Ravenswing

In a Galaxy Far, Far Away...
January 23rd 2009, 19:45. Galaxy Girl Memorial High School.

Annette Barrington looked down at the woman behind the reception table outside the main sports hall and forced a smile. The years had not been too kind to Alice Whittaker. She had put on about thirty pounds since Annette had last seen her. The wedding ring was also new. Annette guessed Whittaker was the wrong surname now.

Frowning, Alice looked down her list and shook her head. "No, you've foxed me," she said.

"Annette," Annette supplied, "Annette Barrington."

Alice looked mildly shocked, which gave Annette a twinge of satisfaction. "Well, you certainly have changed." She summoned a smile and handed over a printed, card badge with what looked like a yearbook photo and her name on it. The photo showed a fat-faced girl with brown hair half-hiding her face. Annette doubted it would help anyone recognise her. She had been unpopular at the time the picture was taken, and a virtual recluse when the flab had gone. "Do go on in," Alice added. "There are quite a few already here."

Smiling vaguely, Annette walked toward the hall, pinning her badge to the short, black dress she had decided was suitable for the occasion. As it was, the safety pin was stiff and she was concentrating so hard on fixing it that she missed the silence that fell over the room until Ni prodded her. We seem to have made an impression. She looked up to see a couple of dozen faces looking back at her. She pricked her thumb on the pin and did not notice. Ni giggled and increased her white blood and stem cell output to repair the wound. Annette closed the pin, settled herself, and headed for a groaning table laden with food and drink. She could smell the alcohol in the punch, which was not a good sign. We really must work on our alcohol tolerance. There was also white wine, thankfully, being dispensed by a tall, older man Annette thought she recognised. "Mister Thompson?" she asked, genuinely smiling for the first time.

"That's right," he replied, handing her a flute filled with wine. "Annette, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I'm amazed you recognised me," she said, waving her vaguely at her badge.

"I've a good memory for bright students." She blushed at the compliment, something she had not done in a while. "Also, I remember you fairly well at the end of your time here. That's an old photograph. How did you escape the photographers after that?"

"Talent," she replied, grinning. "No, I was in counselling and persuaded them that my low self-image wasn't up to it."

"That's a talent. I remember, yes. Did your brother..?"

"No," she said, before he could finish, "he's still in the veterans' hospital."

"Ah. I'm sorry to hear that." Thompson had been her science teacher for the last two years of school. She had always liked him. "I always hoped you'd go on to college," he added, "but I don't suppose you had the chance."

"No... No, I've been working in the Wizard's Well at Gemini Park until recently." She grinned. "Now I'm kind of teaching."

Thompson gave an intrigued smile. "Oh? Which school? What subject?"

She laughed. "I work with the New Vigilants, teaching kids teamwork and staying alive in Paragon City."

The look of surprise was genuine, but mixed with a faint amount of realisation, as if a jigsaw had finally taken shape. "A couple of the big hero fans were going on about a local girl they knew from a shop who had turned out to be a super," he said. "I thought the girl in the picture looked familiar. So, were you just a late developer? Are your powers like your brother's?"

"No, I don't have superpowers, as such. I just learned how to fight and protect myself."

"That's... that's really amazing, Annette. I've always thought the people who go out there without special powers had to have more courage than the metas."

Grinning, Annette sipped her wine. "I think we're just certifiably insane," she replied. Other ex-students were filtering in, a few of them recognisable. "I guess I better mingle," she said. "Can I catch up later? I'd really like to."

"Of course, Annette, though I warn you, I'll be wanting an autograph. My daughter would kill me if I didn't ask."

Annette grinned. "It's yours," she said, and wandered off toward the other guests.

"Annie?" The voice stopped her in her tracks and she turned toward it. "Annette? Is that you?" The woman was tall and slim, well, lanky might have been a better description, with short, blonde hair and no real chest or hips.

"Mel?" Annette responded. "Wow, you got even taller."

Mel, Melanie Brewer, to be correct, grinned. "Side effect of the mutation," she explained. "Humans have their brain all the way up here to help with heat loss, and my brain has a lot of heat to lose." Mel had been 'diagnosed' as a mutant after constant headaches and a long period of treatment for ADD. Her brain operated about five times as fast as a normal human. It had used to be a problem, making it hard to communicate and leading to boredom. Annette, used to a brother who would absent-mindedly crush things if he was not careful, had been one of the few people she could talk to.

"So, what are you doing now?" Annette asked. They had lost touch when Annette had left school. "I seem to remember something about Portal Corp."

"Yup, got a working scholarship with them. Did my degree and doctorate in two years. Working in R&D now." Her grin intensified. "No need to ask what you've been doing. Between the blog and the reports back on some of the recon missions"

Annette found herself blushing again. "You read the blog?"

"Of course. Post more. Your fans want to know what you're up to." She paused, the grin falling away from her face. "I was sorry to hear about your manager."

"So was I," Annette said solemnly, "but let's not get into that tonight, huh? Tell me what's been happening. Start with graduation and end when you walked in here."

"Thank heavens for an eidetic memory," Mel giggled.

They had got as far as Mel's PhD on some form of novel, room-temperature superconductor, and had dragged Mr Thompson into the conversation, when the room fell silent again. Annette looked up to see a tall, buxom brunette walking in on the arm of a gorilla with a crewcut. It was half past nine and Jilly Hewitt was making her entrance, fashionably late. The gorilla was Derek Barlow, who preferred to be called Dirk. He had played offense for the football team and was now making his name in college football. He was expected to go pro. She had, of course, been head cheerleader, and was now also headed for the pro circuit. They had been Homecoming King and Queen, and Annette had hated them.

"Her boobs look bigger," Mel commented.

Annette giggled, the sound rather loud in the suddenly quiet room. Implants, Ni said, there's more silicon in there than BODICIA's core. I think Mrs R is a bit beyond silicon, Annette countered. Still, Jilly's pneumatic chest, barely contained in a deeply V-cut dress, barely moved as she walked. "Oh damn," Annette muttered, "she heard me." Jilly and Dirk were headed straight for them.

"Mel!" Jilly shrieked. "Still a beanpole. Who's your little friend? Is that Annette Barrington?"

Annette had been insulted by experts and taught personal value by Dinah Ewers. She stood up, straightening her back and pushing her chest forward. She was gratified that this made her an inch taller than Jilly, and that it made Dirk's eyes bug out a little. "Yep, that's me. Can't forget you, Jilly." No matter how much you might like to? Annette did her best to avoid smirking by smiling instead.

"Well," Jilly said, "there's a price to fame." There were many times that Annette thanked Dinah for her training, and now, as she read the signs of annoyance in Jilly's body language, was one of those times.

"Oh, Annette knows all about the price of fame," Mr Thompson said. "Care for a drink, Miss Hewitt?"

"You're famous?" Dirk grunted.

"Mostly," Mel said, "for fighting the Rikti army, but she's saved the world once, that I know of."

Somehow, it was a little annoying to be put in the position of one-upping a cheerleader. At least it wasn't her doing the boasting. Let me out, I'll boast her into a puddle on the floor. "I do my bit," she said. "Family tradition."

"Yes," Jilly rallied, "well I'll let you mutants get on with your chatter. Must circulate. Later. Come, Dirk." She marched away, toward a crowd of bubbly ex-cheerleaders, Dirk following after like a stray puppy. Mel's laughter followed them. Even Mr Thompson was chuckling. The victory felt rather hollow to Annette, but she joined in, half-heartedly.

The next hour passed pleasantly enough, though Annette kept catching snippets of conversation and rapidly hidden looks from Jilly's cronies. At least the conversation with Mel, and Mr Thompson, and various others who dropped past from time to time, was friendly and, thankfully, did not involve much about her activities in the War Zone. Mel insisted on hearing about her adventures in other dimensions, but Annette was fine talking about that, and regaled them with stories about worlds where Hydra creatures ruled, or fighting Mother Mayhem in her psychotic asylum.

Then it happened. Mel's eyes saw the ball of flame heading right for her, and her brain had calculated she had no chance of getting out of its way before it was half-way across the hall. Luckily for her, Annette's reflexes were as fast as her brain. Hitting the ground hurt, but a lot less than the fire would have. Mel looked up to see that the fireball had passed just under Annette's outstretched arm.

The room went quiet aside from a scream, and into this space, a boy's voice inserted itself. "Hello, Galaxy High! Didya miss me?"

The owner of the voice swaggered into the hall accompanied by half a dozen T-shirt wearing teenagers, several of them sporting icy or flaming fists. Outcasts, mutants with a chip on their shoulders. Their leader was a red-headed Scorcher Annette recognised with a sense of dread: Michael Turlow. He had left school a year early due to 'peer pressure,' which was to say he thought it was more fun running with street gangs.

"Well," Michael said, grinning as he looked around the silent hall, "I gotta say I was hoping for a noisier welcome. Y'know, a few cheers, a hearty hello? No. No one wants to say 'hi?' I mean, I wasn't invited, but I figure that was just an oversight."

His gaze lit upon Jilly and Dirk, and his grin broadened. "Jilly! We're gonna catch up later, after I get through with Dorky-boy that is." He casually tossed a fireball at Dirk's feet. The big man jumped back with surprising speed, and the blast succeeded in scorching the floor. "No fair, Dorky, I'll get one of my boys to freeze you to the spot for the next one. Hey there, Mister Thompson! Catch!" He drew back his arm once more...

"Micky, Micky, Micky..." Annette wandered out of the crowd, shaking her head. "Micky Turlow, what alley cat dragged you out of Atlas to come down here and cause trouble?" Michael blinked, not believing that anyone would stand up to him. "I mean," Annette continued, slowly closing the distance between them, "here we are having a nice evening for actual graduates ofthis august institution, and you have come in with your goons and stir things up. What's with that? You got issues, Micky? Is that it? I know a couple of good psychiatrists."

"Annie Barrington? That you?" Michael responded, his confidence returning as he identified his opponent. "Hey, you grew up pretty good! Maybe we'll take you to party with as well as Jilly."

Annette grinned a malicious grin. "You wouldn't know what t'do with me, kid. I party with experts. Now take your gang of rejects from the smart gangs and go, before someone gets hurt."

Michael was nothing if not predictable. "Oh, someone's going to get hurt..." His hand drew back again, flame filling it.

"I didn't mean me," Annette said. Her left fist slammed into his chest, blasting the air from his lungs. Then the heel of her right hand smashed upward into his chin, tossing him up and back. He crashed into the ground gasping for breath. There were a series of thumping noises, half-covered by Michael's heaving breaths.

"Boys," the Outcast gasped, "get her!" Only then did he actually look, discovering that his 'boys' had been replaced by a single, blonde woman who was brushing dust off her outfit.

"Hi, Lin," Annette said, "glad you could make it."

"Hey, Babe," Linda Lee replied. "I was worried I'd missed all the fun, but I see I got here for the floor show." A howl of protest from one end of the hall drew everyone's attention to the rock-clad Outcast hanging from one of the basketball hoops. "Oops," Linda muttered, "may have kicked him a bit hard."

"We'll get to him in a minute, love." Annette grinned down at Michael. "Hello, Micky, do you want to walk out, or should we get a stretcher?"

"Y-you're a hero?" Michael stammered.

"Hell no," Annette replied, the grin becoming a smirk, "I'm more of a warrior." She stabbed a finger at Linda, who was walking up behind him. "She's the hero, and believe me, if you're opting for the stretcher, she's the one you want t'fight."

Michael Turlow bolted. His scrabbling feet made amusing swishing noises on the smooth floor and then he finally overcame inertia enough to run forward. Right into Linda's roundhouse kick.

"Could've been worse," Annette commented to Michael's unconscious body. "I'd have kicked you in the chest, and we're both wearing heels."

Someone started clapping. Others quickly joined in and soon the two heroes were surrounded by people thanking them. Jilly's walking out in a huff, Ni told Annette. Her fan club defected.

Later, with the crowd thinning and the Outcasts carted off in a PPD containment van, Annette sat quietly at the back of the hall with Linda, Mel, and Mr Thompson, listening to her lover chat with her old friend and her teacher. Mr Thompson, it turned out, was a big Liberty Girl fan. He claimed he was a sucker for patriotic blondes, but Ni was fairly certain he had fallen for her legs. Discovering Linda had a girlfriend had not phased him in the slightest. In fact, what Annette had feared most, that her private life would unsettle her friends, had been shrugged aside by Mel. "Hell, I'm straight and I'd date either of you."

"I think," Mr Thompson said, "that the school can be proud of this year's graduates. Even if only for Annette and Mel."

"Hell yeah!" Linda agreed. "Portal Corp researcher and a girl that's saving the world. Can't get better than that."

Annette chuckled. "I'm a cliche said.

"Huh?" Linda said.

"Fat kid grows up into hero and model, and then becomes the belle of the school reunion ball. Molly Ringwald should play me in the movie."

"Isn't she getting a bit old to play nineteen?" Mel supplied.

Annette dismissed the objection with a wave of her hand. "Amazing what you can do with make-up."

"But she's ginger?" Linda stated, horrified.

"Jennifer Garner?" Annette suggested.

"She has that puffy lips thing," Mr Thompson said, shaking his head.

"You can play yourself," Linda stated in a manner that suggested argument was futile. "And I'll play me, because I'm not letting you kiss anyone more attractive than me."

"Would someone get me some wine to go with the cheese," Annette replied, grinning. They laughed, then they talked. And finally, they helped Mr Thompson lock up.

Edit to fix stupid text transposition error.

I'd bug it in game, personally. Nothing will happen saying it here.

Not really sure what you mean, but I've had no trouble defeating Heracles solo recently, and have then received the ring. Haven't tried it since I13, I guess. Perhaps it's bugged.

This so needs to go in the frequently suggested thread. GR, if you're reading this, please put Danger Rooms in the frequently suggested thread.

Given that it couldn't be a danger 'room' I think that the best we could expect would be the ability to put Arena and Mission Architect consoles in bases.

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Of course, none of this makes much difference because Regen is now the most worthless PvP build ever thanks to the -regen property of travel suppression.

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But... since PvP is a minority sport also, that makes Regen perfectly good for most people.

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Whilst nice in theory, I'm not entirely sure such a system would work in a Super hero game. By definition, a character is pretty much defined by their abilities and how they came by them, so I can't imagine why a fire blaster would want to forget how to shoot fire and suddenly shoot electricity instead.

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That's because you're thinking in terms of trainable skills. Most of the superhero PnP games operate on an xp points sytem where you earn xp, and use that to buy up power in whatever skills or abilities you have, or gain a new skill or ability. Gnerally, it 'costs' more to gain a new power than to increase an old one. Superhero games often require a thematic approach to the additional powers you can gain as well.

It's all doable. Frankly, it's been done, it's just that very few MMOs have ever broken out of the D&D mold.

I think it went something like:

D1: These Arenas will be a godsend to roleplayers. They'll love them.
D2: Yeah, we'll have to do something about that, Arenas are for PvP.
D3: I know, we'll ban emotes!
D2: Brilliant! They'll hate that.
D1: I think I'll go soak my head...

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The level system is a time proven system for dealing with that problem. You can try to invent a new wheel or just use the existing one.

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PnP games manage fine and have been doing so for years. Traveller, a game that goes back about 30 years, had no levels, but was just as challenging as any other.

MMOs are largely stuck in the artificial world of D&D and it's mostly because increasing level gives an obvious feeling of progression through the game.

Could it be that those were the ones unlocked by buying the special edition of CoV? I'm totally guessing here, but that's often a reason why people see different options.

I always totally forget trenchcoats aren't available to new players.

It is a bit silly that the location of the first logical tailor in level sequence is based on the idea that you won't want to change your costume until level 20.

That said, I haven't really had any trouble getting to either the IP tailor, or the Cap one on lowbie characters. It's just inconvenient.

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The ski runs in the Christmas are really REALLY fun. Why are there not more minigames in CoX?

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Probably because, though players always say they love them, they actually see next to no use except when part of an event.

LotRO had a tag game built into it. Never saw it used. Horse races and the like at seasonal events though, they were popular.

Back OT: The one issue with a Wentworths at PD (or another coop zone) is that you'd need both that and a Black Market, doubling the space requirements. Still, I can see PD getting more facilities, though (as Zortel pointed out) the hero zones are fairly lacking in facilities and could do with some effort being put in there.

Go for it. The main point of this one was to have Jason turn up as Indiana Jones with a girl pretending to be Lara Croft because she's seen too many movies. The actual tomb robbing was incidental. I could have done it at a fancy dress party.

I could probably come up with some stupid reasons if you give me a minute...

You've got a ready-made theme tune, it got used at the start of Shrek. 'Allstar' by Smashmouth. Good tune.

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Granite Armour, the signature power of stone tankers, has -fly and -jump. I.e. you can't use superjump with it turned on.

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I pick travel powers based on which one fits the character and/or looks the most fun..

Guess my way of thinking is wrong then eh?

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In a way, GA, yes, it is. You're taking offense at something someone says on this forum (or any other forum). Also, hate to say this, but there was no reason to.

Nice to see you back, btw. Ages since I've seen you around here.

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I cant remember the last time I had to pay for a cossie change and I have ages to go to 57 months.

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I regularly pay for costume changes. I could use up all the free tokens I have one one character pretty quickly seeing as she doesn't wear the same civilian outfit more than twice in a row. Not that it matters, seeing as it'll be a while before I hit 57 months.

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Sirens, last time I checked was 20, SK at 30.

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It would appear that that is correct, yes.

Tomb Raiding for Fun and Profit

The slim figure paused as a current of air stirred her hair. Looking to her left, she spotted a dozen holes in the stone wall. A trap. Poison darts, perhaps, though the venom was likely long gone. She looked down, spotting the row of trigger tiles on the floor. Was it too obvious? Shrugging, she stepped over the tiles.

There was a soft creaking sound. She dropped like a stone as a huge blade slashed through the space her upper body had been occupying. The man standing behind her sighed as one point of the Poesque axe blade embedded itself in his shoulder. "Laury," he said as the blade swung back, "would you mind being a little more careful."

Laury shuffled sideways and stood as the axe swung slowly to a halt. "I don't know what you're complaining about, Jason," she said, "not like you aren't already healed."

"It still hurts. And tell me again why I have to wear the hat and jacket? And the whip? And you know I don't use guns." The outfit made him look like some pulp-era adventurer, and Jason had spent a happy few years around the war years trying to regain full sanity.

"Have you never seen an Indiana Jones movie?" Laury brushed herself off.

"I don't really do movies. I get enough excitement in my normal life." It was not entirely true, the opinion having been formed when the moving picture had been invented. Besides which, if Laury had not dragged him to Iraq, he would have been marking essays on Dark Age magical history. Looking down at the puncture marks in his leather jacket, he could not help but wonder whether that would have been a better option.

"Remind me to buy you the DVDs when we get back." Laury shone her torch down the corridor, looking for additional axe slots or dart holes.

"Okay, I'm dressed as a film character, though I have no clue why, but at least this is vaguely practical. What's with the T-shirt and shorts?" It wasn't just T-shirt and shorts, of course, there were also walking boots and a pair of automatic pistols strapped to her thighs. Her hair, which was long, and brown, was tied into a pony-tail.

"Not into video games either?" She began to advance down the corridor, Jason following at a respectful, and hopefully safe, distance. "I'm dressed as Lara Croft. She's an English aristocrat who raids tombs to find ancient artefacts and defeat the bad guys."

"Of course, the English aristocracy are noted for it." It did make sense, ever since Jason had known Laury, she had been enamoured of the 'fantasy' side of things. She seemed to live her life in films, video games, even some books. If they were going to go digging for ancient artifacts, then she was going to make sure they looked the part.

"Don't be sarcastic, Jason. It doesn't suit you." She stopped at the end of the corridor, peering at the floor.

"Where do you think the British Museum got half its content from. Found something?" He looked down and followed the light as it crossed the stone, showing row after row of pictograms. "Hold the light still, would you?"

"You can read the cute little pictures?" she giggled prettily.

"If you'll recall, you asked me to come with you on this delightful dungeon delve because I was here when they built it." Jason replied, taking his hat off and crouching down to look more closely. "Not that this is Sumerian. One of the Demonic character sets."

"What does it say," Laury asked, swinging the light about again.

Jason took it off her and scanned it slowly over the text. "Is this Lara as much of an airhead as you? It says," he told her without waiting for a reply, "that anyone going further will spend eternity having their soul eaten by Gothmordek the Soul Ravager."

"All those pictures just for that?"

"Well, it gives Gothy his full title. He always was a bit of a show off. Likes puppies." She looked at him. "Really, he has a huge kennel in a corner of Hell. Specialises in punishing people who mistreat dogs. They probably saw all the titles and thought he was mean."

"You," she said, "take all the horror out of dark, ancient crypts."

"I am sorry to have damaged your concept of fantasy reality," he replied wryly. "Shall we proceed?" He flicked the light left and right, and took the left branch.

"How do you know which way? You can't be remembering it." She waited with her hands on her hips, chest thrust forward defiantly.

Flicking the light at the wall, Jason revealed a small panel of markings. "'This way to the tomb,'" he read.

"And you believe it?" she asked incredulously.

"At this point, if you were dumb enough to continue, they were happy for you to run to your fate." He shone the light down the corridor to an elaborate stone archway at the end. "Additionally, they would not waste that on a fake."

The walked slowly down the tunnel, Jason stopping them a few feet from the arch. Close up, Laury could see a dull, red glow coming from the stone. No, rippling over the stone like a fluid. She wondered what it looked like to Jason. "What is it?" she asked quietly, as if it might hear her.

"It's a demon gate," he replied. "And no, not a gate demons come through, it's a gate made out of a demon."

"You're kidding," she said. Almost involuntarily she edged closer, peering at the stone arch. The red fluid-light shimmered and seemed to shift toward her and she lurched back. "It's alive?"

"Demons have no fixed form, really," he said, nodding. "They have a shape they prefer, but when summoned they often conform to the expectations of the summoner. A skilled demonologist can make use of that in creative ways. In this case, if you don't know the correct pass-phrase, the demon rips your soul out."

"Right... And you know the phrase?"

"No but there's more than one way to skin a demon." He reached into his satchel and took out a notebook. Flipping pages, he found what he was looking for and recited a series of sounds, which Laury thought sounded like a mammoth clearing its throat. The light flickered and died. "There, that should hold it for a few hours." He marched on into the chamber beyond and Laury followed quickly.

This was it, the final room in their quest. Jason scanned the torch over the place, finding a lot of naked stone and one stone throne upon which was sat a tall skeleton still showing a few traces of the armour it had worn when it was placed there. Resting across the arms of the throne, with a skeletal hand still gripping the hilt, was a sword. It was in perfect condition, the blade unmarked by rust, even the leather grip was intact.

"Why don't these skeletons dislocate when the flesh rots?" Laury asked, quite reasonably.

"In this case, because the sword is holding it together. You remember the legend?" He looked at her like the college professor he currently was.

"Yeah," she replied. "The sword makes you invulnerable. Didn't work for him."

"Most die if you cut their head off," Jason replied. "It took an entire army to bring him down. And, in the end, it took me and a big axe. After which I created that gate to keep this thing locked up and the locals built the tomb around it."

"You the sword in here?" Laury stared at him. He had neglected to mention that when they had been discussing the legends in the Barrington Club. Jason nodded. "Then why are you helping me get it out?"

"Because you'll use it the way it was intended," he replied. "It was forged to fight evil. Unfortunately, they neglected to screen their candidates for ownership carefully enough." He prodded a finger in the direction of the skeleton. "This guy couldn't handle the power. I'm pretty sure you can, and I hope I'm right."

"Well, yeah, you don't want another one of these running about," she said, her eyes on the skeleton and the sword in its hand.

"Oh, it's not that. I simply don't want to be the one entombing your headless corpse down here. Go on, it has to be you who takes it." He reached out and pushed her forward.

Gingerly, Laury uncurled the stiff, bony fingers and slid the sword free. Her own fingers curled around the soft leather. She lifted the word, momentarily surprised by the weight of it. She raised it until it was point upwards and a flicker of blue flame lit at the very tip. "What's..." she began, but the flame suddenly brightened, shooting down the blade and engulfing her. There was a brief moment of pain, and then the magical fire was gone.

The skeleton on its throne collapsed, spraying bones at their feet.

"It accepted you," Jason said. "The sword, and its power are yours. Unto death, as it were."

The sord felt as light as a feather now. Laury swung it experimentally. She clipped the arm of the throne, raising sparks and shearing off a corner. "Oops! Sorry," she giggled. "So, like, I'm invulnerable now?"

Jason chuckled and started for the gate. "It'll take a while for you to learn to wield the power effectively and," he paused, turning to look back at her, "do you even know how to use a sword? I know can't shoot straight." He nodded down at the twin pistols.

"Well, I, um, did a bit of fencing..."

"Oh great," he said, starting the trek back to daylight, "I've handed one of the most powerful magic weapons of its age over to a novice..." Their voices continued to echo through the silent halls for a while, and then the tomb returned once more to its state of pitch black quiet.

Meh, said this in another thread, but...

I prefer the one-shoulder capes and have them on exactly one costume slot on one alt. Aside from the obvious issues pointed out by dear Edna (see above), I just don't dig the whole cape thing. However, War Crow thought he should have a real 'hero outfit' for special occasions. It's like a dress uniform.

This has some potential, but it's possibly limited. It would probably need to to be BB and I have a sneaking suspicion that a largeish PvP event like this might attract unwanted attention. I'm also less than convinced that the I13 PvP changes do actually make PvP more accessible to non-PvPers.

Please note that opinions expressed above may be influenced by my lack of general energy for anything very much.

Ah, but if you leave it a few levels it's Rikti!

Okay, so they're on a dull cave map, but they've grown up!

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-Cinematics (When they can make one that isnt worthy of Satan )

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It's beyond unlikely that they ever will. Neverwinter Nights (1 & 2) allowed you much greater flexibility in editing, and you could, indeed, build cutscenes. However, doing so required a degree in computing and a very thorough understanding of C coding and 3D geometry.

And, as has been said, all for something not everyone appreciates. I know I find them beyond irritating in an MMO. In a single-player game, where they are used as story continuation cinematics, yeah, but not in an MMO. (Bioware suggested that you never included them in modules designed for multiplayer mode.)

Admittedly, I don't really go for capes. And the capes I go for are the one-shoulder, Vet Reward ones, so lately I haven't even bothered with the cape mission. However, I'd swear the last part was in a cave map last time I did it.

Oh, and Mr Benn did rock, and is still amusing, despite the fact I used to watch it when I was a kid, which is a long time ago.

I'd definately agree that the tailor missions could do with being more interesting. Then again, I'd also like the cape and (especially) the aura missions to be more interesting as well. (At least the cape one has a smidgen of logic too it.)

Both sets of developers seem reluctant to remove the requirement for these, and I've never quite seen why. It's not like they can't have heard the complaints before. At this point, I can only imagine it's apathy, along with 'it ain't broke, don't fix it.'

As fluffy says above me, there is a perfectly good alternative there now.