Magnimoth

I absolutey am in love with this idea. I have it linked in my sig.

I think, personally, that it should be something you get to pick when you make your character, and that you gain certain abilities as you gain levels. For example, at 10, 20, 30, 40, and 50 (maybe fewer, say 10/30/50), you get the next level automatically. I don't think it should be a power pool choice, per say.

For example - A Lone wolf could receive:

Level 10 - "Unleash" - Being alone has it's advantages. Without needing to worry about team mates or collateral damage, you are able to unleash your full fury in combat - 3% damage buff.

Level 20 - Survival - Learning to endure without the aid of others is key. Because of your nature, you are better able to evade attacks while alone. 3% Defense buff to all but psionics.

Level 30 - Intuition - Without having to watch over team mates, you have learned the art of studying your enemy and finding his weakness. 1% boost to experience earned.

Level 40 - Rampage - When in danger, you sometimes have no one to rely on. When severely wounded, you unleash the beast inside of yourself and gain a 20% damage buff and 10% defense buff to all but psionics.

Level 50 - Pride of the Wolf - Your nature is known to many. Because of this, your confidence is intimidating. Gives a constant 2.5% accuracy debuff to enemies in melee range.

These are, of course, just rough numbers, probably overpowered. But I think a sort of "upgrading inherent" is just the kind of thing we need to make people give a flying fig about their origins and backstories, instead of just leaving their Bio information blank and not caring who their hero is, instead caring what is Archetype can do.

Hrm...I see your point. It would be annoying that since I solo most of the time, I pick Lone Wolf and do better there, but then I'm actually WEAKER in teams, where a lot of the best things are (Taskforces, Giant Monsters, etc). While I think balance needs to be taken into account, I think just lowering the bonuses a little might accomplish that goal.

Either way, I'd be happy with it, honestly. Maybe a tiny bonus that effects things over the entire life of your character, but definitely not to the point to where a Lone Wolf can solo an 8-man mission because he's by himself. Ya know?

/signed so hard my head just exploded

I like the idea of being able to choose from several different options. Even a generic option that has no bonuses or penalties. But I definitely think penalties are needed to balance this out.

Some of my ideas:

Lone Wolf
When by yourself, you have learned how to survive and be a better fighter without worrying about watching over your team-mates. You gain a 5% bonus to defense and attack damage. However, when teamed, you find your tactics lacking due to the new style of combat. Therefore, you receive a 5% penalty to defense and attack damage.

Things of that nature. Make it so youc an play normally (as we do now), or so you can customize. Students get more XP when sidekicked, but don't do as good when not SK'd. Mentors do better when SKing, but gain LESS XP when they have no one sidekicked because they aren't using the full extent of their abilities. They learn by teaching, as well.

I've also the idea for a "Tactician" kind of deal.

Tactician
You've learned what it's like to fight in a group, and even lead them. Because of this, you've gained a 5% bonus to defense and damage when teaming. However, when by yourself you often find yourself somewhat overwhelmed without support, taking a 5% drop in defense and damage.


I don't like the backstory missions idea, because it's simply not customizable enough. Could we ever really get specific enough to suit all characters? Hell, my main tanker's "lone wolf" mission would be spending 200 years wandering through Europe, not contacting any humans outside of feeding on their blood.

Doesn't seem very possible to be THAT all ecompassing.

Another idea for a background:

Sadomasochist
Due to your background, you have learned how to enjoy pain, as well as enjoy giving it. You gain a 10% bonus to damage dealt, but also suffer a 10% drop in defense due to your love of pain.

As we've all said, these numbers are just examples, balance issues would definitely have to be taken into account. But I personally love another aspect that will help my tanker be something other than "another SS/INV Scranker"

You could always say that he had to leave because the Sword drew him somewhere. Maybe he had to do something to strengthen the bond between himself and the sword? A lot depends on if the sword is sentient, if it contains a magic power and is bound to him, or if he has power by holding it, but to someone else it is useless (outside of having a sharp blade, that is).

Personally, I love people who have in depth and thought out backstories, so I'd love to see how yours turns out. I almost made a broadsword/super reflexes who was going to have a bond to his sword. Nice to see someone else has a mind that work ssomewhat similar to mine.

Possibly Ghost Widow wanted to take the sword for herself, to increase her own power, but found that severing you from the sword was impossible without killing you, and killing you would destroy the sword? While she was in the process of performing a VERY intricate ritual that would severe the sword from you by putting YOU in another dimension but yet leaving the sword in this one, you managed to banish her to the other dimension (or perhaps escape with yourself AND the sword at the same time - recalling it to your hand as she pushed you into the portal, perhaps?), and then escaped back into this dimension in a safe place.

Just a few thoughts.

Happy Birthday

Huddled around a cup of coffee, her shivering seemed to know no end. A blanket was draped over her shoulders, warming her slightly. They said she was in light shock. She didn't know or care about that. She didn't feel anything. He had delivered the news in the nicest way possible, softening the emotional blows, but it didn't matter. Nothing could have prepared her for this.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you?" The detective asked, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Do you know what I mean when I say-"

"Yes!" she shrieked, pushing his arm away and standing on wobbly legs. She started to fall, but Magnimoth steadied her with one big hand. He seemed to be the only one she could be civil with. "I understand! My parents are dead! What else is there to understand, officer?"

Magnimoth waved the detective and other officers away, and turned the girl to face him. "I know this is hard."

"How do you know this is hard? What do you know about pain?" Her eyes were streaming, red. Her mouth twisted in a grimace of pain. Suddenly, she fell to him, her head on her chest, her arms around him. After a moment's hesitation, his arms went around her, too, engulfing her. She whimpered into his chest (low on his chest, he kept being reminded of how small and vulnerable she was), and gently he asked, "Is there somewhere you can go? Family you can stay with?"

She shook her head, sniffling, trying to regain some manner of composure. "No one. They were my whole family. They were..."

She began to sob again, and Magnimoth held her again. A detective had dared to creep close enough to offer a suggestion. "We can put her in a state home, a good one, not one of those dumps-"

She started screaming. "No, no! I don't want to be pushed aside, forgotten, left with those other kids, they'll be just like them, just like them-"

Magnimoth hushed her, and wave the detective away again, an impatient look of anger on his face. A rather imposing look. The detectives didn't try and creep up again. He leaned down, and whispered to her, "You can stay with me.'

She looked up at him, surprised. "Really?"

He nodded. "You're nineteen years old, old enough to make your own decisions. You can't afford your own place yet, so it's either stay with me or go to an institution, and we both know you don't want-"

He was cut off as she leapt up and hugged him, her slender arms around his thick neck. Her could feel her scalding tears on his skin, and his arms went around her, comforting. She whispered in his ear, "Thank you so much."

At that moment, he knew what it meant to be a hero.

Casseia Afkel Edinborough
Aliases: None
DoB: September 10, 1987
Age: 20
Height: 5'0"
Weight: 120lbs
Abilities: Possesses the ability to rapidly raise and lower the temperature of the air around her, resulting in spontaneous combustion or freezing. Can utilize this to cause air pressure changes around herself, granting flight.
Origins: Mutant. Began manifesting powers at age 19. Further enhanced through training.

Appearances: To Be A Hero

Images:
Casseia in casual clothing
Casseia having a drink
Casseia in uniform
Casseia in a formal dress
Casseia in a formal dress #2

Personality: Easy going and somewhat relaxed, but she can be very argumenative. Assertive at times, and sometimes demure. Sometimes hides her emotions, although not from Magnimoth. Fiery temper, but calms down quickly. Staunchly defends her friends. Despises lying and will not tolerate dishonest people. Loves animals.

Biography: Born into an affluent family, Casseia Afkel heard of the crime of Paragon City, heard stories of people robbed on the streets and kidnapped for twisted experiments, but never expected it to happen to her. That all changed a month after her nineteenth birthday. Deep into the night, a group of Outcasts broke into her house, kidnapped her, and killed her parents. Dragging her down into a sewer, they beat her and tormented her, compelling her to join with them. "Recruitment" is what they called it.

Luckily, a hero named Magnimoth saw her being dragged into the sewer and came to her rescue, dispatching the Outcasts holding her and carrying her, bruised but alive, out of the sewer. After discovering her family had been killed, she had no one else to turn to. From that moment on, she had only Magnimoth to lean on.

He taught her many ways to harness her powers. Her drive for vengeance was great, and although the Outcasts that had killed her parents were either dead or in jail, she still felt a blood lust for all Outcasts. She vowed she put a stop to the kind of suffering she herself went through.

Despite their age difference and Magnimoth's supernatural nature as a Vampire, a relationship formed, and within a year they were married. Finally, she felt as though she was regaining a family after losing hers at the hands of the Outcasts. Her thirst for vengeance slacked somewhat, but was never really slaked.

Pain racked her mind and her body, nearly knocking her unconscious only to shoot her back into an all-too-alert stage yet again. One of the boys was holding his hands out in front of him, shooting great gouts of electricity into her body, making her muscles twitch and jerk, contracting so painfully tight that tears ran down her face. He lowered his hands, for a moment, something crossed her mind. She knew who they were and why they wanted her.

The Outcasts, a gang of outlaws, dope peddlers and thieves. Purse snatchers. Usually just kids her age, but Mutants. Mutants like her. Unbeknownst to her parents, she too carried the gene for mutation. A few weeks ago, she had been holding a glass of water, and noticed that no matter how long she held it, it was always ice cold. She was always comfortable, regardless of the temperature, and sometimes when her anger flared, wherever her hands rested would come away slightly charred. She had kept it a secret from everyone, even her own parents, but somehow the Outcasts had found out. Now they wanted her.

The burly man picked her up by her shirt collar, held her where her feet dangled off the ground. He brought his face close to hers, and for a terrifying second, she thought he was going to kiss her. Then he broke into a smile and said, "Ready to have some real fun?"

Before she could reply, he drove his forehead into her face. She saw a brief spray of blood, and then the shadows swelled into her vision once again.


*** *** ***


Magnimoth dropped yet another Outcast to the ground. He had taken out nearly two dozen of them so far, and all he knew was that some sort of "recruitment" was going on. One thing he knew for sure was that "recruitment" was not the proper word for what he had seen going on. He found a large, sealed door, made of old but still sturdy steel. He pressed his ear against the door, and heard the sounds of torture. A girl whimpering in pain, adolescent laughter, and then a loud thud.

The crimson edges of his vision threatened to take over. He didn't know what he would do if his rage overcame him at the wrong time. It had happened before. So much blood. He brought his hands to the seam in the middle of the door, driving his claws through the steel with little effort. He pulled and strained, flexing and bending and even breaking the steel to get in. He heard hurried shouts from behind the door, and with a final roar, he broke through.

He saw a few Outcasts running towards him, as well as one rather bulky one that released one of the girl's arms before turning towards Magnimoth. What happened next happened quickly, but in Magnimoth's adrenaline (and blood) fueled rage, it didn't happen fast enough.

He drove a fist into the face of the nearest Outcast charging at him, flinging his limp body and broken face into a nearby wall, which splintered with cracks. The next one was carrying a gun, and didn't hesitate to use it. Buckshot spread across Magnimoth's chest, barely penetrating his skin, and the load of the bullet was quickly pushed out of his healing flesh, ringing to the floor like tiny dying insects. Magnimoth got a hand around the stunned boy's neck, and flung him hard to the ground, driving awareness from his head. Finally he reached the stocky one, who smiled at him as strange excrescences of mottled brown rock seemingly sprouted from his body and covered his skin. He rushed at Magnimoth, no slower for being covered in stone, and slammed into his body hard. Magnimoth stumbled back a step or two, obviously not as far as the boy had expected. Magnimoth grabbed his arms, lifted his feet from the ground using his superior height, and rushed forward, both of them roaring in rage.

Magnimoth slammed him hard into the wall, pulled him back, slammed him again. The boy slipped a knee up, used it to push Magnimoth back. Swinging a right hook, he caught Magnimoth's jaw. Expecting bones cracking, staggering, he paused to see the damage. A mistake.

Magnimoth barely flinched, his head moving only slightly, and then he swung his own fist, hard and up, striking the boy squarely in the jaw. He went up and back, and Magnimoth leapt onto him, flinging himself at him, driving him down into the murky ankle-deep water and rapping his head hard against the floor of the sewer. Magnimoth wrapped one of his big hands under the boys chin, lifted him into the air, and unceremoniously broke his neck.

Magnimoth Alexander Edinborough
Aliases: None
DoB: October 14, 1486
Age: 621
Height: 6'7"
Weight: 240lbs
Abilities: Superhuman strength, resilience, agility, and senses. Can heal wounds at an astounding rate. Must feed on human blood to survive.
Origins: Born as a Mutant, and manifested superhuman strength in late teens. Embraced as a Vampire at twenty-nine, greatly increasing his powers.

Appearances: To Be A Hero

Images:
Magnimoth in leather armor
Magnimoth against a sunset
Magnimoth against a sunrise
Magnimoth opening a present
Magnimoth ready for battle

Personality: Taciturn around strangers, but warm with his friends. Has a great sense of humor, but can sometimes be very solemn. Great affection for Casseia, and any hostility to her is rewarded with anger and protectiveness by him. He is sometimes easily angered by petty issues, and his rages can become nearly volcanic furies that he is impossible to reason with during. Is generally very calm and relaxed, although his rages can erupt with surprising suddeness.

Biography: Born in the 1400's, Magnimoth lived in a small Italian village which rarely saw outside visitors. In his late teens, he began manifesting superhuman strength, which he kept quiet about. Due to his great height and strange habits, he was already seen as an outsider. However, fate forced his hand as a nearby valley was struck by an avalanche, trapping a dozen people under rocks and rubble.

Tossing them aside as though they weighed nothing, he quickly rescued the trapped people. One of them was his future wife, Marin. They married, and lived four happy, bliss-filled years despite the controversy caused by her rescue and his powers. On his twenty first birthday, however, things would change.

An ancient vampire named Atrius took an interest in the young man. Insane from traumas he had suffered in his two-millenia life, Atrius mistook Magnimoth for his own son, and vowed to make up for letting him die at the hands of Werewolves. Killing Marin and capturing Magnimoth, he promised to make him 'strong enough' to fight this time.

Magnimoth endured eight years of horrifying torture, always kept on the edge of life by Atrius feeding him tiny bits of his own Vampiric blood. Finally, on his twenty-ninth birthday, Atrius made him into a Vampire, giving him the curse of immortality. Combined with his superhuman strength, Magnimoth was able to kill Atrius, but the memories of Marin and of his lost humanity nearly drove him mad.

He wandered Europe for nearly two hundred years, blood-thirsty and heartless. Without Marin to live for, yet too afraid and confused to kill himself, he lived a shadow of a life, the life of a mindless predator. He met a fellow Vampire named Magnus, who showed him that the humanity inside of him was still there, and that living his life as a predator was not only an affront to his old life, but a disgrace to Marin as well. Magnimoth finally regained some of his old sense, and started his life anew.

Since then, Magnimoth has been living as a hero, although only recently as one of Paragon City's finest. Hearing of the discord and the return of the Rikti, he relocated to Rhode Island, where he met his future wife, Casseia, rescuing her from a forceful 'recruitment' by the Outcasts due to her own burgeoning Mutant powers. Since then his priorities in life have somewhat changed, although he can still be seen laying waste to the Rikti and even the lesser villains of Paragon City, always trying to atone for his past and slake his thirst for justice.

(OOC: Eep. I usually do that, but I copied/pasted this from my Word file. Thanks for pointing it out, though, I might not have noticed.)

From the ordinary comes the extraordinary. From the mundane, the strange.

Magnimoth had known this for years. Consider his life, he had no choice. It was either adapt to the unexpected, or throw himself into the same fire that had consumed his Maker. Here, in this modern day world, strange things were commonplace. Thieves running the streets, the police stretched to the limit. Murder, burglary, [censored], all so commonplace it made him sick with rage.

Perched precariously atop a building, Magnimoth first saw the strange sight as they dragged the girl into the sewer. Five men, followed by a much larger group. He could tell by their outfits what they were. Outcasts. A gang of mutants, petty thugs at best usually. They had recently began some grander schemes, and Magnimoth was worried about the repercussions of it. He had enough to worry about without dealing with teenage misanthropes with super powers.

The girl was young, no older than twenty, with raven black hair and delicate features. Magnimoth felt a pang of anger, the vulnerability of the girl stirring a rage in him that he knew all too well. He growled softly to himself, the animalistic side of his curse showing through in his fury. Talons clenched on the stone of the roof, making small cracks.

He had been one of Paragon City's "heroes" for nearly a year now, taking down villains and acting as a super-powered enforcer of the law. "Justice Incarnate", he had been dubbed once, by none other than the city's most famous hero, Statesman. He had seen heroes come and go, and in comparison to his unnaturally long life, this year had been short, a brief flash in the story of his life. Yet it seemed like the most important page or two of an immensely long book - gone in a flash, yet revealing more about the story than anything else in the pages.

He had seen heroes become jaded - emotionless almost, seemingly uncaring about their charges, but still duty-driven to help them. Not him. He still felt that fury, that wrath, that had driven him to his first act of heroism, and sealed his fate thereafter. The vulnerability and poignancy of the young girl's cries as she was dragged into the sewer lit an inferno inside of him. He leapt from atop the building, dropping nearly a hundred feet to the ground. He landed, unharmed, and walked to the sewer grate. It was locked.

With a clenched fist and a savage twist, he ripped the lock off, pulled open the gate, and plunged inside.


*** *** ***


When she came to, she was being dragged down an alley. Horrible fears erupted into her mind, fears she had never known before. Living in an affluent neighborhood had not granted her immunity from this terror, but from the expectation of it. She screamed and kicked, but a searing heat suddenly flared in her wrists, where the man dragging her had her held. Flames flared up around his hands, then died.

"Don't make me hurt you, pretty little thing." His voice was gruff and rough, but still young, still the voice of an adolescent. It was one of the scariest voices she had ever heard. She watched in horror as the sky faded to black, being drug into the sewers through disgusting muck and grime. They carried her deep through passages and across walkways, finally depositing her in front of a short, well-muscled teenager. He couldn't have been more than twenty. He wore a yellow baseball cap and shirt, with brown pants and shoes. His skin looked dry, like old sand.

He was smiling at her.

"Scared?"

She looked away from him. He laughed coldly.

"Good."

She felt his hand on her neck, and screamed.


*** *** ***


As he approached a bend, two of the Outcasts suddenly appeared, scowling at him. "Who are you?" One of them asked. Magnimoth ignored them, striding past as though they didn't exist.

The smaller one growled, despite Magnimoth's size advantage. He stood nearly six-foot-seven, taller than most, and was well muscled. The boy assumed his Mutant powers would be enough to guarantee him victory in a fight. His hand grabbed Magnimoth's arm, and he started to speak.

Before the words had left his mouth, Magnimoth spun with lightning speed, flung him into the wall hard enough to crack the stone and send a spider web fracture out from the point of impact. Turning on the second youth with a snarl, he slammed into him with his entire body, pinning him to the wall. Both of his enemies slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Magnimoth continued on. He heard a scream in the distance, a young girl scream, a scream filled with terror. A second scream pierced his ears, and this one echoed with the sounds of pain. Magnimoth broke into a run.

[ QUOTE ]
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*struts his /Fire Dominator with Firey Embrace through the thread teasingly*

And he wasn't wrong to call Devices Gadgets. That's just the internal developer nomenclature for the set. Kind of like what we call mobs they'll call critters.

[/ QUOTE ]
Yes, but if your going to talk to the public get it right. There is no /Gadgets secondary so it took awhile for community to get a confirmation he ment /Device. When the players ask for a buff to say /energy, they don't say "The pink pom poms of sissy-ness needs a boost" They call it /Energy, /NRG, /Eng. If I suggested /Device fixes, I don't call it "The /brokenthingmawhatwhoists" I call it by its proper name.

[/ QUOTE ]

Yeah, and now you're bantering semantics. There's a pretty big gap between jibbering nonsense to mean something and something as similar as "devices" and "gadgets". That's like not getting that by "Cold Blast" they meant "Ice blast."

[censored].

It's all about creativity and story writing, as Thunderbug said. For example:

"He tried to punch me, but I dodged it, and then I punched him, and he went through the wall."

As opposed to:

"He swung at me, but I dropped low, avoiding his fist as I brought my own up. I caught him in his jaw, hurting my hand, but hurting him far more. I felt the blow all the way up my arm as he sailed back, and up, through the wall of the Icon store. I leapt through after him."

Etc, etc.

Okay, enough examples. Just keep all of this in mind when roleplaying, and it'll all be good. Just remember, when it comes down to it, this is story telling at it's finest. So tell a good story!

About how long should "letters to the editor" and other things such as that be?