Soul Train

Soulll Trainn notes that Drake has his back to her, so she activates Repel and Hover, and proceeds to juggle him several miles in the air like a dolphin juggles a beachball. She then nails his ears with an Air Superiority strike and watches him freefall back down.

SPLAT! - Drake Magnus CRATERED. -

Oh dear, he has one hit point left. She deactivates Hover, plummets down to within 10 feet, hovers again, and flicks his forehead with her finger. "Buh-bye."

wonderful tale. the ending was a bit tragic... but you know what? that's what makes for good storytelling - it's not always a fairy-tale ending.

5 stars from me too.

Mistress Ohm REALLY has it in for Clockwork. Especially after she got mobbed by a platoon of Oscillators for no apparent reason. They don't like her... therefore she doesn't like them. Besides, they're robots. She wields electricity. So do they. So she's out to 'disassemble' as many of the cuckoo-clock contraptions as she can find.


Doc Mayhem seems to have a problem with Vazhilok. See, in his world, when you give a bad guy a beatdown, it's considered good form to stay down. Plus those suicide blow-oneself-up attacks are REALLY dishonorable, especially when one doesn't bow to one's opponent first.


Soulll Trainnn doesn't really have a nemesis group yet.... But, her 'alter ego' has had problems in the past with the Skulls and the Lost, so she tends to be a bit more hair-trigger around those groups, basically as 'payback' for when she was just another helpless victim to them.

Latasha Gibson was tired of being a target.

She had been ripped off twice in her apartment complex in the Gish. She’d been pick pocketed once on the monorail to her workplace in Steel Canyon. And she got catcalls every day from thugs, as she walked two blocks from the station to the lab. Being a strikingly tall African American, she got lots of attention, and a lot of it she enjoyed… from people she trusted. But when a Skull or a Hellion started heckling and making crude references, she tended to get nervous.

The only refuge she had was her music, even if it was a bit outdated. She was the only one in her complex that watched Soul Train every evening. Shoot, she recorded it on days she had classes. TiVo was a blessing, much better than her VCR.

So it was this morning on the way to work – one after another, she got taunted, propositioned, cursed at, and to cap it off, some nameless thug decided to go for a kiss. Horrid! She still felt his rough hands on her even now, as she readied yet another run on Dr Gottleib’s 'Hyperkinetic Muon Damper'. Preoccupied as she was, she forgot to toggle 2 out of the 5 safety locks on the device, and as a result, when it was activated for a data calibration, some of the energy bombarding the test sample also bombarded the room she was in.

Alarms immediately sounded, and the device automatically went into a shutdown mode… but you can’t just turn off a linear particle accelerator. So she got approximately 45 seconds worth of exposure to energy that, theoretically, dampened the energy level of specific subatomic particles, “muons” as they were called, that were thought to be key components in how objects carried momentum or were subject to inertia.

Per expected protocol, men in hazmat suits escorted her to the infirmary, where she was scanned, prodded, poked, MRI’d, and generally made a fuss over… but all tests came up as normal.

So, with a scolding about the safety protocols fresh in her ear, she was sent home for the day, supposedly to rest and recuperate after a scare, but tacitly, it was also a reprimand.

So, as she stepped across the street from the monorail station, her iPod playing Erykah Badu's cover of "Funky Nassau" ... who should be waiting outside her apartment building than two familiar Skull thugs.

“Hey sweetie, wanna have some fun?” Bruno, the larger of the two, wore a red doo-rag on his shaven head, and the traditional Skull facepaint, along with a leather vest and black baggy jeans.

“C’mere and give me some sugar?” Edge, slightly less stocky, but just as mean, had on his usual wifebeater t-shirt, and leather pants. He was acting comically affectionate, but Edge had a rep in the area as being one mean dude.

Her response was to shake her head.

“Hey Bruno, looks like this one doesn’t want to play with us. I say we play anyway.” With that, Edge pushed away from the telephone pole he was leaning on and –snickt!- a switchblade appeared in his hand.

Uh oh. Edge is in a taking mood… and when he brought out his namesake, people got hurt when they resisted.. sometimes they got hurt anyway. This was looking worse than just a mugging or a few catcalls. These guys wanted her, plain and simple.

Latasha put her hands up to shield her face, and started to back away. As she did this, her hands started to glow, first purple, then blue.

“What the fuuu….? Heads up, Edge, she’s a paranormal!”

It was too late. An obsidian purple bolt of energy erupted from Latasha’s hands, and struck the hapless thug square in the gut. He flew backward as if hit by a car, landing hard on his back, fifteen feet away.

Latasha shook her head to clear it. She’d felt the energy as a wave of tinglyness in her forearms – the release was strangely familiar, although she couldn’t place it. But now both thugs were on their feet, and Bruno fired a gun in her direction. She staggered as the bullet hit her… but it glowed purple as the point contacted her skin, dropping to the street. She felt – connected. To the street, to the cars, to the bullet, and specifically, there was something about these thugs she could… there!

A greenish glow surrounded first Bruno, then her. He wobbled a bit, fatigued… and she felt strength return where there was pain before. Ah yes… cells in the human body have kinetic energy too. Energy she could bleed off, and steal for herself. And she could feel it now. All those atoms, all those subatoms, millions, billions of them… all zipping around in their little preset dances… waiting for her to reach out and tweak them.

And tweak them she did. She gathered pure kinetic force from the matter around her, slowing it all just slightly, yet in doing so, another strange glow enveloped her. This one persisted, orange-ish, as the air around her was accelerated and began to heat up.

Edge, rattled and infuriated by getting dumped on his butt, charged her and took a swipe at her with his knife.

As his hand crossed the threshold of this swirling orange field, a portion of the kinetic energy reacted, knocking him up and back as if he’d been swatted by a giant’s hand. She felt the impact secondhand, realizing that this would cost her eventually as the field took some of HER stamina and endurance as a form of feedback. But no matter… she was in charge!

“HA!! Finally, I can meet you no-good punk-a** bi***es on your own terms!” With that, Latasha ran full tilt at Bruno, who was bringing his gun up to bear again on this 20-something woman, who’d up until today had been timid, unassuming, an easy mark. As she stepped within reach, he too was sent flying, landing in a dumpster across the street, out cold.

“Hey Edge! C'mere, gimme some sugar, baby!!” Latasha brought her hand up, her extended middle finger glowing purple.

Edge realized he was outclassed. He legged it down the street and around the corner, a blue-purple bolt of energy tagging him in the seat of his pants as a parting gift.

Latasha looked around her. Well, Dr. Gottleib must have been at least partly correct. Muons DID control some aspects of inertia and kinetic force. But, they didn’t need to be dampened. Instead, they were most useful when released from their theoretical subatomic ‘orbits’ and directed.

Now, what would Don Cornilius think of all this? Perhaps that logo of his, the Soul Train, could bring some equality to the streets as well as to the music scene? She had a lot of soul… and with these newfound abilities, she could hit like a train. Why not?

"Yeah, them lowlifes better clear the tracks, cos check what's comin' through.... the Soulll Trainnn!!!!"

A few more:

Doc Mayhem is a bit older, an 'ex-hippie' so he's more likely to listen to older 60-70's rock n roll and blues. That said, he REALLY likes stuff like "hell in a bucket" or "throwing stones" by the "Dead" -- altho' these Phish guys are definitely worth checking out... he's also into EARLY Tangerine Dream (the pre-Private Records "new age" stuff, thank you very much), Alan Parsons, and other soundtrack-sounding lite rock. Mellow guy... usually.

Mistress Ohm is into more industrial or techno sounding music... even though it doesnt' QUITE fit her powers, Rammstein's "Feuer Frei!" is one of her faves. She also likes Crystal Method's "Busy Child", pretty much anything by Fluke... the theme from "La Femme Nikita" (Mark Snow) is a nice tidbit she likes too.


Soulll Trainnn is ALL about funk, blues, and hip-hop.

Hey my name's Doc Mayhem, a level 8 Mutant Kat/Drk scrapper, otherwise known as Geoffrey Callahan. I'm a 50-year-old Kendo master, dojo owner, and ex-hippie, into philosophy discussions, Tangerine Dream, yoga, and beating the **** out of ne-er-do-wells. If you like your partners well-aged, handsome, virile, energetic, and bedecked with a ponytail, give me a ring. I reside on Victory server.

Oh yes, there's no need for chemical aids such as Cialis. Tantric Yoga is much more effective, and all natural, won't interfere with your powers in untoward ways either. (winkwink, nudgenudge!)

Whoo! good to see that RP is alive and well in this game.

And yes, it is a bit, uhm, tricky, to roleplay thru typing. I'm one of the faster typists out there, but I DO have to 'look at the keyboard' which means I can't roleplay and fight at the same time! Oh noes!

And by far my biggest pet peeve with RP situations is this:

Ye're tryin' right hard t' maintain a character with an accent, 'cept there's some joker that's near complete convinced 'e's knowin' moore aboot the way the accent works than ye do! Or 'e come oot and tells ye thet the spellin's off, or thet the grammer is an insult... give ye right mind to administer a good sound drubbin', it does!

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One example is a small constuct I had, who was just gaining sentience(as part of background) but only could communicate in binary. Which I did...

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One hopes you used a few emotes along with the 0's and 1's... oh wait, just achieved sentience... emotional responses? Uh, nevermind.

Still, would be interesting to try and roleplay chars that had 'interesting' speech patterns or whatnot. I suppose you'd have to be in with a very patient and understanding group to maintain it tho', esp. if you didn't have Teamspeak or some other voice chat app.

Like many, I was into RPG's long before this whole MMO thing started... but when it did, wham! there went my free time. Used to play a lot of Marvel Super Heroes (omg someone mentioned the Evil Empire in this thread, BURN HIM!!) but that went by the wayside when I discovered Rifts.

Anyways, to the characters:

Doc Mayhem (mutant scrapper, katana and dark armor) - This is actually a bit of an inside joke, as far as the character is concerned. He's a 50-something ex-hippie with the ability to channel the Darkforce, and a LOT of Kendo training. Very much a dichotomy type character - usually very mellow, almost pacifistic... but at the same time, willing to 'kick [censored] and chew bubblegum' when the need arises.

Soulll Trainn (science mutated Defender, kinetics and energy powers) - Imagine Aretha Franklin's attitude, Grace Jones' physique, and a playbook straight out of a bad 70's blaxploitation movie. The 'soul' powers (healing, defense leech, power leech, etc) she uses to keep her and her team standing, and the "train" (force) powers are used to 'knock those no-good punk-*** off the ******* tracks!' She's a bit of a hothead... given a choice between pulling one bad guy with a carefully placed Force Blast, and aggro'ing the whole bunch with a Repeller field (that's her "Soul Train" attack, run through them with Repel up and send them all flying...) she'll aggro everybody! She's got a heart of gold, but a WHOLE lotta attitude!

Mistress Ohm (Tech blaster, Elec/Elec) - This is what happens when you take an extremely bright and playful young lady, and outfit her with some SERIOUS toys. Her motto: "Resistance is... Interesting!" (Think certain fetishes... she could very easily be a villain, if she wasn't such a good person at heart. She DOES enjoy tormenting thugs though... "I'm sorry, sweetie, did I have the TENS unit turned up too high??") Haven't done much thinking as to why she's a hero instead of a dilletante... mostly she's into the whole vigilante business because, well, it beats testing devices under ... laboratory... conditions... besides which, once her fellow grad students found out WHAT she was building and monkeying around with, she ran short of 'volunteers'...

"Oh well, I guess we'll just have to test the superconducter wristbands out on some punk stealing purses!!" -giggling-

Yah well, so far I limit the 'voice acting' to typing with a dialect... makes it hard tho, cos there's always something going on.

I suppose for a lot of heroes, this gets to be routine. But coming from someone who's spent most of his life running a dojo, waking up one morning and deciding to be a hero is a bit, well, unique.

Well, OK, the decision wasn't made one morning over coffee. It was made when the doc told me that "if it hadn't been for your mutated genes, you'd have been a disabled wreck from MS in your thirties."

Me, a mutant? Hardly. I'm just fit. I've been studying Kendo for decades. And yes, my siblings all have various nervous disorders, MS, Parkinson's, etc. But now the doc is saying that MY nervous disorder is actually beneficial, and therefore a mutation?

Whoa. That's some heavy information, man.

I had to listen to a couple of Jerry Garcia albums to get back into my normal laid-back aging ex-hippie mindset.

Then I went to the dojo, and got into some practice matches with a couple of my top students. Then three. Then five. Then seven. At that point, I ran out of students.

And I beat them. No, I didn't just beat them. Those poor kids will have bruises for weeks, all from getting thwacked by ONE bokken sword.

At that point, I decided, enough playacting. I might just be good enough to actually do some difference.

So, what do I do, I stroll down to City Hall, and fill out the requisite forms to become a "Licensed Vigilante". Checked "Mutant" on the form so's everyone would know, yah, I got a wierd neural disorder, it doesn't impair my nerve functions, it improves them.

I'm not kidding. I've got reflexes like a cat. Shoot a gun at me, I can see the bullet coming. Swing at me from behind, I can feel the shockwave of the air off the bat. It's wierd, but when I'm in 'the Zone', all I KNOW is what my opponents are doing, where they are, and to an extent, what they're planning to do. I can't read minds, but I can sense body language and movements, 'tells' that precede an attack.

Once I had the paperwork filled out, the med exams finished, the insurance policy purchased (yeah, they make us buy insurance... 'collateral damage insurance' they call it)... I'm picking up a new gi and belt from the tailor. Always liked the color blue for some reason.

And as soon as I walk out the door with the outfit on, sword in the scabbard across my back, I hear a shout.

"Shut up lady, just give us the purse!"

Hellions. I've had to chase them away from my dojo for years. Some of my students have gotten pretty good at using them as practice targets, but up until now, I've had a live and let live attitude, long as they stay away from my door, I ignore them.

But not today.

"Hey! Yeah you! Leave that woman alone, or perhaps you'd prefer to see how an old hippie can bust your buns over a purse!"

"Shaddup, ya stoner! This is OUR turf."

"Correction. It WAS your turf. Now it's mine. You want it back, perhaps? I'm standing right here."

With that, two of the thugs charged, whipping out hatchets and baseball bats, while the third smirked and pulled out a submachine gun. That meant he was the immediate threat - these other boneheads might get in some decent blows, but a lucky shot from that gun...

I leaped over the heads of the two onrushing goons, landed in front of the gun-toting purse thief, and bashed his nose with the hilt of my now unsheathed katana sword. As he staggered backwards, I laid out two swipes to his midsection. The grating feel of the blade let me know he was wearing Kevlar, so the first cut didn't lay him out... but the next one nicked him in the armpit, and he began to bleed.

"You old &^%#*!! I'll KILL YOU!"

(Whups, you just tagged Moe for first blood, but Larry and Curly are still around... dodge that bat swing, here comes the axe... oh no, he's too close!) I rolled left, taking the shot on the padded shoulder of my gi. The blow would raise a hefty bruise, and I could feel the muscles in my arm tense up, leaving me slower and less able to defend myself on that side, but it wasn't lethal.

The next swipe of the blade nicked the thug on the wrist, sending the gun spinning away, and further enraging the punk. He tried to land a haymaker on my face, but he missed... and a second shot to his forehead with the sword hilt laid him out cold.

"Oops. Looks like your bro's taking a nap, dudes. Care to join him?"

The punk with the bat blanched, and bugged out. The other grinned. He was the one who'd tagged me before. "So what, old man? You ain't invulnerable, just fast. And I can take fast." SWISSH! another axe swing at my ribs, but this time he missed.

"Oh I'm sure you can take fast. But can you take sharp and pointy?" With that, I unleashed a two-hand diagonal slash that sliced the axe handle in two and laid a red bloody line from his ribs to his opposite shoulder. "Oo, we better get you some Bactine for that cut, eh youngster?"

"Haha. Cute. You'd be funnier with your nose missing though." I barely ducked in time to avoid getting bonked on the head by half an axe handle. Wait, what's this? Mister Baseball is back in the game, from behind?? How universally uncool, man. Pivot, slash, follow thru... yes, he now has one less hand operable... those tendons will be work to repair in the prison hospital, not to mention shock from blood loss. Sidestep, feint... dodge the ineffectual swing from the one remaining thug... and tap him upside the head with the flat of the blade, ring his ears good. He drops, moaning and shaking his head.

"Thanks for the workout, boys. Now, here's some nice cops to take you downtown."

I strolled off, after cleaning the sword with a handkerchief and sheathing it, trying hard to ignore the muscle aches and the buzz of adrenaline.

So, this is what being a hero feels like.

TOTALLY righteous, man. Maybe this will work out after all...

ProfessorBlues: Theme song from Get Smart

Mistress Ohm (electrical blaster): Fluke "Absurd"

Doc Mayhem: Blue Man Group "Time to Start" (Rock Concert Movement #19 - Getting Your Keister Kicked In The Mosh Pit... Ready? Go.)

Soulll Trainn: pick any 70's Detroit funk song you like, she's into it...

So, here's a Screenshot question:


Is it possible to turn OFF the standard Windows 'copy to clipboard' screenshot, and only have the game do the save to the screenshots folder? If the game's gonna save me a graphic file anyway, I don't see the sense in eating a big chunk of RAM for the clipboard contents... RAM that would be better served running the game!

I'm figuring it's some (probably not so) obscure / command someplace... but haven't found it yet.

Thanks!