Steelclaw

Reasons the Knives of Artemis may accept a male into their ranks:

* Target practice.

* The "Women Are Superior In Part Because None Of Our Internal Organs Are On The Outside Of Our Bodies" groin kick demonstration during basic training.

* Some of the Commanders got to talking to Carnie ladies about the many uses of bucket-heads.

* Killing spiders and lifting of heavy objects.

* Words to strike fear in any man's heart: P.M.S. Counsellor

* Caltrop sharpness tester

* "A male? We can change that..."

Things I wonder about while I play...

* If CoH Civillians are immune to falling damage... why are there railings?

* Does the Paragon American Kennel Club ONLY recognize German Shepherds as an official breed?

* Do Praetorian characters only go up to 20th level because the Enriche Corporate office refuses to allow beverage competition from the Well of the Furies?

* If Statesman is going to die... can I have all his stuff?

* Why does he live on an island filled with sychophants, toadies and hangers-on... yet still call himself Recluse?

* If there are NO heroes around to save them why do the civillians in the Rogue Isles seem LESS fearful of villains than their Paragon counterparts?

* If the news guy in front of the train station was just going to yell out to everyone passing about the possibilities of time travel... then why did they Entrust him with the Secret?

* Why does Percy Winkley have a poster of Darrin Wade over his bed?

* Shouldn't anyone with the Time Manipulation power set get Entrusted with the Secret automatically?

* If you get Time Manipulation does that mean you can help me get my Blu-Ray player to stop flashing and tell the correct time?

* After an entire play session of keeping an eye on it... just exactly why DO they call it the Help Channel?

* Why does the Paragon Municipal government use the Free Farm system? Wouldn't food stamps have been easier? And... judging by the number of people I see begging for it... is the Free Farm system capable of feeding everyone who needs it?

* Since they're just over-enthusiastic LARPers anyway... What would happen if you yelled "Critical Fumble!" just as a Warrior began his swing?

* Where do Freakshow shove the batteries that keep their suits running?

* Why do you have to hit Sally TWICE before you believe?

* So now Sister Psyche has a voice in her head that constantly tries to usurp her control, get her in trouble and generally ruin her life... and this is different from most women... how?

* If Fusionette and Percy Winkley ever had a kid... would anyone ever be able to find it? And if they COULD find it... would it be an honorary MAGI vault guard since birth?

Last year I felt the exact same way you do about the Ski slopes. (The bobsled slopes I've always had no problem with) Then I sat down this year and my very first attempt at the ski slope earned me the gold.

No idea what changed.

I use Ninja Run.

Here's one little thing I do that might help you out a little bit... I draw the camera back to a good distance above my character. This gives me the largest field of view possible and allows me to look ahead to the next gate when I'm just passing through the current one.

Also I've found that using the mouse to steer is an absolute must.

During the Great Rikti War of 2002, Lena Elliot, the heroine known as Swan, had had a life changing moment. She had been walking through one of many hundreds of army tents set up for triage purposes when she’d come across a small boy of no more than six years old. He had been kneeling next to one of the cots the injured were lain on until a doctor could see them, holding the hand of the woman that lay still atop it. The woman was dressed in what had once been brightly colored spandex, but was now torn and bedraggled from her efforts against the Rikti.

The boy had looked up as Swan approached and she had been surprised to see his eyes were burning, blue whisps of eldritch energy curling out from under his lids to gather and boil against the shelf of his brow. He sniffled loudly and turned back to gaze at the still form of the woman whose hand he held.

“She’s sleepin’,” he said in a voice that drooped with exhaustion. “She’s been fightin’ rickities all night an’ she needs to take a nap. I’m takin’ care of her until she wakes up.”

But Swan had known differently. Her tentative psychic reach into the woman’s mind had revealed nothing. The boy’s mother, the heroine known as Slipstream, was dead.

Luckily they had found the child’s father, a non-powered man who, as a firefighter, was no less heroic than the boy’s mother. But it still got Lena to thinking of how many new orphans would be left behind by this war. The foster system would be able to handle the majority of it, but what of the super-powered children? What foster family would be comfortable accepting a child who could lift their couch over his head when throwing a tantrum? How could normal foster parents hope to understand the unique challenges of raising a meta-human?

Lena Elliot had lost her own parents when she’d been an adult, her mother and father kidnapped by the evil 5th Column. She had been lucky enough to have them by her side all throughout her childhood, but still she felt that loss keenly and she could relate to the problems these new orphans would face.

With her family’s wealth and political connections, after the war Swan dedicated herself to the creation of the Slipstream Memorial Asylum, Sanctuary and Hospice. While it had initially started as an orphanage for super-powered children its role soon expanded to include any child who had powers and found themselves unable to adapt well to the public school system because of them. While Swan’s hero duties kept her from doing more than attending board meetings once a month, she still kept an active hand in the school. Not a single staff member was hired, from Janitor to Principal, who was not personally interviewed by her.

Given her reputation of using psychic powers during said interviews, many applicants withdrew from consideration the moment this was explained to them.

Three months after the car accident found Jennifer wandering the grounds of Slipstream Memorial, which all the other kids called SMASH for short.

It was lunch time and most of the students and staff were crammed into the cafeteria, screaming to be heard above the din. As today’s meal choice was either rectangular pizza slices or grilled liver and onions, a fair number of them were resorting to use of their powers to get the better grub first.

Since the deaths of her parents Jennifer hadn’t had much appetite. Even Ten Cheese Beef Tacos, her absolute favorite of favorites, could no longer tempt her to do more than nibble. She also found she didn’t like crowds or noise. This, of course, made her case worker… or “Personal Care Counselor” as the woman called herself… very concerned. They would spend hours talking together about her feelings, how she was handling her new classes, if she were making friends and, of course, all the endless discussions of her parents’ deaths.

Jennifer had considered lying to the woman, who had the unlikely name of Abinia Abbernathy, but decided the effort just wasn’t worth it. The truth was Jennifer felt nothing. It was as though someone had snuck up on her while she slept and jammed a shovel into her, digging out the part of her that used to feel anything. There was hole inside her where her parents used to be… where her heart used to be.

Abinia had told her this was a normal part of the grieving process and that it would eventually pass. Jennifer wasn’t sure she wanted it to. Feeling nothing wasn’t fun, of course, but it was better than what she thought might be hiding INSIDE the hole. There was a creature inside the hole where her heart had been. It was a creature of misery, pain and rage; all claws and poison quills. If that raging, ravening beast was Grief then she didn’t want it to ever be loose.

Better to feel nothing than feel what that thing might do to her.

So, rather than not eat in a room full of chattering super kids, she’d decided to take a walk outside. Since it was a gray, slightly dreary day, she had expected to be the only one out in the yard. It turns out she was wrong on that point.

Jennifer turned a corner into one of the many alleys the convoluted architecture of the building formed, when she heard a voice.

“Please do not endeavor to emulate the behavior of our hygienically challenged acquaintance,” the voice was young, male and a touch exasperated. “The extrusions and evulsions resulting from entering that waste receptacle will certainly settle into your dermal covering. The resulting olfactory malaise will surely torment you and those within proximity for the foreseeable future.”

She had considered turning and walking away, but the pure confusion of trying to translate what the boy was saying into human tongue distracted her. She didn’t want to be around others, but by the time she remembered that it was too late.

She stood in the center of the alley entrance. The boy with the gift of garbled gab was the first one she spotted. He sat on the edge of the kitchen’s loading dock, swinging his legs back and forth. He was thin with shaggy blonde hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in several days at least. He wore wire rim glasses over eyes the color of a glacier’s secret heart. His tee shirt had a picture of the Warner Bros cartoon character Wile E. Coyote on it, with the caption “Yes, you may refer to me as Super Genius.” His jeans were worn and far too big for him, mute evidence they had come from the donation bin. As his feet swung, Jennifer noticed he was wearing two different color socks.

“Rico, don’t crawl into the dumpster,” another voice drew Jennifer’s attention. “The gunk inside will get on your fur and you’ll stink for weeks.”

“I just said that,” from the thin boy, sounding vaguely annoyed.

The second boy was as different from the first as it was possible to be. Although he looked to be the same age as the first, he had a much more athletic build. Also, where the first boy was pale and blonde, the second was deeply tanned with hair so black it seemed intent on sucking the light from the very air. At twelve years of age, Jennifer had been finding herself becoming more interested in boys and the specimen before her was what she would have classified as “yummy.” At the indignant response from the blonde, the raven-haired boy had smiled broadly, making Jennifer’s heart go pit-a-pat in her chest.

“You really need to learn to speak English like the rest of us, Dak,” he said, laughing. “Isn’t that right Rico?”

“Rico!”

With difficulty, Jennifer tore her eyes from their exploration of that smile to look at the third figure in the alley. She blinked at the sight before her.

Being home to any super powered child who was having problems fitting in gave SMASH’s population a higher percentage than usual of mutants or aliens with a slightly less… shall we say… “traditional” appearance. Rico was apparently one of those children.

Rico was only about three feet tall, though it was hard to tell for sure since he had long legs which he kept folded up to his chest. He had a face that looked like the unholy mating of a bat and a koala bear. His ears were very bat like, tall, pointed and wide from the sides of his head. He was covered head to toe in thick fur; the main coat of which was a pretty lilac color with darker purple striping along his back, arms and legs. He was currently perched on the edge of a large green dumpster, leaning forward and peering down into it with interest. Behind him, a long swishing furred tail stuck out for counterbalance.

As if he could feel the weight of Jennifer’s stare, Rico suddenly looked up. Eyes the color of a fog shrouded landscape under an early morning sun met hers for brief moment before chaos erupted.

“RICO!”

The creature bounded upwards in a single thrust of its long legs. It landed perfectly on the opposite wall of the dumpster, letting its legs recoil beneath it as it’s motion carried it forward as though about to fall off its perch. As soon as Rico was parallel to the ground it launched once more, hitting the ground once halfway between the dumpster and Jennifer then rebounding to hurl directly into the stunned girl’s chest. One second she was up, the next everything was ground, arms, legs and fur.

“Rico! Rico! Rico!”

The thing on top of her was obviously very proud of its achievement because it bounced on her with each chipmunk-toned battle cry.

“Rico you nerd,” a voice, barely able to contain laughter, said from somewhere beyond the purple fur that filled her vision. “Get off her before you crush the poor girl.”

Then her sight was filled with a dazzling smile and eyes that looked like melted chocolate. He grinned at her and reached out one strong hand in an offer of assistance.

“Sorry about fuzz-face there,” he said. “He gets a little over-enthusiastic sometimes. My name’s Trace… welcome to Misfit Alley.”

We now know that Statesman is going to be the one to buy the farm at the end of the current SSA. Fine. Dandy. I can live with that, but the real question is no longer who will die and not even Why will they die..

The real question is "How" is Statesman going to shuffle off the mortal coil?

Here are a few suggestions to the Devs on how the boring ol' shlub... er... I mean how our brave, noble hero could best see his end...

* Blow to the back of the head.

* 93 years of accumulated, impacted red meat... followed by one bran muffin too many.

* Well of the Furies not only no longer notices him... it took out a restraining order.

* Massive heart attack following viewing a naughty video on the internet of what appeared to be himself and Megan Duncan... didn't notice the "imported from Praetoria" disclaimer at video's start...

* Lusca attacked his ship in Independence Port... States had NOT seen enough hentai to know where this was going...

* After years of hiding their love Ghost Widow had finally issued him an ultimatum...

* We're not entirely sure but as Captain Mako was being led from the scene in handcuffs he was overheard to say "tough to chew... but rather tasty"

* The super powered hero Democratean enacted his Policy Power to siphon power from the States and into the hands of the elder hero Captain Federal...

* Lord Nemesis travels back in time and replaces the cup of Well of Furies water in Statesman's hand with a can of Crystal Pepsi just before he drinks it.

* Cast into deepest depression by the death of his daughter, Statesman fakes his own death... years later the world is threatened once more by alien invasion but still he ignores it... a little girl with an adorable and mischievous little puppy stumble upon his secret hide out when escaping from the alien death squads... after a time together she melts the wall of ice around his heart but still he refuses to leave his self-imposed exile... an alien bombing run causes a section of his tunnel network to collapse trapping the girl and her puppy under it... he saves the girl.. but her dog has died... as she sobs in his arms Statesman undergoes a sudden realization... he bursts from his cave like a hero on a mission... a man reborn... ... ... and while the rest of the world's heroes eventually push back the alien forces Statesman pitches the story to Hollywood execs and makes millions...

... oh... and as an afterthought he buys the kid a new dog...

This was before the last deletion, so... alas... this character is only a memory... at least until I re-create her again for the current tournament...

I was running my Fire/Devices Blaster (best blaster combo EVAH).. and was teamed with another blaster... pretty sure it was Energy Blast/Energy Manip... we were doing a "defeat boss and guards" mission and were in the last room on the sewer map where there is the iron walkway along the right and rear walls with the huge machinery block in room's center.

As usual for that room two spawns in the rear right had mingled together so when we aggroed one the other decided to join in for the fun of it... my partner in heroics died and left me to fly far enough away to have them lose interest in pursuit...

While my partner hospital ported and made their way back to the mission I entertained myself... eventually he got back and we tried again with things going wrong pretty quickly yet again... (for future reference combining an AoE blaster with a KB specialist probably isn't the best choice)...

Me: "RUN!"

Him: "only at 1/2 health! we can do this!"

Me: "Run out of the room!"

We ran.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

Him: "What the <bleep!> happened?!"

Me: "While I was waiting for you to get back I planted a half-acre of trip mines by the room entrance"

Isn't it a bit ODD that I announce my actually having a Tournament Structured character reach 50th level is a harbringer of really bad things happening in the near future...


.... and the very next day they announce Statesman is going to die?



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..... just sayin'...

Thanks for the support everyone... I greatly appreciate it!

For those who wanted to know:

Name: D'Shan Steelclaw

Archetype: Scrapper

Power Sets: Claws/Regeneration/Body Mastery with support from Leaping, Fighting and Concealment

Server: Freedom

Current Goals: Slot him out with all my planned Enhancement Sets (gotta love that color purple). FINALLY learn what all this Incarnate stuff is about. Finally be able to make joke lists about said Incarnate stuff now that I'll (hopefully) know what I'm talking about.

Every prophecy of End Times carries with it harbringers of the upcoming Doom. By these portents you may come to realize that the end of the world is upon us.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I bring you news of just such an event.

At 6:49 PM Eastern Standard Time on December 12th, 2011... playing strictly by the rules of my Tournament... one of Steelclaw's characters finally...

... FINALLY ...

... reached 50th level.

I shall now be relocating my computer to the nearest bomb shelter... just in case.

As an unofficial honorary Stooge...

This actually looks pretty good to me. While I greatly respect the classics and no one will replace Curly in my heart (especially Schemp and Curly-Joe)... the routines were pretty dead-on.. the humor translated well to a modern audience and the actors SOUNDED so much like the originals (especially Larry) that it actually spooked me out a little bit.

I might not see it in the theater but it's definitely worth a look see when it comes out for On-Demand.

Darn it all Mercury! You blinked AGAIN!

THIS is why we can't take Solar System Family pictures!

What follows is the first of what I hope will be an on-going, organically growing story. I will add future chapters to this thread to keep everything organized... because lord knows I have these organizational tendencies.

I don't want to give away too much right out of the gate. Let's just say this story follows the careers of a group of super powered children who find themselves in the very grown up world of Paragon City.

Enjoy...

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“Oh, Daddy they do not!” Jennifer Tilman said in between her giggles.

Her father adopted an affronted, slightly teacher-ish expression. “They most certainly do. They lie in wait just under the surface of the water and when people dive in they rush out in a group and try to yank their swimsuit bottoms off.”

In the front passenger seat Jennifer’s mother was trying, without much success, to keep a straight face at her husband’s latest in a long series of skewed takes on reality. Jennifer felt no such compunction towards seriousness and howled in laughter, kicking her feet against the back of her father’s seat.

“I don’t think you’re treating this matter with the proper gravity,” Daniel Tilman said without cracking a smile. “All those poor, unsuspecting swimmers who only thought to get in the water then WHAM! Naked as a jaybird while the lake creatures scurry away with their swim trunks. On the other hand, from a strictly conservationalist standpoint, I suppose the little buggers need to eat too. I’m sure they must fulfill SOME sort of role in the local ecosystem, though for the life of me I can’t see where swimsuits would fall on the food chain.”

Ayahla, Jennifer’s mother, at last gave up the battle and joined her daughter in hopeless laughter at her husband’s antics.

“I’m told they rather resemble itty-bitty, dust sized octopi,” he continued blithely, steering their small car through the heavy end-of-weekend-and-going-home traffic. “I guess that’s why they call them Li’l Luscas.”

They had spent the day at the beach; one of Jennifer’s favorite things to do during the long lazy summer days. The drive to and from was a long one, but never seemed so to Jennifer. She never quite understood when her friends complained about taking trips with their parents. She would try to explain that she enjoyed talking with her parents during the long trips, to which her friends would roll their eyes and adopt expressions hinting that talking to their parents was on the fun scale at about the same level as eating cold spinach straight from the can.

Her father’s insane commentary on the world around them and her mother’s frequent rolling of eyes and role as the sarcastic straight-man were the perfect end to what had been a fairly spectacular day. Though usually a wave-jockey, Jennifer had avoided the water all day, communing instead with the sun and warmth of the sand.

At first she had been afraid the day would turn out badly. Her mother, who often referred to herself as the sole voice of reason in the asylum’s choir, had insisted Jennifer put on sunscreen as soon as they’d spread out the blankets. Jennifer had smeared a small amount on the back of her hand, which she smeared upwards along her forearm when a wave of nausea had swept through her. She had swayed momentarily on her feet. She HATED that queasy feeling; like all at once she could actually feel the world spinning and was motion sick with it.

The feeling passed quickly but she still felt a little odd. Her arm where she’d smeared the sun lotion felt numb; like her tongue had the time she’d gotten that shot at the dentist’s office. She checked to make sure mother wasn’t paying attention and used a towel to scrub the lotion from her arm and hand. She had felt immediately better. When her mother asked if she was had put on the lotion a few moments later, Jennifer had (truthfully if a bit evasively) said she absolutely had.

After an entire day of baking from the sun above and the sand below, Jennifer likely should have resembled a cooked lobster, but had seemingly escaped un-broiled. She bounced in the back seat of their small sub-compact, so full of energy she felt ready to burst.

“The natives are preparing for war, methinks,” her father said in ominous tones.

“Oh? What makes you say that?” her mother rejoined; loyal to her role as straight-man.

“Because they’re beating on their war drums… otherwise known as the back of my seat.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Jennifer said and crossed her ankles in an attempt to cage the nervous energy that was like a living thing within her.

“S’okay pumpkin,” he said, winking at her in the rearview mirror.

They were almost home by now. Paragon City loomed on the horizon, the great sky scrapers of Steel Canyon already visible, tall and proud against the slowly setting sun. They lived in an apartment within the grimy confines of Kings Row, though her father’s recent promotion at work had them all dreaming of changing that circumstances. Her mother’s teaching degree had thus far only earned her the occasional substitute position but there had been nibbles from Hero One Memorial Middle School in one of Paragon’s more upscale suburbs. Fortune, fickle as it usually was, seemed to at last be smiling on them.

Traffic, which had been a congested, slow moving mess thus far, had miraculously eased and the little car finally matched the posted speed limit. Jennifer opened her mouth to begin her daily ritual of dinner’s entrée negotiation with her mother when Ayahla spoke first. The note of concern in her voice silenced her daughter in an instant.

“Daniel, isn’t that truck going a little fast?”

Jennifer’s father glanced to his right at the eighteen wheeler approaching the intersection.

“It’s okay… I have the light.”

They entered the intersection. And the world exploded.

Sound beyond Jennifer’s understanding of the word assaulted her ears. The agonized shrieking of torn metal. The howling of rubber scraped raw over asphalt. The cataclysmic battle cry of impact. The tiny car was hurled, violently thrust sideways, by the unstoppable force of the tractor trailer. The young girl felt the initial strike give way to a moment of reprise. She felt floating and free in that instant and wondered if this was what death felt like… like flying. But the moment ended. The truck had only launched the tiny car into the air and when it landed it began to barrel roll along the street.

The world lost cohesion in Jennifer’s eyes. Colors blended and the lines of demarcation that had always defined objects in her vision broke apart into a chaos of impressions and confusion. The back seat of the car seemed to be growing smaller, the ceiling pressed down against Jennifer’s head, forcing her to bow her neck as though in prayer. The passenger side wall had absorbed the first fatal impact and now cuddled close on Jennifer’s hip.

The car rolled more slowly and was nearly about to settle to a stop, by some miracle upon its tires rather than its roof, when the truck once more caught up with it. It struck the small vehicle on its rear driver’s side corner, right on the tip of the fender. Only now, at this final note in the symphony of destruction, did the brake lights on the eighteen wheeler flicker to life.

The car spun wildly at the last collision, pressing Jennifer back against the ruined remains of her seat. The car skipped like a drunk dancer up onto the sidewalk to crash thunderously into the front of a small grocery store.

Silence.

Jennifer shook her head gingerly. Other than the ringing in her ears from all the noise of the collision and a lingering dizziness from the tumbling and spinning, she felt okay. She didn’t notice that her head was no longer pressed awkwardly against the roof of the car.

“Mom? Dad?”

Outside the car voices were calling out; asking if everyone inside was all right. They weren’t the voices she wanted to hear. NEEDED to hear.

“Daddy?! Mom are you okay?”

Fear began to sink needles in her heart, cramping it, making each beat more painful than the last. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see their faces. Of her mother all she could see was one tuft of mahogany brown hair, riotously curly despite her mother’s best attempts to straighten it. Only her father’s arm was in view between the two front seats; stretched across the space towards her mother as though, even in the madness of the crash, he’d been trying to reach for her. As she stared she could see a single shard of glass, no larger than a splinter, embedded in his wrist. A tiny bead of blood blossomed around it. A diamond in the center of a blood red rose.

“No…” she whispered. “No, please…”

She began to lean forward. She didn’t want to see. Seeing what was in those two front seats was the last thing she wanted to do. But she HAD to see. She HAD to know.

Then hands were on her. Reaching through the shattered back window of the hatchback they curled around her arms and shoulders; drawing her away from answers she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Don’t struggle sweetheart. We’re here to help you.”

“That’s it, hon… don’t try to move on your own… let us move you.”

“I don’t see any lacerations or obvious injuries but get the neck brace on her just to make sure.”

“No… I want to see my parents… Let me see my Mom and Dad!” Helping and gentle or not, she began to fight the hands then. Didn’t they understand? Why wouldn’t they let her see her parents?

Then a face appeared above her. The woman was her mother’s age and had the same warm, always slightly tired look to her. She smiled down at her, but her eyes didn’t join in on the smile. Her smile told Jennifer that her parents were being tended to and that everything was fine. Her smile asked Jennifer questions about how the girl was feeling and if this hurt or that hurt; all the while interspersing promises that she’d see her parents soon. Soon.

Her eyes, however, called her smile a liar.

The world began to break down once more. Those solid lines which had always seemed so immobile, so immutable, ruptured and died. Colors leaked against one another, sending sense and definition into prisms of conflict and chaos. This time, however, it wasn’t the motion of a tumbling car which shattered her sight into this meaningless morass.

This time Jennifer was robbed of sight by her orphan’s tears.

Hmmmm....

Deci - prefix, a defining form meaning "tenth" ie- deciliter would indicate ten liters

Mate - verb, to bring together for breeding purposes

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And they used this to advertise Titan Weapons? Wow... Freudian...

Because my spreadsheets tell me to...

These are the things I've most been looking forward to in this upcoming Event...

* The villainous Glow-Bell Warming once more bending her powers to ensure Rhode Island receives not a single snowflake except for one small section of Croatoa.

* Annual Troll Child catch and release sporting event...

* The "sitting too close to the monitor" motion sickness luge lunger...

* The annual "I still can't find that freaking COW!" snow chalet scavenger hunt...

* The English-as-a-Second-Language Lord of Winter strategy chat... "Why the heck are half of you STILL fighting him?!?"

* Entering my Scrappers and Brutes in the Melee-Mayhem-On-Ice "hit 'em as they pass" Tuatha challenge...

* The Memorial "Grinch Who Stole My Gift Glowie That I Saw FIRST!" snatch and grab event... (I swear the presents should appear in PvP zones just to get those buggers back)

* The "It's been five hours since I last played and I still hear yodelling" sing-a-long.

* The "I bet I know a good way for you to warm up" Role-Play-A-Palooza...

* The "I'll never get tired of Snaptooth" endurance challenge...

Head:

* Mini-Cthulu in Jar
* Miniature Version of the player (same costume as rest of body) in jar
* Tiny head (head hunter from Beetlejuice)
* TWO eyepatches
* Glasses that make your eyes look HUGE
* Groucho fake glasses/nose/moustache
* groomed nosehair moustache
* animated facial twitches
* animated changes of expression (example: from smiling to horror-stricken)
* bubble that slowly grows up from neck before popping and staring over again (with or without a face on it)
* balloon head floating at end of string
* top hat with the top part of it torn back a bit... various things peeking out like eyes, hand, magician's rabbit, etc.
* hair of fire, hair standing on end, static hair with electric current running through it
* cartoon "omg lookit HER!" bugging eyes
* tin foil helmet

Upper Body:

* arrows, spears, bullet holes, knives, meat cleavers, etc all sticking out of character
* "This Space For Rent" chest logo
* "Hero/Villain Union 345" chest logo
* stiff as a board, waaay too much starch cape
* cheerleader pompoms glove item
* stick figure body
* beast fur with ticks and other parasites crawling visibly over it
* spider, tick, leech, etc shoulder pet (attached and feeding)
* miniature version of character shoulder pet (Sitting and waving)
* devil and angel shoulder pets (occasionally whispering in character's ears)
* tiny person/demon/etc holding on ends of cape to keep it around neck and dangling to center of chest
* females could have a cleavage inhabitant... peeking out or waving occasionally
* sweat stains on existing uniform at chest, back or armpit locations
* Aliens chest buster
* swirling black-hole of energy in chest... occasionally spits out items a la Propel
* flashing neon "Eat at Joe's" chest logo
* large toothy mouth where stomach should be

Lower Body:

* bear feet
* fuzzy bunny slippers
* dozens of tiny creatures/men under feet carrying player on their backs/shoulders
* toilet paper hanging off foot/back of pants
* "Booty-licious" err... bottom... logo...
* ski boots (including the patented ski-boot unbendable ankles walk)
* flies like the aura... but localized to just behind character's rear end
* rhinestone chaps
* small child hanging on to leg screaming for a toy (holiday themed costume set)
* backwards facing feet with scars at ankles

A sneak peek at what the rest of us poor slobs who don't live within (semi-)easy travel distance of the Summit will be missing today:

* Zwillinger's Private "Hat's Only!" Costume Contest...

* Beastyle's lecture on "Why a Pokemon MasterMind would not (technically) violate copyright laws..."

* The start of Positron's maddened tri-state hair shaving spree...

* Announcement: In order to open the Solo Incarnate Path you must first perform a special trial/task force... with a three team member minimum.

* Zwillinger, Beastyle, TheNet, Freitag and Arbiter Bacon do a team DDR competition on stage... signed as next big Boy Band by a major record label.

* Samuraiko arrested for assault and battery in her efforts to "convince" War Witch to make creation of a "filming" emote a top priority for the company.

* The Net trying to explain away the bodyguards he hired to keep any potential fan-girl hordes at arm's length.

* Police perimeter around event checking identification of everyone entering in an attempt to enforce the restraining order the Devs have on Steelclaw.

* Small table taking orders for "Scarves for Heroes" with all proceeds going to various children's charities... followed by the fed ex delivery of said orders to one very startled Llydia who had no idea it was happening...

* Second Measure gives a surprise demonstration of upcoming animals (combat and non-) that will be available for players... things get out of hand when the bear and wolverine "demonstration models" escape from their cages.

* Avatea forcibly restrained after fielding her 78th "booth babe" comment... During this she reveals several more languages in which she's fluent... or at least fluent in their curse words...

* Several people require medical treatment for dehydration and exhaustion after attending one of Zwillinger's lectures where his tangents got totally out of hand...

Do you want to rate my avatar?
She's a star...
And she's thankful for all the things you are...
Want to rate my avatar...

Pixar has never let me down... I look forward to this one with keen anticipation...

However...

I can't help picturing Cartman dressed in a kilt with Braveheart face paint on... standing in a windblown field of tall grass... the wind shrieks, Cartman closes his eyes against its fury... and when it stills the red-haired girl from Brave stands before him... defiant.

"So... a soulless ginger challenger appears..." Cartman says and they charge.

Today, armed with only a Raptor Pack and his Bag of Infinite Watermellons... the new Arch-Villain known as Steelclaw invaded Atlas Park.



If I am a winner, I permit NC Interactive, Inc. and NCsoft Europe Limited to use my name, likeness, photograph, hometown, and any comments that I may make about myself or this contest that I provide for advertising and promotional activities. I also certify that I am at least 13 years of age and am eligible to participate in this contest.

In the off-chance I win, I respectfully decline the change in my forum title... unless it is to upgrade me to "Solid Gold SteelClaw"...

Eewwwww....

You guys got serious all over my joke post!

I have read several complaints about the expense of the new vanity pet German Shepherd. Here are a few of my thoughts on what might make the price tag a little more acceptable...

* The Devs may eventually introduce Furby dynamics by which two or more German Shepherds in the same area will recognize one another and commence to butt-sniffing, playing and/or growling over territory.

* In PvP zones the G.S. still can't attack your enemies but it CAN target them to hump their legs as long as they are standing still.

* The perfect companion to your new Bob Barker tribute character.

* New "seeing eye dog" costume pieces! Automatically goes into guide dog mode when it's master is using the Walk emote.

* New idle emotes when simply standing around... growl at stranger, sniff crotch, mark territory...

* Has a random chance per summoning of giving its master the "Timmy has fallen down a well" mission.

* Will chase any character using Animal-Cat parts incessantly until they climb an available tree.

* Random Boss bad guys will now randomly say the line "And I would have gotten away with it too.. if it hadn't been for those meddling heroes and their stupid dog!" upon being thwarted.

* The dog is still incapable of attacking... its fleas however are cybernetic nanites capable of dealing Nuke-level damage over time and immobilization due to severe itching versus any enemy who targets an attack on their meal cart.

* In-game advertising deals now allow you to get costume codes for your dog allowing it to look like Lassie, Benji, Bolt or Dyno-Mutt.

Statesman: Who would have thought I'd get it in the back of my head?

BABs: You were right Manticore... shoulda seen a doctor... 'bout the hand spasms... (conversation to take place in public restroom)

Synapse: Sure... Flash saved the universe in Infinite Crisis.... me? Slipped on a da**ed banana peel...

Sister Psyche: Figures... ... ... only thing... ... ... mind ride on... ... ... in range... ... ... is a... ... ... freaking... ... ... sloth...

Positron: No! I'm not dead! I can hear and feel everything... just can't move! Don't put me in the coffin! Don't close the lid! ... well... here I am... locked in here forever never to feel the air on my skin again or the sun... man I hate deja vu...

Numina: What are they planning over there? Wait... did they just say something about crossing the streams?

Manticore: Note to self... if you survive this... CHECK to make sure they're not explosive tips... before using arrows as shishkabob spits...

Citadel: I'm fading.... fading... everything's going blue screen...