Mr_Grey

I'm also running an NVidia card (9800GT). I was experiencing about a crash per night and figured I would look into the thought that maybe it's my machine, and not the game.

I downloaded the latest drivers, 260.99, and now I can't even log into the game. The game freezes on me before I can even log in.

Safe Mode works fine, but the moment I touch the Full Screen Anti Aliasing or the Occlusion settings, it locks up again.

No idea if that helps anything. I've submitted my issue to the tech support team and have informed them of the issues on my end along with a DXDiag with the hopes that a solution can be found promptly.

Sooner, your prose is like poetry.

The Information Terminals throughout CoH are blank. They used to be a way of seeing which players had done what throughout the server (or the game, I never was too interested to find out 100%), but after a while they broke and that statistic finder was scrapped out of them. Now they're just blank, with nothing to display.

The CoH tutorial points out that if a player needs help understanding what to do, they can turn to the information terminals for help.

How about they do that now? I know we can press "H" on our keyboard for a Help Menu, but would it really be so wrong to load the Help Menu into the Information Terminals, too?

I would just like to see something done with them, because as they stand now, they just seem like an eyesore to me.

Added a new chapter to Grey's Army: Back in Action.

“Thank you, Janus. This detour will be much appreciated.”

Daniel handed the smuggler his money, a briefcase filled with two thousand dollars in United States currency. It was all that was left of his savings, the last shreds of his life as an operative of Arachnos, save his armor, weapons, and the two Disruptor robots he was still somehow able to access, summon and command.

Three weeks. It took three weeks to learn the location at which they were keeping the beast of a man known as Power Breaker. He and Shadeheart had pressed every information broker and agent in the know throughout the Isles for anything they could learn about strange cargo shipments, prisoner transfers or clandestine operations. They avoided asking the enigmatic Exterminator Null or Arbiter Sands for what they knew; Sands because his information would come at a price, Null because they didn’t know what his reaction would be.

Eventually they had found a facility, an offshore rig that had once been a major operation for the Sky Raiders (and Nemesis, Taylor guessed). The facility had been blasted about a year ago, taking two powerful vessels along with it. Without them, the Sky Raiders couldn’t extend their control over the Atlantic and were reduced to their pirate and mercenary ways again.

The facility had become an irradiated hulk, unusable and uninhabitable for a little over a year. Once the radiation levels receded to a level that could be considered “safe,” Operative Grillo requisitioned some exploration squads to investigate the site. Onboard, the squads ran into a large family of Coralax that were trying to convert the facility into a lair and possible outpost for their twisted species. The resulting battle only lasted a few hours as the Fliers strafed the facility and teleported troops onto the landing platforms. Once the last of the Coralax had been killed or forced to retreat into the depths of the Atlantic, Grillo sent in teams to secure whatever technology could be recovered.

Afterward, the site was left to Black Scorpion to deal with. He did what he did best: cruelty. He turned it into a station with the express purpose of detaining, torturing and executing prisoners of Arachnos. He secured the most brutal members of Arachnos and made them the guards and wardens of the facility. Inside, they subjected their prisoners to abuses not seen or heard of since the days of the Inquisition, and even a few more that were available with the advent of modern technology.

He called it the Funhouse.

“I won’t be able to bring you anywhere within sight of the place,” Janus explained, “But I’m sure you and your lady friend will be able to sneak in on a small boat. I’ll give you enough gas to get there and back out to where I leave you… I’ll wait for three days. Should be all the time people like you need.”

Daniel agreed and told Candace the situation. She nodded impassively and resumed her preparations for the fight to come. He didn’t know how he felt about her when she got like this. She wasn’t the woman he’d fallen in love with anymore, she was just the assassin Arachnos had trained her to be. She would pull herself out of it later, but it was still an unsettling thing to see; that a person could be such an ice-hearted monster one moment and a warm, emotional flower the next.

“You’re not different from me, Daniel,” she said calmly as she measured out a rope, “You yourself have done much that people would consider ‘cold’ or ‘evil.’ One such thing is what’s got us in this situation in the first place.”

“I believed I was working toward a greater goal,” the former operative replied, ignoring the fact that she’d once again looked into his mind, “There was always emotion involved for me. It wasn’t until I had to see what was going on again, with fresh eyes, outside the ‘protective’ influence of Arachnos that I learned of my folly. I’ve never been able to separate my emotion from my work like you can.”

“That should annoy me,” Candace’s mouth quirked in a light smile, “But I think it’s your passion for your work, and the fact that your passion is what led you down this path, your path, that bonded me to you.”

She looked up at him, a single tear escaping her eye.

“The things I’ve been trained to do, Daniel... The things I have done… I wish… I wish I’d kept that piece of my heart in what I do, like you did…”

He knelt down to hug her and she embraced him. Huddled like that, they comforted each other. Together, they knew they could withstand the onslaught of their shared destiny. Arachnos would send forces against them, to punish them for their treachery, but they would be ready for it. They would face this new path, they would endure, they would survive, and they would thrive.

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Agent Wild walked down the concrete corridors of the base, wondering why he’d been called in for this. A Ballista, codenamed “Thunderclap,” had led a charge against Grandville. He had falsified documents, forged signatures, and otherwise acquired troops for the charge with the intent of forcing a confrontation between Longbow and Arachnos.

It had ended in spectacular failure. Three platoons of Longbow soldiers were now either dead or in critical condition. Only this man was in any condition to talk, and that was still only just barely. For some reason that Tyler still couldn’t fathom, he was the one assigned to commence the interrogation.

“Hello, Agent,” a female Spec-Ops soldier said as he approached.

“Hello, Agent Keller,” he replied, “It’s good to see you.”

“You remember me, sir?” she asked in surprise, “I thought… I don’t know. I thought you would forget about me…”

“You’re one of the best agents I’ve ever known. How could I forget you?”

She made a surprised noise, and was about to resume the conversation when the door opened. A Warden named Jones approached them and shook Tyler’s hand.

“It’s good you’re here, sir. I’m sure you’re wondering why you were requested…”

“Yes…” Wild arched an eyebrow, “I’m a field agent, not an interrogator.”

“Well, Thunderclap seems to believe you and he have worked together before. He said he would only trust talking to you, not the rest of us ‘bureaucrats.’”

Tyler turned to Agent Keller and shrugged. She did similar and resumed her post as a guard at the side of the door.

“Alright, I’m ready to see him…” the field agent said as he walked into the room.

Ballista Thunderclap sat at the table, his wrists in technologically advanced manacles designed to sap the energy from his body. Thus held, he couldn’t access the plethora of abilities that made Ballistae the powerhouses that put Longbow barely ahead of the game when it came to the conflict with Arachnos. He kept his face down and hidden in the shadow of his head and torso. Considering his condition, it was understandable.

“You told your captors we know each other,” Wild said as he walked to the table, “Mind telling me how that is? I think I would remember making an impression on a Ballista.”

“You talked me into re-upping,” the big man’s deep voice rumbled between sobbing gasps, “Not by selling me on some ideal, but by showing me the opportunity I had, personally, to make a difference…”

“Ah, shoot…” the smaller man sighed as he sat down in the chair opposite Thunderclap, “Agent… Holcomb. You’re the only guy I ever processed that had the potential for the Ballista Program.”

“You were the first person to tell me that,” Holcomb looked up to Tyler and the smaller man could now clearly see the bigger’s face, “I think my superiors really were trying to hold me back…”

His face looked like the surface of some blasted planet. Scars and pock-marks were torn into his flesh and he was barely recognizable as human anymore. His left eye was missing, covered now with a patch, and his right ear had holes in it. What was worse was the look in his eye. It reflected the damage done to his psyche. He was exhausted, broken and defeated. Even if he were to endure his punishment under the articles and codes of law that Freedom Corps worked under and continue his career, he wouldn’t be able to function in anywhere near the same capacity.

“A lot of those men and women have left Freedom Corps…” Tyler said, trying to keep the big man’s gaze, “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“I’m not fighting it, Agent Wild,” Thunderclap sighed, “The evidence they’ve got against me and my unit, it’s true. I’ll take responsibility for it all, I told my men and women what to do and they thought it was all a training operation… At first… But when things started getting real and they started to suspect what was happening, everybody was already caught up in it and there was no turning back.”

“Somebody turned back…”

“That’s beside the point, and… Frankly, whoever that was probably saved our lives… What a joke… Saved by betrayal…”

“What happened over there?” the agent resumed the interrogation, “What happened to you?”

Thunderclap nodded, took a few deep breaths, and proceeded to relate his tale.

“I led four platoons onto the beach of Grandville...”

They met resistance in the form of a single platoon of Crab Spiders and Spiderbots, led by Black Scorpion, Silver Mantis, and a nameless Crab Spider at their side. Oddly, the commanding villains stood away from the battle, but their presence kept the assaulting heroes from even beginning the attack.

Black Scorpion and Thunderclap met between the two armies and discussed the terms of the battle. The big villain was amused by the efforts of the obsessed hero, though he’d already learned of the planned assault long before it was ready. He reminded the Ballista that even the last major push into the Rogue Isles had been led by none other than Statesman himself, and even that was repelled.

He offered an ultimatum. A duel. His best versus Thunderclap’s best. The Ballista agreed and offered up himself as his army’s champion. Black Scorpion put forth the Crab Spider who had stood beside him and Silver Mantis.

He wasn’t like most others. His armor was painted as dark as night. This wasn’t done for any tactical reason, though, as the armor was left extremely shiny. He towered over most of the people present, standing at a monstrous eight feet tall, and the cybernetic, stylized spiderleg weapons extending from his backpack loomed menacing over both of their heads. Still, Thunderclap was confident he would win.

They fought between the platoons, with both armies watching. Thunderclap’s blows were like freight trains, smashing into the armor of the crab spider and making satisfying crunching sounds with each strike. However, the big man merely chuckled and traded blows with the hero, dousing him in skin-melting venom and hammering him with that bizarre toxic energy from the cannons in the legs.

Eventually, Thunderclap dove to slam his fists into the big operative’s belly, but was stopped when the spider legs were stabbed into his shoulders and back. The legs flexed, and the hero was dragged, screaming, to stand upright. He tried to swing a fist at his assailant, but was stopped when he felt a beam blast into his torso.

Some of the Longbow troops shouted in dismay as the massive Crab Spider blasted their commander over and over again like that. The beams hammered into Thunderclap’s body with enough power to force the spiderleg’s blade out of the Ballista’s body, but it would snap right back into place, stabbing again and biting deeper.

After nearly a minute of this, the beast of a man reared back and hoisted the hero up and tossed him into the air. Four lasers were projected from the legs, all focused on the point Thunderclap was heading toward. A great red haze enveloped him and he felt something press into his belly suddenly. Looking down to his abdomen, he saw a round black and red object about the size of a medicine ball, with sharp blades protruding from it. It beeped once at him before exploding, sending him rocketing right back to the ground, planting him face up in the sand.

“Victory,” the mysterious Crab Spider announced.

The Longbow troops weren’t too keen on accepting that. They drew their weapons and started to sight in on the smaller force of Arachnos soldiers. They had sheer numbers and would likely cause some damage, regardless of the fact that they were outclassed by the combined might of Black Scorpion and Silver Mantis, and possibly their third companion.

However, their intervention wasn’t necessary. None of the Longbow troops had noticed the soft shuffling behind them. Before the commanders could give the order to fire, a great many cloaked Bane Spider Scout maces rose up and fell silently, wiping out most of the Longbow forces before they knew what was happening. As one, the Bane Spiders stepped forward, hefted their weapons and struck again, hammering the Longbow demoralized Longbow forces much to the amusement of Black Scorpion as they and the platoon he’d organized mopped up the rest.

The strange Crab Spider soldier stepped up to the disabled Ballista and drew a specially designed submachine gun. It was spiked, bladed and, oddly, gold-plated, making for a strange contrast to the black armor.

As the sounds of gunfire receded, to be replaced by the pained moans of the devastated troops, Black Scorpion trundled up behind the operative and rested his claw on his shoulder. He aimed his laser cannon arm at the Ballista and made a sound with his mouth like an explosion.

“You got this, Fulkerson?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the big man replied, his voice tinny as it was artificially emitted from the suit.

Operative Fulkerson leveled the gold-plated weapon at the Ballista’s face and let loose a full volley of armor-piercing ammunition.

“…Every bullet connected,” Thunderclap said, his deep voice shaking, “I could feel every one… And despite having skin like armor… He tore my face apart… He tore my face apart…”

Holcomb broke down at that point, sobbing about how his plan had failed and his troops had been eradicated. Many were dead. Those who had survived were likely to end their careers prematurely anyway. Such a loss was quite traumatic.

“Almost one hundred fifty troops lost,” Wild sighed as he closed the folder, “And Black Scorpion’s demonstrating more cunning than we ever gave him credit for. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to add, Agent, I think we’re done here.”

“Yes…” Holcomb sighed, “I’m done…”

Tyler signed the paperwork where it was appropriate and finished writing out bullet-point notes from the interrogation. After closing the folder, he stood and patted the quiet man’s shoulder.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat things, Andrew,” he said, “You really messed up. Now, I don’t know what is going to happen to you from here on out. You’re certainly going to be a topic of debate among the talk radio nuts, that’s for sure.”

This elicited a chuckle.

“But… You’re a great asset to Longbow. Despite whatever happens, I hope you decide to stay with us. They’ll cut your pay, they’ll imprison you, and they’ll assign you to some God-forsaken backwater… But the beauty of this organization is that no matter where you find yourself, you’ll find you’re still able to make a difference, the sort of difference that causes people to look to you and smile for the good you’ve brought to their lives.”

“Decided to spout the rhetoric at me this time?” Thunderclap growled in disbelief.

“I told you where your career could go last time we met and you arrived at your own decision. This time, your spirit is broken. All that’s left to say is rhetoric. You have everything you need right there, in your body and between your ears. I just hope you take this moment as a lesson to use them both better from here on out.”

The big man nodded, but didn’t look up. Wild gave him a last pat on the shoulder and left the chamber. Once the door was closed behind him, he let out a sigh.

“So… What do you think?” Keller asked.

“He’s broken,” Wild replied, “Humiliated, exposed, and the power given him… It wasn’t enough to withstand the onslaught of that Crab Spider… God… I’d hate to think they’re coming up with their own Ballistae!”

“That’s…” Warden Jones gasped, “That’s monstrous…”

“Well, we’ve run across Bane Spiders that make even the Executioner-class troops seem like children, and those guys work alone… There are more combat-ready Fortunatas out there and Night Widows that have proven to be quite prophetic, and other Crab Spiders with their own unique abilities, armor colors and other quirks. We usually assume they’re somehow independent from Arachnos, especially since they’re usually under fire by Arachnos troops. We never considered that these unique types might still be loyal.”

“I see. Well, we’ll get these reports running up the chain, then,” Jones sighed as he took Wild’s folder, “Thank you for your help.”

Wild watched the Warden depart and turned to Agent Keller. The young woman glanced at him, but suddenly turned away.

“Are you blushing?” Tyler asked.

“Uh, no…” she replied, “I’m just… I’m just dressed in red…”

Tyler couldn’t help but start chuckling at that. Keller giggled and gave him a jab to the arm.

“Why did we ever stop talking, you goof?” she asked, “It was like we were friends, and then… You were just… Gone!”

“I don’t know, Jessie,” he replied as he rubbed his arm, “I just… I’ve been dealing with stuff left and right, and… God, I’m sorry…”

“Well, hey, my shift’s up at the end of the hour. You want to go get coffee?”

Tyler nodded.

“Sure. It’ll be good to catch up.”

“Thank you, Janus. This detour will be much appreciated.”

Daniel handed the smuggler his money, a briefcase filled with two thousand dollars in United States currency. It was all that was left of his savings, the last shreds of his life as an operative of Arachnos, save his armor, weapons, and the two Disruptor robots he was still somehow able to access, summon and command.

Three weeks. It took three weeks to learn the location at which they were keeping the beast of a man known as Power Breaker. He and Shadeheart had pressed every information broker and agent in the know throughout the Isles for anything they could learn about strange cargo shipments, prisoner transfers or clandestine operations. They avoided asking the enigmatic Exterminator Null or Arbiter Sands for what they knew; Sands because his information would come at a price, Null because they didn’t know what his reaction would be.

Eventually they had found a facility, an offshore rig that had once been a major operation for the Sky Raiders (and Nemesis, Taylor guessed). The facility had been blasted about a year ago, taking two powerful vessels along with it. Without them, the Sky Raiders couldn’t extend their control over the Atlantic and were reduced to their pirate and mercenary ways again.

The facility had become an irradiated hulk, unusable and uninhabitable for a little over a year. Once the radiation levels receded to a level that could be considered “safe,” Operative Grillo requisitioned some exploration squads to investigate the site. Onboard, the squads ran into a large family of Coralax that were trying to convert the facility into a lair and possible outpost for their twisted species. The resulting battle only lasted a few hours as the Fliers strafed the facility and teleported troops onto the landing platforms. Once the last of the Coralax had been killed or forced to retreat into the depths of the Atlantic, Grillo sent in teams to secure whatever technology could be recovered.

Afterward, the site was left to Black Scorpion to deal with. He did what he did best: cruelty. He turned it into a station with the express purpose of detaining, torturing and executing prisoners of Arachnos. He secured the most brutal members of Arachnos and made them the guards and wardens of the facility. Inside, they subjected their prisoners to abuses not seen or heard of since the days of the Inquisition, and even a few more that were available with the advent of modern technology.

He called it the Funhouse.

“I won’t be able to bring you anywhere within sight of the place,” Janus explained, “But I’m sure you and your lady friend will be able to sneak in on a small boat. I’ll give you enough gas to get there and back out to where I leave you… I’ll wait for three days. Should be all the time people like you need.”

Daniel agreed and told Candace the situation. She nodded impassively and resumed her preparations for the fight to come. He didn’t know how he felt about her when she got like this. She wasn’t the woman he’d fallen in love with anymore, she was just the assassin Arachnos had trained her to be. She would pull herself out of it later, but it was still an unsettling thing to see; that a person could be such an ice-hearted monster one moment and a warm, emotional flower the next.

“You’re not different from me, Daniel,” she said calmly as she measured out a rope, “You yourself have done much that people would consider ‘cold’ or ‘evil.’ One such thing is what’s got us in this situation in the first place.”

“I believed I was working toward a greater goal,” the former operative replied, ignoring the fact that she’d once again looked into his mind, “There was always emotion involved for me. It wasn’t until I had to see what was going on again, with fresh eyes, outside the ‘protective’ influence of Arachnos that I learned of my folly. I’ve never been able to separate my emotion from my work like you can.”

“That should annoy me,” Candace’s mouth quirked in a light smile, “But I think it’s your passion for your work, and the fact that your passion is what led you down this path, your path, that bonded me to you.”

She looked up at him, a single tear escaping her eye.

“The things I’ve been trained to do, Daniel... The things I have done… I wish… I wish I’d kept that piece of my heart in what I do, like you did…”

He knelt down to hug her and she embraced him. Huddled like that, they comforted each other. Together, they knew they could withstand the onslaught of their shared destiny. Arachnos would send forces against them, to punish them for their treachery, but they would be ready for it. They would face this new path, they would endure, they would survive, and they would thrive.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agent Wild walked down the concrete corridors of the base, wondering why he’d been called in for this. A Ballista, codenamed “Thunderclap,” had led a charge against Grandville. He had falsified documents, forged signatures, and otherwise acquired troops for the charge with the intent of forcing a confrontation between Longbow and Arachnos.

It had ended in spectacular failure. Three platoons of Longbow soldiers were now either dead or in critical condition. Only this man was in any condition to talk, and that was still only just barely. For some reason that Tyler still couldn’t fathom, he was the one assigned to commence the interrogation.

“Hello, Agent,” a female Spec-Ops soldier said as he approached.

“Hello, Agent Keller,” he replied, “It’s good to see you.”

“You remember me, sir?” she asked in surprise, “I thought… I don’t know. I thought you would forget about me…”

“You’re one of the best agents I’ve ever known. How could I forget you?”

She made a surprised noise, and was about to resume the conversation when the door opened. A Warden named Jones approached them and shook Tyler’s hand.

“It’s good you’re here, sir. I’m sure you’re wondering why you were requested…”

“Yes…” Wild arched an eyebrow, “I’m a field agent, not an interrogator.”

“Well, Thunderclap seems to believe you and he have worked together before. He said he would only trust talking to you, not the rest of us ‘bureaucrats.’”

Tyler turned to Agent Keller and shrugged. She did similar and resumed her post as a guard at the side of the door.

“Alright, I’m ready to see him…” the field agent said as he walked into the room.

Ballista Thunderclap sat at the table, his wrists in technologically advanced manacles designed to sap the energy from his body. Thus held, he couldn’t access the plethora of abilities that made Ballistae the powerhouses that put Longbow barely ahead of the game when it came to the conflict with Arachnos. He kept his face down and hidden in the shadow of his head and torso. Considering his condition, it was understandable.

“You told your captors we know each other,” Wild said as he walked to the table, “Mind telling me how that is? I think I would remember making an impression on a Ballista.”

“You talked me into re-upping,” the big man’s deep voice rumbled between sobbing gasps, “Not by selling me on some ideal, but by showing me the opportunity I had, personally, to make a difference…”

“Ah, shoot…” the smaller man sighed as he sat down in the chair opposite Thunderclap, “Agent… Holcomb. You’re the only guy I ever processed that had the potential for the Ballista Program.”

“You were the first person to tell me that,” Holcomb looked up to Tyler and the smaller man could now clearly see the bigger’s face, “I think my superiors really were trying to hold me back…”

His face looked like the surface of some blasted planet. Scars and pock-marks were torn into his flesh and he was barely recognizable as human anymore. His left eye was missing, covered now with a patch, and his right ear had holes in it. What was worse was the look in his eye. It reflected the damage done to his psyche. He was exhausted, broken and defeated. Even if he were to endure his punishment under the articles and codes of law that Freedom Corps worked under and continue his career, he wouldn’t be able to function in anywhere near the same capacity.

“A lot of those men and women have left Freedom Corps…” Tyler said, trying to keep the big man’s gaze, “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“I’m not fighting it, Agent Wild,” Thunderclap sighed, “The evidence they’ve got against me and my unit, it’s true. I’ll take responsibility for it all, I told my men and women what to do and they thought it was all a training operation… At first… But when things started getting real and they started to suspect what was happening, everybody was already caught up in it and there was no turning back.”

“Somebody turned back…”

“That’s beside the point, and… Frankly, whoever that was probably saved our lives… What a joke… Saved by betrayal…”

“What happened over there?” the agent resumed the interrogation, “What happened to you?”

Thunderclap nodded, took a few deep breaths, and proceeded to relate his tale.

“I led four platoons onto the beach of Grandville...”

They met resistance in the form of a single platoon of Crab Spiders and Spiderbots, led by Black Scorpion, Silver Mantis, and a nameless Crab Spider at their side. Oddly, the commanding villains stood away from the battle, but their presence kept the assaulting heroes from even beginning the attack.

Black Scorpion and Thunderclap met between the two armies and discussed the terms of the battle. The big villain was amused by the efforts of the obsessed hero, though he’d already learned of the planned assault long before it was ready. He reminded the Ballista that even the last major push into the Rogue Isles had been led by none other than Statesman himself, and even that was repelled.

He offered an ultimatum. A duel. His best versus Thunderclap’s best. The Ballista agreed and offered up himself as his army’s champion. Black Scorpion put forth the Crab Spider who had stood beside him and Silver Mantis.

He wasn’t like most others. His armor was painted as dark as night. This wasn’t done for any tactical reason, though, as the armor was left extremely shiny. He towered over most of the people present, standing at a monstrous eight feet tall, and the cybernetic, stylized spiderleg weapons extending from his backpack loomed menacing over both of their heads. Still, Thunderclap was confident he would win.

They fought between the platoons, with both armies watching. Thunderclap’s blows were like freight trains, smashing into the armor of the crab spider and making satisfying crunching sounds with each strike. However, the big man merely chuckled and traded blows with the hero, dousing him in skin-melting venom and hammering him with that bizarre toxic energy from the cannons in the legs.

Eventually, Thunderclap dove to slam his fists into the big operative’s belly, but was stopped when the spider legs were stabbed into his shoulders and back. The legs flexed, and the hero was dragged, screaming, to stand upright. He tried to swing a fist at his assailant, but was stopped when he felt a beam blast into his torso.

Some of the Longbow troops shouted in dismay as the massive Crab Spider blasted their commander over and over again like that. The beams hammered into Thunderclap’s body with enough power to force the spiderleg’s blade out of the Ballista’s body, but it would snap right back into place, stabbing again and biting deeper.

After nearly a minute of this, the beast of a man reared back and hoisted the hero up and tossed him into the air. Four lasers were projected from the legs, all focused on the point Thunderclap was heading toward. A great red haze enveloped him and he felt something press into his belly suddenly. Looking down to his abdomen, he saw a round black and red object about the size of a medicine ball, with sharp blades protruding from it. It beeped once at him before exploding, sending him rocketing right back to the ground, planting him face up in the sand.

“Victory,” the mysterious Crab Spider announced.

The Longbow troops weren’t too keen on accepting that. They drew their weapons and started to sight in on the smaller force of Arachnos soldiers. They had sheer numbers and would likely cause some damage, regardless of the fact that they were outclassed by the combined might of Black Scorpion and Silver Mantis, and possibly their third companion.

However, their intervention wasn’t necessary. None of the Longbow troops had noticed the soft shuffling behind them. Before the commanders could give the order to fire, a great many cloaked Bane Spider Scout maces rose up and fell silently, wiping out most of the Longbow forces before they knew what was happening. As one, the Bane Spiders stepped forward, hefted their weapons and struck again, hammering the Longbow demoralized Longbow forces much to the amusement of Black Scorpion as they and the platoon he’d organized mopped up the rest.

The strange Crab Spider soldier stepped up to the disabled Ballista and drew a specially designed submachine gun. It was spiked, bladed and, oddly, gold-plated, making for a strange contrast to the black armor.

As the sounds of gunfire receded, to be replaced by the pained moans of the devastated troops, Black Scorpion trundled up behind the operative and rested his claw on his shoulder. He aimed his laser cannon arm at the Ballista and made a sound with his mouth like an explosion.

“You got this, Fulkerson?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the big man replied, his voice tinny as it was artificially emitted from the suit.

Operative Fulkerson leveled the gold-plated weapon at the Ballista’s face and let loose a full volley of armor-piercing ammunition.

“…Every bullet connected,” Thunderclap said, his deep voice shaking, “I could feel every one… And despite having skin like armor… He tore my face apart… He tore my face apart…”

Holcomb broke down at that point, sobbing about how his plan had failed and his troops had been eradicated. Many were dead. Those who had survived were likely to end their careers prematurely anyway. Such a loss was quite traumatic.

“Almost one hundred fifty troops lost,” Wild sighed as he closed the folder, “And Black Scorpion’s demonstrating more cunning than we ever gave him credit for. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to add, Agent, I think we’re done here.”

“Yes…” Holcomb sighed, “I’m done…”

Tyler signed the paperwork where it was appropriate and finished writing out bullet-point notes from the interrogation. After closing the folder, he stood and patted the quiet man’s shoulder.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat things, Andrew,” he said, “You really messed up. Now, I don’t know what is going to happen to you from here on out. You’re certainly going to be a topic of debate among the talk radio nuts, that’s for sure.”

This elicited a chuckle.

“But… You’re a great asset to Longbow. Despite whatever happens, I hope you decide to stay with us. They’ll cut your pay, they’ll imprison you, and they’ll assign you to some God-forsaken backwater… But the beauty of this organization is that no matter where you find yourself, you’ll find you’re still able to make a difference, the sort of difference that causes people to look to you and smile for the good you’ve brought to their lives.”

“Decided to spout the rhetoric at me this time?” Thunderclap growled in disbelief.

“I told you where your career could go last time we met and you arrived at your own decision. This time, your spirit is broken. All that’s left to say is rhetoric. You have everything you need right there, in your body and between your ears. I just hope you take this moment as a lesson to use them both better from here on out.”

The big man nodded, but didn’t look up. Wild gave him a last pat on the shoulder and left the chamber. Once the door was closed behind him, he let out a sigh.

“So… What do you think?” Keller asked.

“He’s broken,” Wild replied, “Humiliated, exposed, and the power given him… It wasn’t enough to withstand the onslaught of that Crab Spider… God… I’d hate to think they’re coming up with their own Ballistae!”

“That’s…” Warden Jones gasped, “That’s monstrous…”

“Well, we’ve run across Bane Spiders that make even the Executioner-class troops seem like children, and those guys work alone… There are more combat-ready Fortunatas out there and Night Widows that have proven to be quite prophetic, and other Crab Spiders with their own unique abilities, armor colors and other quirks. We usually assume they’re somehow independent from Arachnos, especially since they’re usually under fire by Arachnos troops. We never considered that these unique types might still be loyal.”

“I see. Well, we’ll get these reports running up the chain, then,” Jones sighed as he took Wild’s folder, “Thank you for your help.”

Wild watched the Warden depart and turned to Agent Keller. The young woman glanced at him, but suddenly turned away.

“Are you blushing?” Tyler asked.

“Uh, no…” she replied, “I’m just… I’m just dressed in red…”

Tyler couldn’t help but start chuckling at that. Keller giggled and gave him a jab to the arm.

“Why did we ever stop talking, you goof?” she asked, “It was like we were friends, and then… You were just… Gone!”

“I don’t know, Jessie,” he replied as he rubbed his arm, “I just… I’ve been dealing with stuff left and right, and… God, I’m sorry…”

“Well, hey, my shift’s up at the end of the hour. You want to go get coffee?”

Tyler nodded.

“Sure. It’ll be good to catch up.”

My guess, though?

Winter.

(b^.^)b

At the end there, when we lost a third member of the team and were down to five, Hyper immediately set to plotting how to cover the gap. Definitely some fine maneuvering on that one. That was a very smooth aggro team, and I'm sorry as Hell the raid went south.

Another chapter of Grey's Army: Back in Action is up!

http://boards.cityofheroes.com/showt...87#post3335587

Kipland and Roland need to figure out what forces are available to them as they take on the last of the Independent Fake Nemeses. Many of the group's heavy hitters are in another community called Angel Falls, so they need to make do with less-known associates in their group. Fortunately, they also have a newcomer, the confident "Notorious" Johnny Nack.

“Has she called?” Kipland asked as they approached the dimensional rift at the feet of the massive statue of M-1 in Steel Canyon.

“No,” Roland replied, “We haven’t spoken since… Since then.”

“That’s… That’s too bad, man.”

Kipland keyed up the base on his communicator and the rift flickered a moment, registering that the command had been accepted. The two took a breath and stepped into the blue field, momentarily disoriented as they were whisked miles away to the location of Randall Grey’s base.

For a long time, the portal had been finicky. It would send members to the wrong base for reasons that were still unclear. Typically, it was only to groups that had coaligned with Grey’s Army. Since there weren’t many that did, that wasn’t a problem for a long while. When Randall signed on with a Freedom Corps program to help out fledgling groups, there were still no aberrations.

However, one group became quite popular and had acquired large amounts of property, artifacts and underwent all sorts of unusual adventures in its own respect. They weren’t just a punch-card supergroup or some storage bin, which was unusual considering the name of the group was so simple. The Teamsters had proven to be quite the peculiar band of allies.

Sheldon still hadn’t found what had caused the crossed connection for various members of the group. He’d posited that their heavy magical influences probably had something to do with it, and worked on altering the frequency to teleport into the base regularly. There hadn’t been any incidents in months, but Kip and Roland still instinctively looked about the portal chamber to make sure they really were in Grey’s base under Kings Row.

Seeing the symbol satisfied their concerns and they proceeded up the stairs and down the hall, passing the lounge, turning at the teleportation array and making their way to the ring the former Brutal Warriors Order members had made.

Kipland walked into the room and growled under his breath at the three tapestries proclaiming “B-W-O” on the north wall. Dominating the center of the room was a ring with two men fighting in it. Matt “Dirty Ice” Jones and Dustin “King Slater” Simms were two of the few BWO members who’d gone on vacation to return to the group. Cedric Grey and Mattock McGinty were also missing.

It irritated Kip. He knew where they all were, and he didn’t fault their reasons for staying there instead of returning home, but he could have used their help.

“Char and Randy won’t be much help in all of this,” Kip sighed as they watched Matt and Dustin trade unpowered blows, “We’re going to have to rely on what’s left and hope their training took hold.”

“Oh yeah, baby!” Matt suddenly shouted before shoulder-bumping Dustin and popping the taller man in the cheek with his padded glove, “We know what we’re doing now babe-!”

Dustin cut him off with a jab to the mouth that sent the pudgy brute stumbling into the ropes. Matthew laughed there and pulled his glove off, reaching out to shake Dustin’s after he’d removed his.

“Good shot, man, good shot,” he congratulated his opponent, “Got me good…”

A whisp of flame burst from his mouth and his split lip closed. Dustin had seen the trick before, so he didn’t even flinch as he congratulated his friend on a good fight.

“Well, guys,” Kip announced as they exited the ring, “We’ve got a situation. This might require effort from a lot of us. You all good on fighting Nemesis?”

“Aw, Hell-yeah!” Jones shouted as he toweled himself off, “I love beating the **** out of those guys!”

“They’ve never really been a problem for me,” Dustin agreed, “Whatever you need, I’ll do.”

“Cool,” Kip nodded as he started to feel confident with the forces they had to work with, “You know anybody else who’s available?”

“Dale’s around,” Dustin offered, scratching his beard as he thought, “Oh! Hey! Johnny’s signed up with us!”

“Johnny?”

“Who’s that?” Roland asked.

“Oh, come on, guys!” they heard a high-toned voice behind them, though this one wasn’t as sharp as Kip’s, “Don’t tell me you forgot your good ol’ Notorious P-I-M-P!”

Durj and Grey turned to the voice and saw a young man in a loud red outfit. He was wearing a pair of reflective sunglasses, a gold-trimmed cloak with a high collar and a red top hat. He beamed at them and walked over to shake Kip’s hand.

John Dawson Nack was a confident, intelligent red-head with brown eyes and one of the few mutants in Kingdale when they were growing up. He was considered “safe” as his power was just light manipulation, meaning he could make images and illusions. It kept him out of school sports programs, which didn’t bother him because he didn’t like them anyway, but otherwise didn’t affect much of his life. Some students tried to give Johnny a hard time, but enough times of punching lockers and walls because they thought they were punching a face caused the usual suspects to give up and turn to other victims.

Kip hadn’t really known him, but he did hang out with Jared and a lot of his friends in those days. The two were similar, though he preferred Johnny’s approach to being a “social connoisseur.” He was a friend to many, and easy to get along with, but he usually wasn’t considered a joiner to any clique. He just wandered amongst them, enjoying their company as they enjoyed his.

“Where have you been all these years?” Kip asked as they broke their handshake.

“Vegas,” John replied, “I’m good at cards, and I figured my talents would get me work if it were ever needed. In the end, I turned out to be better than I thought. Most people go into Vegas, they have a budget they don’t mind burning out, and they have a fun time taking in shows or playing the games. There are plenty of horror stories of people blowing their life savings or worse, too. Me, I would spend each day with ‘This is my budget for the day. If this runs out, I’m done for the day.’ Probably not the best strategy for folks who don’t start out with a few grand for folding money or those who don’t know how to actually play the games, but it worked for me.”

“Let me guess,” Matthew joked, “You used your mutant powers to your advantage!”

“With the world the way it is, and the likelihood that some numb nuts morons would try that, don’t you think the casinos in Las Vegas would have, oh, I don’t know… Depowering systems in place? Ever heard of antimagic fields, subsonic frequency agitators for psychics and other methods of preventing such cheating?”

“Well, uh…”

“Though, I did see some dipshit try… He even bet this…”

Johnny hoisted up a twisted black scepter, the end of which had a dark crystal and some shadowy energy floating around it. It was similar to a lot of Dark Scepters that many meta humans liked to wield, as it was a nice bolt of negative energy when the chips were down. However, this one had a scattering of bright blue runes etched into its sides.

“Honestly, it wasn’t until I got this thing that I considered looking you guys up,” Johnny explained, “I mean, I’ve seen what people go through in your line of work…”

“This isn’t something you just wander into, Johnny,” Kip intoned as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Oh, Kip, I know what you mean!”

Johnny aimed the scepter at Matthew and a bolt of ice struck him in the chest. The brute flared up instinctively, but the damage was already done, he felt a sharp sting of cold to his core. It was hard to move, and he couldn’t stop the young man’s next attack.

A group of shapely women suddenly appeared around him. This caused Kip, Dustin and Matt to double take as the scantily-clad, showgirl-esque ladies lavished Dirty Ice with attention.

Then the beatings began. They hurled him into the ring and proceeded to punch, kick and pummel him with various abilities, from electric zaps to fiery and icy blades. After a moment, the fight was over and Matt was lying on the ring’s floor, laughing so hard it hurt.

“That was freaking amazing, man!”

“Hey, what kind of a pimp would I be without my ladies?” Johnny laughed, “So, Kip, what do you think?”

“I think you’re not taking this as seriously as you should,” the small man sighed, “But… You wouldn’t be the first, and… I think you’re more capable of pulling your head out of your butt when you have to than some of your other old buddies…”

“Hey, I resemble that remark!” Matt chuckled as he pushed himself off the ring.

“I don’t, so I feel fine,” Dustin quipped as he started walking up the ramp to enter the mystical portal chamber to later make his way to the kitchen/brewery, “Johnny, welcome aboard.”

“Has she called?” Kipland asked as they approached the dimensional rift at the feet of the massive statue of M-1 in Steel Canyon.

“No,” Roland replied, “We haven’t spoken since… Since then.”

“That’s… That’s too bad, man.”

Kipland keyed up the base on his communicator and the rift flickered a moment, registering that the command had been accepted. The two took a breath and stepped into the blue field, momentarily disoriented as they were whisked miles away to the location of Randall Grey’s base.

For a long time, the portal had been finicky. It would send members to the wrong base for reasons that were still unclear. Typically, it was only to groups that had coaligned with Grey’s Army. Since there weren’t many that did, that wasn’t a problem for a long while. When Randall signed on with a Freedom Corps program to help out fledgling groups, there were still no aberrations.

However, one group became quite popular and had acquired large amounts of property, artifacts and underwent all sorts of unusual adventures in its own respect. They weren’t just a punch-card supergroup or some storage bin, which was unusual considering the name of the group was so simple. The Teamsters had proven to be quite the peculiar band of allies.

Sheldon still hadn’t found what had caused the crossed connection for various members of the group. He’d posited that their heavy magical influences probably had something to do with it, and worked on altering the frequency to teleport into the base regularly. There hadn’t been any incidents in months, but Kip and Roland still instinctively looked about the portal chamber to make sure they really were in Grey’s base under Kings Row.

Seeing the symbol satisfied their concerns and they proceeded up the stairs and down the hall, passing the lounge, turning at the teleportation array and making their way to the ring the former Brutal Warriors Order members had made.

Kipland walked into the room and growled under his breath at the three tapestries proclaiming “B-W-O” on the north wall. Dominating the center of the room was a ring with two men fighting in it. Matt “Dirty Ice” Jones and Dustin “King Slater” Simms were two of the few BWO members who’d gone on vacation to return to the group. Cedric Grey and Mattock McGinty were also missing.

It irritated Kip. He knew where they all were, and he didn’t fault their reasons for staying there instead of returning home, but he could have used their help.

“Char and Randy won’t be much help in all of this,” Kip sighed as they watched Matt and Dustin trade unpowered blows, “We’re going to have to rely on what’s left and hope their training took hold.”

“Oh yeah, baby!” Matt suddenly shouted before shoulder-bumping Dustin and popping the taller man in the cheek with his padded glove, “We know what we’re doing now babe-!”

Dustin cut him off with a jab to the mouth that sent the pudgy brute stumbling into the ropes. Matthew laughed there and pulled his glove off, reaching out to shake Dustin’s after he’d removed his.

“Good shot, man, good shot,” he congratulated his opponent, “Got me good…”

A whisp of flame burst from his mouth and his split lip closed. Dustin had seen the trick before, so he didn’t even flinch as he congratulated his friend on a good fight.

“Well, guys,” Kip announced as they exited the ring, “We’ve got a situation. This might require effort from a lot of us. You all good on fighting Nemesis?”

“Aw, Hell-yeah!” Jones shouted as he toweled himself off, “I love beating the **** out of those guys!”

“They’ve never really been a problem for me,” Dustin agreed, “Whatever you need, I’ll do.”

“Cool,” Kip nodded as he started to feel confident with the forces they had to work with, “You know anybody else who’s available?”

“Dale’s around,” Dustin offered, scratching his beard as he thought, “Oh! Hey! Johnny’s signed up with us!”

“Johnny?”

“Who’s that?” Roland asked.

“Oh, come on, guys!” they heard a high-toned voice behind them, though this one wasn’t as sharp as Kip’s, “Don’t tell me you forgot your good ol’ Notorious P-I-M-P!”

Durj and Grey turned to the voice and saw a young man in a loud red outfit. He was wearing a pair of reflective sunglasses, a gold-trimmed cloak with a high collar and a red top hat. He beamed at them and walked over to shake Kip’s hand.

John Dawson Nack was a confident, intelligent red-head with brown eyes and one of the few mutants in Kingdale when they were growing up. He was considered “safe” as his power was just light manipulation, meaning he could make images and illusions. It kept him out of school sports programs, which didn’t bother him because he didn’t like them anyway, but otherwise didn’t affect much of his life. Some students tried to give Johnny a hard time, but enough times of punching lockers and walls because they thought they were punching a face caused the usual suspects to give up and turn to other victims.

Kip hadn’t really known him, but he did hang out with Jared and a lot of his friends in those days. The two were similar, though he preferred Johnny’s approach to being a “social connoisseur.” He was a friend to many, and easy to get along with, but he usually wasn’t considered a joiner to any clique. He just wandered amongst them, enjoying their company as they enjoyed his.

“Where have you been all these years?” Kip asked as they broke their handshake.

“Vegas,” John replied, “I’m good at cards, and I figured my talents would get me work if it were ever needed. In the end, I turned out to be better than I thought. Most people go into Vegas, they have a budget they don’t mind burning out, and they have a fun time taking in shows or playing the games. There are plenty of horror stories of people blowing their life savings or worse, too. Me, I would spend each day with ‘This is my budget for the day. If this runs out, I’m done for the day.’ Probably not the best strategy for folks who don’t start out with a few grand for folding money or those who don’t know how to actually play the games, but it worked for me.”

“Let me guess,” Matthew joked, “You used your mutant powers to your advantage!”

“With the world the way it is, and the likelihood that some numb nuts morons would try that, don’t you think the casinos in Las Vegas would have, oh, I don’t know… Depowering systems in place? Ever heard of antimagic fields, subsonic frequency agitators for psychics and other methods of preventing such cheating?”

“Well, uh…”

“Though, I did see some dipshit try… He even bet this…”

Johnny hoisted up a twisted black scepter, the end of which had a dark crystal and some shadowy energy floating around it. It was similar to a lot of Dark Scepters that many meta humans liked to wield, as it was a nice bolt of negative energy when the chips were down. However, this one had a scattering of bright blue runes etched into its sides.

“Honestly, it wasn’t until I got this thing that I considered looking you guys up,” Johnny explained, “I mean, I’ve seen what people go through in your line of work…”

“This isn’t something you just wander into, Johnny,” Kip intoned as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Oh, Kip, I know what you mean!”

Johnny aimed the scepter at Matthew and a bolt of ice struck him in the chest. The brute flared up instinctively, but the damage was already done, he felt a sharp sting of cold to his core. It was hard to move, and he couldn’t stop the young man’s next attack.

A group of shapely women suddenly appeared around him. This caused Kip, Dustin and Matt to double take as the scantily-clad, showgirl-esque ladies lavished Dirty Ice with attention.

Then the beatings began. They hurled him into the ring and proceeded to punch, kick and pummel him with various abilities, from electric zaps to fiery and icy blades. After a moment, the fight was over and Matt was lying on the ring’s floor, laughing so hard it hurt.

“That was freaking amazing, man!”

“Hey, what kind of a pimp would I be without my ladies?” Johnny laughed, “So, Kip, what do you think?”

“I think you’re not taking this as seriously as you should,” the small man sighed, “But… You wouldn’t be the first, and… I think you’re more capable of pulling your head out of your butt when you have to than some of your other old buddies…”

“Hey, I resemble that remark!” Matt chuckled as he pushed himself off the ring.

“I don’t, so I feel fine,” Dustin quipped as he started walking up the ramp to enter the mystical portal chamber to later make his way to the kitchen/brewery, “Johnny, welcome aboard.”

Oh, the argument Manticore and Sister Psyche are having. This one's easy.

Sister Psyche is saying that it's great that we're all heroes (if you're in Fort Trident, you're a hero), so we can keep the place safe for children.

She emphasizes children and directs it to Manticore.

Manticore says it's great that we're all heroes so we can protect the innocents from all the dangers that plague the city.

He emphasizes the dangers.

Sister Psyche wants to have a baby. Manticore feels their lives are too dangerous and chaotic for it right now. Neither are in the wrong, hence the standoff.

I would separate the travel powers and the pool powers. Then deregulate the pool powers so that you don't need prerequisites to use them. I don't understand why I need to take a taunt from the Presence Pool to get to the stuff I really want in it, the Fear. I don't see the need to have to "relearn" how to punch or kick before being Tough, or to learn two of those abilities before learning how to dodge effectively.

Plus, the values all need to be fixed up. Blasters need higher numbers in a lot of those items than the tankers do, like Maneuvers or Tough and Weave... That, or the Pool Powers should have the same values across the board, regardless of archetype.

I would probably also make Tough have resistance to all except Psionic as opposed to just Smash/Lethal. Perhaps not as much resistance to All/-Psi as for Smash/Lethal, but there are a lot of sets that don't resist elements all that well (SR, Ice, Energy Aura), and they could really use some decent shoring up.

Finally, Regeneration would have a real Moment of Glory again. This fifteen second "Oh Crap!" button is just... It doesn't do it for me. I was killed so many times using it, I finally stopped. It didn't serve its purpose, and now I've moved on to other tactics.

When Issue 20 comes out, we'll gain the ability to unleash the unstoppable power of kittens upon our enemies.

Just you wait! They will be unable to resist the adorable!

...

It is now my fervent hope that players will request-nay, DEMAND!-kitten controllers. RELEASE THE KITTIES!


I've gone quite mad.

Hm. Maybe I-19 will get me playing again...

My characters would point at me and say "Ah. You're the god we get to blame for the misery we've been put through."

One in particular would be quite pleased to start carving me up like a deer. And he's a hero character!

He'd be shouting stuff like "What is wrong with you!? How could you let Silver Mantis DO THAT to me!?"

If you feel like returning, we'll keep a light on for ya.

And, because somebody has to say it...

Your stuff. Can I have it?

((Also, six years and less than 800 posts!? Wow! Just... WOW!))

Ah, I see.

I don't know if an apology is sufficient. Somebody get me some pieces of wood. I think a crucifixion is in order...

Was the mission over? If it wasn't, everybody should have stayed the level at which they were exemplared/sidekicked.

Zek, you may as well ignore this individual, he is certainly not here for any real discourse. He is clearly just trying to get a rise out of you.

Frankly, I say that there's nothing left to do except drop the issue.

The most the PERC can take away from this situation is that a lot of players felt the event was mishandled, both in advertising and in execution, and players have learned something of a lesson regarding paying closer attention to events in which they have an interest.

We could go on and on, but I think it's time to move on.

Ooh! I thought of another...

"Where... Are my pants?"

You can switch out the "my" in it, too.

"Where... Are your pants!?"

I need more booze.

Can we get some thin floor-to-ceiling walls for bases? I'm not talking those corridor-blocking things we already have. I'm talking stuff about as thick as the bookshelves or Desks.

Seriously, I love the ideas behind base editing, I love how we can make those babies shine, but I am sick and tired of needing to play Legos with Desks (specifically, the cube ones so there's no issue of "Hey, these are just cabinets!")

Heck, at least with Legos, there are BIGGER pieces so you can save time!