NullOp

Quintara, i don't see how it would make higher levels feel penalized. I, personally, would feel god like as i stood there taking tiny little hits against my enormous health. Sure, i'm hitting them back for a tiny amount back... but that amount is tiny only in comparison. To the low levels i'm hitting, thats a huge chunk.

If damage was scaled up, i doubt i'd find any fun in PVP at all. After all, it would be everyone just alpha striking each other for one shot kills. I'm sure all the level 40+ would be all over the boards whining about some level 12 who one shotted him with build up + snipe.

The battles should be epic and heroic, in my opinion, and not a brief flash of fancy color and a trip to the hospital.

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this would still guarantee that the higher toon always won but would prolong the agony of the lower level toon, However if the lower level toon had a travel power at least this would give them a chance to run away if it was not a hold

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Thats EXACTLY what i'm trying to accomplish.

First off... its a level 40 vs level 10. Higher toon IS gonna win... unless the level 10 got a gang of his buddies, mapped out a strategy, then all jumped the 40 from behind. They might have a chance then.

If a level 40 jumps a level 10 to grief him, he could at least get away.

If a level 10 jumps a level 40... well... he better know what he's doing or he's gonna deserve whats coming to him.

See what i'm trying to get at?

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The problem with scaling damage up or down based on target level is that you're basically denying the higher level player the just reward he's earned for leveling his character. If a level 10 shooting at a level 40 does 40th level damage, what's the point? They should not be on a equal footing. The 40th level player has presumably worked hard to earn his extra hp and his larger damage, so it is unfair to strip that from him. Scaling up the level 10's damage to the level 40's equivalent does just that.

PvP needs to be fun and something that doesn't get abusive. However, that doesn't mean a 1 on 1 fight has to be fair. If I decide to pick fistfight with a grizzly bear, well, I expect to lose. You can even give me a knife and I'll still expect to lose. That's just common sense. A level 10 should know that picking a fight with a level 40 is suicide. It should be common sense. At the same time the system needs checks and balances so the level 40 isn't deliberately hunting level 10's just so he can gank them.

There ARE things that can be done -- both to reduce ganking (I'm not promising it will ever completely go away) and allow a broader level range in PvP combat. Lower levels should have a chance to attack and defend themselves, even if it is hard. As we implement them we're going to test them internally and the ideas that survive that test will then move on to various stages of beta testing.

So at this point I won't say just what our plans are (because I like to test things first), but I just figured I'd shake the web here.

Lord Recluse

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What if it was one way - Damage scaled DOWN, but not up?

Ok, we have our hypothetical level 10 vs level 40. Now, I don't care how many ways you cut it, the level 40 IS going to beat the living daylights out of the level 10. However, by doing it with a one-shot-yer-dead, its neither fun nor heroic.

What if damage scaled DOWN, but not up? So the level 10 hits the level 40, he does, lets say, 15 damage. The level 40 laughs and returns fire, doing - 15 damage. Now, you may think this is unfair for the level 40... not true... first, this would make ANY PVP battle at least something more than a one shot one kill. The level 40 still has a MAJOR upper hand here... his hit points are more than double, even triple, what the lowly level 10 has. Just a couple of hits from the level 40 and its over, while it would take the level 10 all day to kill the 40. The level 40 also has many more powers at his disposal than the two or three attacks the level 10 has.

Essentially, the level 40 would always attack lower levels with their power as if he was their same, equal level. The level 10 would attack higher levels as if he was still level 10.

Battles, even grossly one sided ones, would still be a BATTLE, and if needed, would still give lower levels time to scramble away from the griefers to saftey.

This change wouldn't even effect people fighting at similar levels, so nothing would be noticed there.

Null grimly walked along the streets of Paragon City. He'd walked these same streets for years now, yet they all still seemed so unfamiliar. It was a constant feeling of bieng in the wrong place... like he wasn't sure where he was supposed to be, or what he should be doing. He just didn't feel like he belonged.

"Help! Someone, please help!" A woman's cry pierced the evening air.

Null stopped in his tracks and sighed, slumping his shoulders. He didn't mind helping other people out, but at times it just seemed like such a constant inconvenience. He called back in a monotone voice, almost rehearsed like you'd hear from a telemarket sales pitch, "Coming, coming. Be right there, help is on the way."

Turning around, Null ran towards the call of distress. He sprinted across the street, several cars honking loudly at his passage, towards a half empty parking lot several buildings down. He arrived at the parking lot to find two teens threatening a woman by her car. The boys had red bandanas tied around their faces, hiding their idenity and sporting their colors. One of them had grabbed the frightened woman's purse and was engaged in a tug-of-war match with the lady as the other one looked on threateningly.

"I'm sorry, can't let you do this." Null said in a firm tone, almost as if he was scolding some child. The two boys suddenly looked up from their prey, realizing they weren't alone any longer.

The second thug took one look at Null before he took off in a dead sprint crying out, "It's a cowl! I'm outta here!", as he made it to a side fence and vaulted over.

Null snatched the lone boy's hand from the purse, dropping it, the delinquent's eyes looking up at him with a mixture of boiling hatred and stark terror. He reared back his fist, then paused, glancing at the woman he was rescuing as she stood frozen in bewilderment.

"Didn't I save you from the Circle of Thorns last week?"

Without even waiting for a reply from her he turned back and slammed his fist into the thug's chest, knocking the wind out of him and driving him over the hood of the car. Shaking his head, Null slowly bent down and picked up the ladies purse.

As he straightened back up, about to give the same old "it's all in a day's work, ma'am" speech... the one he's rehearsed a hundred times over from countless rescues... a sudden splitting pain erupted from his gut as he was thrown against the side of the car. Slumping down to the ground, he groaned, his vision blurred momentarily as he reeled from the force of the blow. A large, burly man stood towering over
him, every individual muscle visible through his glaring red, white, and blue spandex suit. He was grinning from ear to ear like some giddy kid on christmas morning as he was handing the ladies purse... the one Null was about to return... back to the woman.

"It's all in a day's work, ma'am!", He proudly said as he puffed out his chest, "I'll take this riffraff down to the station and he won't ever bother the likes of you again! Be well, good citizen of Paragon, and remember, the Sterling Fist is watching out for you!"

"Wha... ung... what in the nine hells are you doing, you idiot?" Null gasped for breath as he rightened himself and slowly stood to his feet.

The overzealous man's grin dissapeared for just a moment as he looked at Null, curious as to why someone would ask such a question. He smiled broadly once more as he spoke, "Why, i'm taking you into custody, you purse snatcher! Justice will shine this day, for the Sterling Fist is watching out fo-"

"Okay, spare me the cheesy lecture, muscleman." Null interrupted, "It's apparent you spent all your time at the gym and not enough in school. I was just returning this ladies purse to her from the real thugs, who just ran off, wise guy."

Null thumbed the far end of the parking lot where the purse snatcher could be glimpsed just ducking into a back alley, clutching at his chest. The lady, still speechless, just glanced at the brute of a man and managed an affirmative nod.

"Egad!" The muscle bound crusader exclaimed, starting toward the alley, then paused next to Null and added ominously, "I'll be watching you... for I am the Sterling Fist!"

"Fist this." Null muttered in reply. He stalked off continuing on his way, shaking his head as soon the resounding bellow could be heard down a distant alley, "Stop in the name of the Sterling Fist!"

***

((I'd just like to take this opportunity ask for a little bit of feedback on what i've got so far. It's been quite a while since i've written, and any constructive criticism on my style would be great. And, most importantly, i'd like to know if anyone is enjoying this so far. If you are, great, i'll keep going, but if this is nothing more than a "meh" thread, I can keep it elsewhere and not waste time here with it. Sure, maybe i'm asking for a little bit of an ego boost or pat on the back, but who doesen't need one from time to time? Let me know what could be made better/whats good! Thanks guys. ))

Several people bustling about on their official business gave pause and odd looks at this strange hooded man as he slowly and purposely walked up the front steps of City Hall. He was still covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust, and looked oddly out of place among the suits and ties on the way to their meetings and business lunches. Unconcerned, he strode to the wide doors and held it open for a dour looking woman politely. She merely stared at the man with an almost dissaproving gaze as she strode by and about her business.

Swiftly he made his way down the long hall of the east wing and entered the main offices of D.A.T.A.. The office wasn't what one would normally expect, packed with electronic and lab equipment, automated machines, all laid out neatly in a sterile environment that would put most hospitals to shame. Several interns and technitions busied themselves among the equipment, adjusting and working with the complex machinery. A tall young man wearing slacks and a shaved head looked up from a neatly piled stack of files and smiled, extending one hand as he walked around the table to greet his new arrival.

"Null! Glad to see you made it back okay! I was really worried that you might have gotten yourself into too much this time. How did things go?", the man spoke sincerely.

Null did not accept the man's hand, but nodded politely instead as he replied, "Your lead turned into an ambush. You should check more carefully where you get your information from, Mr. Davies."

Mr. Davies dropped his hand back down to his side and shook his head with a wry smile, "I told you we had limited information on this at best. I even advised against the whole thing, remember?"

Null pulled his hood down, revealing his face from its shadow. His head was completely hairless and had a white metallic sheen, it's features skulpted so it resembled nothing more than a metal cast skull than something living. He stared down at Mr. Davies through the protective goggles and said in a harsh tone, "I did not find any indications that it was the lead I was looking for. I've yet to gather any useful information from your sources. Has your research here in the lab at least proved any results?"

Mr. Davies put one hand out reassuringly as he spoke, "Trust me, Null, i've been combing through all the information I can find. Post war operations, military experiments, project zero... A lot of this stuff was disbanded years ago, and most of it is highly classified or even denied that it exists. There's not much that i've been able to dig up. As for our research..."

Mr. Davies paused, seeming to search for the words to say.

"As... as i've said before, we don't know what makes you... "work". The engineering of your artifical limbs is well made, but nothing really all that advanced. Which is why we're so confused as to how easily your body can repair itself. Hell, we still haven't even figured what powers them, they just seem to work on their own ac-"

"Tell me something I don't know!" Null interrupted, raising his voice. He raised his clenched fist before Mr. Davies, the ends of the length of small chain dangling from it's grasp. Several technitions stopped their work and silently watched, apprehensive. "I've been waiting around for three months for you to tell me "you don't know"? What use are you to me? I run around and do your petty little tasks for you, and in the end I've not gained one single fact!"

Mr. Davies gently placed his hands over Null's fist and spoke in a calm voice, seemingly undaunted by Null's behavior. "Look, I know this is frustrating but i'm doing all I can. We've still accomplished more than you yourself alone on the streets could have. Now look, I'm not sure what else I can do but I'm trying. In the mean time, I have a friend who helps run an... "oddities" shop. She has a lot of historical research. A lot of it is on myth and lore, but I'm willing to bet she has records from as far back as the war. You won't find anything official, but at least it's something to check out. Perhaps you can find something there."

Mr. Davies watched Null silently for a moment as he stood there. Null merely gazed back like some sort of sentinel statue briefly, before slowly lowering his fist. Mr. Davies nodded and walked back over to the table and scribbled something down on a blank corner of a sketchpad, ripped it off, and handed it to Null.

"You'll find her on Talos Island."

Null glanced at the scrap piece of paper in his hand and nodded slowly before he turned and walked out.

((I'm starting this as a way to help tell and flesh out the backstory of my hero, as well as explore the aspects of what makes someone a hero and the shades of grey in between. Sometimes there's no fine line between good and bad, and sometimes heroes can cross into that void.

I might post in small or large bits, depending on time available to me. For now i'll start with a simple introduction. Any an all are welcome to jump in at any time if you wish! ))

***

The sounds of thunder erupted from the decrepid warehouse complex, mere moments before a fiery blast spouted from the shattered windows, splintering chunks of wood and debris from the walls. The entire building shuddered from the blast, lit up briefly like some giant twisted jack-o-lantern. Bits of rebar and splintered wood sprayed from the windows and loading dock bays, mixed with pieces and parts from dozens of clockwork Cogs among the debris.

A body landed about thirty yards away, thrown by the blast like a limp doll, instantly covered by a thin layer of debris and dust. The thunder from the blast echoed across the desolate Baumton cityscape for a moment before the quiet stillness of the ruined buildings pressed in once more. A thick layer of dust billowed out from the shell of a warehouse, the occasional sound of falling lumber and bouncing metal clanging against the cement. A large shadow came lumbering out of one of the splintered warehouse bays, it's head catching and breaking off a chunk of the warehouse above. The large, rusted metal automaton continued lumbering swiftly unimpeded, smoke and fire trailing from various bent and broken gears as it whirred and clunked along arhythmically. The gargantuan clockwork beast made it no farther than a dozen yards from the structure before it suddenly stopped, it's gears siezing in place. A moment later the monstrosity slowly rocked forward, smashing into the pavement, it's pieces breaking apart and scattering so resembled nothing more than another pile among the debris.

The dust slowly settled. A slight grunt came from the dusty body as it pushed to sit up, emerging from the thin layer of splintered lumber and dust. The hooded figure sat there for a moment, staring forward at the wreckage of the warehouse through his glaring red lensed goggles. Slowly and carefully he rose to his feet. His long baggy black pants now looked grey with all the dust, the red mystical markings along the sides barely visible through the filth. He absent mindedly ran one hand over the front of his thick leather jacket, which showed signs of years of abuse. The sleeves themselves had been ripped off long ago, revealing a startling sight of skeletal looking hydraulics and pistons in a robotic representation of arms where flesh should have been.

He raised up his right fist, the ends of a small chain dangling from it. Slowly he opened it and gazed at the contents within his palm for just a moment almost longingly, before he quickly snapped his fist shut and dropped his arm to his side.

"So much for this lead." He said to no one in particular.

He tried to take a step but paused when he realized something was wrong. He glanced down at his knee and realized the joint was bending the wrong way. Without so much as a second thought he quickly pocketed his treasure and reached down and snapped the leg back into position.

Glancing about the area, surveying it quietly for a moment, he began to slowly limp towards the main street nearby. After a just a few steps, his stride was no longer limping, and he soon silently stalked down the deserted road ahead.

Good luck with that, Demonica. Armoring isn't easy in the least :P Should you need any help, look up SCA armorers online. They would be able to give you a lot of good information, or even do custom piecework for you.

ROFL

The winners all recieved a legal document to fill out to claim our prizes that allow Cryptic/NCSoft to use our pictures on their site and for promotional purposes, ect. In filling out the form (Name, Address, ect.) I came across this question which just cracks me up:

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CANADIAN RESIDENTS NOT FROM QUEBEC! To claim your prize, you must be able to answer the following question correctly:

12 x 10 + 4 = (please provide answer)


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... i'm so not kidding either. Poor Canadians :P