shoves his hands into his pockets, accenting the finality of his proclimation.

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I just randomly sampled files in each directory and the first line was not bound to a key in each file.

Again, not a major problem. It works great.

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Hmm... that's the UP bind. Did you rebind up, or choose a default? Do you USE up? If you don't have a key there, I'd be surprised if it DID actually work. Hitting enter should give you "space", the default. So not sure why/how you'd get that. Try running the bind program again, perhaps? If it ends up the same, try actually typing in SPACE (caps not required). Might have been a strange glitch, as it doesn't happen for me, and if people can't jump or go up, I'm sure I would have heard of it.

Edit: thought this right after I hit submit... maybe you can still jump, because without a key, you might not have overwritten your normal +up command bound to the spacebar. If you have Fly, do you switch to fly when pressing up only? You can /bind_save to see how your keys are actually bound.


Oaken, well, if you did that, then it just might not work for Super Speed. Greyhawke, it works for you with SS? How did you configure it? Does Super Speed have a recharge time that might interfere with things?

Gnarly

The strangest thing I have ever heard was having a villian shout out a different hero's name, e.g. Everyone kill Pojo Potatoe! even though he was not on that mission. What was really freaky was that a couple of hours later I met that hero for the 1st time.

A strange wind blows through the pub, and a few drinks get knocked over as a strange man...an extremely strange man... suddenly appears at the bar, as if he had been there all along, a trail of energy slowly fading from the doors to his seat. His clothing resembles something a child would wear while playing dress-up...but less sophisticated. And more needless. His cape made from a morning robe with the sleeves tied around his neck, and his gloves actually socks with holes in them, he is none other than...

The Mr. Extreme! Formerly known as Extremely Strange Man, The Mr. Extreme found difficulties registering as a Hero when his name was far too long. Mr. Extreme was taken, so the clever hero added 'The' to the beginning of it. All grammatical errors aside, The Mr. Extreme possesses super strength, invulerability, and inhuman speed. All that paired with his...oddness...and his ability to get into the worse possible situations makes him one of the most harmless (and at the same time most dangerous) heroes in Paragon City. Usually the inept protector of the innocent finds himself in the bar The Drunken Gargoyle, but since it was temporarily closed down he's had to make due with the city's vast population of lesser establishments. He sits at the bar, looking around solemnly. This is hard to take seriously, considering his outfit. He brushes a hand through his imaginary hair (he's quite bald), and looks to the Bartender.
" 'Scuz me, good sir. I'd like one of those drinks with the umbrellas in em. And peanuts."
The bartender pauses, looking at him strangely, shrugs and walks off. Extreme looks around, confused.
"Oh, and Bartender?"
The man turns around.
"Where's your alligator?"

I like how a lot of the NPCs have names that don't match their ethnicity. Like white guys name Juan and Elian and stuff.

Immortal walks into the thread, looking the place over critically. The entire place is spotless and shiny, not a single blood stain. Immortal scowls.
"It'll take some getting used to."
He looks over at the thread creator, standing in the center of the thread, the corpse of a bug just behind him. Immortal chuckles.
"I'll give you credit for the effort. But it just isn't the same. Of course, a little re-decorating could fix that."
Immortal, with lightning-speed, takes out his sniper rifle and shoots YFNDBA cleanly in the forehead, effectively 'decorating' his surroundings. Immortal smiles.
"Looks more like home already."

Well I won't pretend to be the greatest writer in the world, but I know what it's like to be stuck at the beginning of a story. I don't know anything about his origin, but perhaps it could start something like this?

When Elan was born, his parents were your average people. They lived in an average house, and they had average jobs. And when their son was born, they were expecting an average little boy. But that's not what they got. At an early age, Elan started showing signs of...

bla bla bla. I'm not sure exactly what you meant by intro, but hopefully that helps?

Danny scratches his head, sorting out all the information that has been dumped on him and the others. He gives the small girl one more glance before turning to this man who suddenly has all the information.
"So...what you're saying is (and correct me if I'm wrong)...the 5th Collumn, a group of super-powered facists straight out of World War II, has a steadily rising amount of access to the entire city via subway lines that our city officials never thought to disable. These subway lines are still being cleared out, and we know where they're working on it. If we go to stop them, we'll fall into a deadly trap with little chance of escape. But if we don't, the city's screwed, and they'll probably hunt us down anyway. Either way we're in tremendous danger, and the fate of Paragon is in our hands."
Danny Fyre pauses, knocking a piece of hair out of his eyes. He grins, leaning back against a wall.
"I think I'm starting to like hanging out with you guys."