Utilitarian

Lady Lawful & Doctor Developer #1

I have to say, I really like My Comic Book Creator. That's a spankin' piece of software.

W00t!

Yay! I can think of only one comic whose cancellation brings me more joy. The TC comic is the only thing in three years of playing CoH/CoV that's ever made me consider canceling my account.

I'd make some statement like "Bring back Blue King!" or such, except thanks to the My Comic Book Creator software, I don't think there's a market for official CoH/CoV comics. It's too easy for us players to make our own comics of our own adventures now.

Are all the submissions on display? I don't see mine, which may not be on display since I emailed it in...just wondering.

[ QUOTE ]
That's what I thought at first but it says he's leaving Cryptic and MUO is being developed by them.

[/ QUOTE ]

What about the DCUMMO?

For my 600th post, here are several pictures I've commissioned of my much loved, but sadly rarely played, Stalker: Software Pirate!

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/41373211/

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/36880092/ (He's trying out for One Piece here, but the swordsman role was already taken, and since they don't have computers...)

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/32783538/

And quite possibly my favorite...

http://gallery.virtualcara.net/pics/...rate_comp.html (Software Pirate and Utilitarian hanging out in Siren's Call, one of the few places a pair of like-minded technologists on opposite sides of the law can hang out.)

Me was in Hollows when drugs kicked in. Skin turn green. Horns come out of head. Hurt bad too. Hurt make me mad. Make me want smash!

"Mog, you no look good," Jot say. He no look good too, but he no look good longer.

"Me okay," me say, "Me just want smash!"

So we smash.

[ QUOTE ]
If you're reading this, mission-design people, I wanna go to a parallel dimension ruled by Nemesis.

[/ QUOTE ]

City of Steam?

I'd play that.

[ QUOTE ]
Please please please please please Posi...

Be sure the Invention System is accessible to casual players (especially those not in SGs) as well as so casual and small SGs.

*crosses fingers*

[/ QUOTE ]

/signed

Mmm... An invention system. Utilitarian's going to become my new, favorite main again! Woohoo.

(I just hope workbenches for the invention system are cheaper than they are for bases.)

You have to load bind files. I have a character with two costume slots, and I've fixed it so "K" will alternate between them -- Masterminds run out of keyboard realestate quickly. This is how I did it:

[ QUOTE ]
bf1.txt
k $$bind_load_file c:\bf2.txt $$cc 2

[/ QUOTE ]

[ QUOTE ]
bf2.txt
k $$bind_load_file c:\bf1.txt $$cc 1

[/ QUOTE ]

You'll need to initally bind "K" to load bf2.txt, and you might have to play with the sequencing (sorry), but I believe something like that will allow you to toggle between two powers.

http://profnano.org/andy/misc/img/slash_stuck.jpg

Thanks to the GM for telling me what /stuck does, but I still think they need to make those fences a bit thicker.

Just Business

The elevator door swished open with the mechanical efficiency you might expect from a guy calling himself Herr Doktor Destruction. It wasn't anything really spectacular to have a door swish open, but it beat the heck out of some lairs. The arch mages were the worst, with those heavy wooden doors that you had to push open.

Joe shivered slightly at the memory and stepped out of the elevator. Herr Doktor Destruction's lair was pretty swanky; at least the hallway was anyway. Chrome all the way, like something out of movie. He didn't have much time to appreciate the scenery, though, as a frantic looking man in a white lab coat and goggles came running down the hall.

"Are you zee repairman?" the mad scientist asked. Given the accent, Joe figured he was Herr Doktor D.

"Deathtrap Technician," Joe answered, "Yes, I'm here about your problem. Just show me the way to your, uh, lab or whatever."

"Goot, goot," Herr Doktor nodded. He scurried down the hall, leading Joe toward where ever his deathtrap was. Herr Doktor looked over his shoulder, "I vould like to say, I am most pleazed vith your companies merchandize. This is the first time it haz ever malfunctioned."

"Thank you," Joe nodded. He idly wondered if any of Herr Doktor's schemes had lasted long enough for him to actually test out one of the deathtraps. He left the question unasked, thinking back to the time Murray asked Sharkill something similar. It wasn't that Murray hadn't learned to use the prosthetic arm, but Joe had a vacation coming up and didn't want to spend it in a hospital.

Herr Doktor guided Joe into a large, gymnasium-sized room. It was obviously his lab. Banks of computers lined the wall, carcasses of cannibalized and broken robots lay off in one corner, and Joe noted the small cot across the room. Herr Doktor was a workaholic, apparently.

Although, really, which super villains weren't. It wasn't like they ever incorporated or unionized. The whole super villainy thing was made for workaholics and people with strange strains of O.C.D. Fixing U-Snare traps and updated software drivers for them was as close to the villain-hero paradigm as Joe ever wanted to get.

U-Snare had a better retirement plan than any League, Society, or oddly numbered group he'd ever run across.

"So, where is it?" Joe asked.

According to the work order, Herr Doktor had a D.A.L.E.K. -- a Digitally Automated Lasing Exemplar Killer. The D.A.L.E.K. was about the size of four refrigerators stacked side-by-side, laying flat on the ground. It was twice the size it needed to be, but the suits in marketing wanted two things from the D.A.L.E.K.:

1. For villains to feel it was the perfect size for offing any hero, be they waifish catgirl or rock-faced juggernaut.

2. To sell lots of D.A.L.E.K.'s to the villain who tried to kill either waifish catgirl or rock-faced juggernaut.

"Ah, yes," Herr Docktor nodded, "forgive me." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a PDA. Herr Doktor fiddled with the stylus for a minute. "I remember when a mere button was all that was required." He finally managed to activate whatever he was trying to activate.

The middle of the room suddenly opened up, a pair of splitting doors slid aside just as easily, though a bit more slowly, than the elevator door. When they had finished their movement, announcing as much with an echoing clank, another whirring sounded. Slowly, from within the hole, a platform began to rise up, and Joe saw where Herr Doktor's D.A.L.E.K. was stowed. Joe sighed slightly and shook his head when he saw what was atop the D.A.L.E.K.

"The U-Snare terms of service explicitly state that I am not compelled to work on any deathtrap that is currently occupied by a hostage, hero, heroine, sidekick, or villain," Joe said flatly. "Get her off, or I'm going back to the truck."

Herr Doktor fidgeted. "I know about zee terms of service," he said plaintively, "but she iz super strong. All my minions haff gone home, and the deadline iz at midnight. To transfer her, I would haff to wait until tomorrow."

Herr Doktor clasped his hands together. "Could you please oferlook this? Just once."

Joe scratched the back of his head. Working on a deathtrap with someone on, in, or under is had a lot of legal ramifications. If something went wrong, and the Deathtrap Technician ended up frying the hostage, hero, heroine, sidekick, or villain, that brought all kinds of criminal charges down on U-Snare. Several rather litigious heroes had sued U-Snare employees as aiding and abetting super villains in times past.

Joe was about to turn Herr Doktor down, and beat as fast a retreat as his employee handbook recommended, when a voice entered into the conversation. "It's fine with me if you want to work on it," the speaker said from atop the D.A.L.E.K. "He'll never get away with this. Justice will be served. Blah, blah, blah. Don't let me get in your way."

Joe looked at Herr Doktor, squinting. He then looked over at the green-and-purple clad heroine chained down to the D.A.L.E.K. "Okay," he relented, walking toward the D.A.L.E.K., "But you should know, I've recorded your verbal waiver and neither myself or U-Snare is responsible for any harm that comes to you."

Joe stood beside the D.A.L.E.K. addressing the captive as professionally as one can when looking down at a green-haired Amazon chained to a device designed to slice people in her position to small pieces.

She shrugged as well as someone chained down to such a thing could.

"That's fine," she said. "By the way," she continued, pausing to look at the embroidered nametag, "Joe, I'm Parity -- well, you know, publicly anyway."

Joe nodded. "Nice to, uh, meet you, Parity," he replied. "Nothing personal, you know."

Parity waved one of her manacled hands. "I know," she said, "it's business. I actually own a few shares of U-Snare stock, so any ill-feelings on my part would be quite a conflict of interest."

Joe nodded. He turned back to Herr Doktor. "So just, exactly, is the problem with it?" He couldn't see any physical damage to the D.A.L.E.K., but if Parity was as strong as Herr Doktor implied there might be something loose internally.

"I loaded zee software that came with the D.A.L.E.K., just as the instructions instructed," Herr Doktor explained, "but whenever I try to use zee interface to program zee lazer path, it crashes." He pointed to a nearby workstation, and led Joe over to it.

"Okay, what operating system are you using?" Joe asked, more to himself than Herr Doktor. He settled in behind the workstation, idly clicking through the Programs menu, looking for the U-Snare folder. "Crey '98?" he asked. Joe looked over at Herr Doktor.

"What?" Herr Doktor asked. "I zee no reazon to buy Crey XP just because it iz newer. '98 haz always worked with U-Znare equipment before."

Joe sighed. "Yes, but the newer models have firmware that's been patched to protect against some of the new viruses coming from Arachnos. Crey '98 doesn't have the libraries to--" Even with his goggles on, Joe could see that Herr Doktor was giving him the kind of look that meant anything more technical would just compound problems.

"I'm going to have to download an older set of drivers," Joe explained, "and flash the D.A.L.E.K. before it'll do anything."

"Will zis take very long?" Herr Doktor asked.

"Do you have broadband or are you still on dial-up?" Joe asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Broadband," Herr Doktor told him. "I had to upgrade when zee Conundrum Council insisted on video conferencing last month."

"Then it shouldn't take too long to download everything," Joe replied, "if I start now."

Herr Doktor gestured to the workstation. "By all meanz, pleaze. I waz already logged into zee system, so you haff full access." Herr Doktor checked his watch. "Vould you excuze me," he asked, "I left zomesing in zee the microwave."

"Fine with me," Joe shrugged. He started looking for Herr Doktor's web browser.

"Me too," Parity called out.

Joe looked up at the D.A.L.E.K. and it's prisoner, shaking his head slightly. He should have just left. Parity would have been enough of an excuse for his manager. It wasn't like Herr Doktor Destruction was an A-List client or anything.

"Zen I shall return in but a moment," Herr Doktor said, walking off and out of the lab.

Joe frowned as he brought up the web browser. As the homepage loaded, Joe flinched away. He really didn't need to know that Herr Doktor was a Ghost Widow fetishist -- there was enough about her on the news without having to see digitally altered photos of her--

Joe shook his head and quickly typed in the address for U-Snare's firmware download page.

"Hey, Joe," Parity called out, "do you mind if I ask you something?"

Joe sighed. "I can't let you go," he said in a monotone voice, "U-Snare strictly forbids its employees from showing any partiality to--"

"No, no," Parity interrupted, "I've got that handled. It's about U-Snare, actually."

Joe typed in his access information, and set the browser to logging him in. He looked around the workstation. "Sure," he answered back, "I guess." The few times that Joe had met a hero or heroine on a job, they typically weren't very chatty.

"My boyfriend has got this friend," she began, "who's actually named Joe too. Anyway, he's just gotten out of the Zig, and is looking for a job. Do you think U-Snare might be hiring?"

"Um," Joe thought, "well, U-Snare's pretty picky about Deathtrap Technicians. I'm an EE, electrical engineering, major with a minor in information systems. Why was your boyfriend's friend in the Zig? Was he a super villain?"

Parity snickered. "If you ask him, he was. He got arrested for illegal use of the Emergency Medical Teleport system. He was helping The Family smuggle things around Paragon City without having to pass through war wall security."

Joe looked back at the workstation and clicked through several menus. Eventually he found the right driver for a D.A.L.E.K. being controlled by Crey '98. He clicked the link and started the download.

"If he managed to bypass city security systems, then he's probably qualified to work at U-Snare," Joe explained. He stepped around the workstation, and walked over to Parity. As he moved, he pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. "If you get out of this," Joe said, "have him give me a call. I can get him to H.R."

He offered the card to Parity, forgetting that she was in no real position to accept it. "Oh, sorry," he said.

"Just put it under my belt," Parity said. She glanced down at the belt, and Joe carefully tucked the card between her waist and the belt. It wasn't until afterward that he even considered what sort of sexual harassment suit might be filed because of that, but he had her telling him put it there on record. Plus, if she did own stock in U-Snare, filing a suit against the company wouldn't exactly increase shareholder's wealth.

"Thanks," Parity said, smiling. "They'll both appreciate this."

"You're welcome," Joe answered. "I hate to be rude, but I really need to--"

"Yeah, go," Parity replied. "I should probably be escaping now, not trying to job hunt." She looked up at the manacles around her wrist and began a systematic twisting that Joe recognized from past jobs.

He stepped back over to the workstation and continued the downgrade. It didn't take long to flash the D.A.L.E.K., and by the time it had fully rebooted, Herr Doktor was just returning. He was carrying a glass bowl of something that smelled disgustingly like sour kraut in his arms.

"Villainy workz up zuch an appetite," he explained.

"If you say so," Joe replied. "Okay," he began to explain, "I've downloaded and flashed the new, er, old firmware to the D.A.L.E.K. So, you should be good to go."

Herr Doktor finished chewing his kraut and swallowed. "Most excellent," he praised Joe.

"Still," he added, "I really think you would be better off upgrading to Crey XP. Some of the viruses coming out of the Rogue--"

"Bah," Herr Doktor waved him off. "My zecurity systems are imperviouz. Nocing in, nocing out, wizout my zay zo."

Joe shrugged, "Okay." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his work order and a pen. "Well, Herr Doktor Destruction, if you would just sign here, confirming that you're satisfied, I'll get out of your way."

"Zertainly," Herr Doktor said. He looked down at the sour kraut in his arms, then back up at Joe. "I don't zuppoze you vould mind..."

Joe nodded, accepting the kraut bowl with his free hand, and giving the paper and pen to Herr Doktor with his other. Herr Doktor signed the paper, holding it up to the side of his workstation. Finished, he and Joe traded their packages again.

"Sank you," Herr Doktor said.

Joe nodded, putting the paper back in his pocket. "Just doing my job," he replied. He looked around Herr Doktor and waved at Parity. Not sure if she could see him, he called out, "Nice meeting you, Parity."

Parity sat up and waved back to Joe. "You too, Joe. I'll be sure he gives you a call." Seeing Parity free stunned Herr Doktor so that he dropped his kraut of the floor.

Joe, on the other hand, recognized a climactic battle in the making when he saw one. Without another word, he sprinted back toward the elevator. There was one more deathtrap to fix for the night and a vacation coming up, and he was in no mood to have something as trivial as an exploding secret hideout get in his way.

Thank you.

Part One

He could hear voices. They weren't clear, but he could make them out. There were at least two, maybe a third. They were also getting louder. Did that mean they were getting closer? He wanted to see. Carefully he opened his eyes. As soon as his eyes cracked open, his head exploded with pain. The light was too bright. He clenched both lids as tightly as they would close.

The pain slowly subsided, and in the place it left void, his tenuous grasp of lucidity returned. He could hear the voices again and even understand them. They were talking about him. At least, they were standing around him, talking about some procedure.

He recalled a procedure. He had undergone a procedure. He couldn't remember what it was for, though. Was it something to help him? Maybe, but why would he need help. He was a physically fit pilot, one of the Reich's greatest in fact. He tried to remember, but when the voices returned, they started talking at him.

"Felix," one of the voices on his left spoke. "Felix Bauer, can you hear me?" It was serious and almost insistent, but Felix noted an underlying tone of something. It sounded like fear perhaps. "If you can hear me, Felix, please nod."

That he could do. Felix nodded slowly, carefully. After the stark betrayal of his eyes, he felt unsure of his body. His neck felt stiff as he nodded, but it wasn't anything worse than if he fell asleep at an odd angle. His next few nods were more sure.

"Good, good," another voice spoke. It was still on his left side, but sounded further away. Felix still heard the same tone of fear in this man's voice. "He is responsive," the man said, "this is good. Very good!"

"He can nod," another, familiar voice spoke. "Can he do anything else?" This voice came from his right. Unlike the other two men there was no fear in his voice.

Felix risked another peek and opened his eyes. The light still felt like needles boring into his skull, but he was awake enough to comprehend the pain and push it aside. As unresponsive as his eyes were, they managed to focus well enough for him to see the ceiling. He was lying down in a bed, apparently. He glanced to his left and saw the two fearful speakers. Felix recognized them as the doctors who were going to perform the procedure on him. They glanced nervously down at him, then back to the man on his right.

"Victory and welfare, my leader," Felix whispered in a raspy voice. He tried to raise his right arm to properly salute his leader, but only managed to lift it a few inches from the bed sheets. The mustachioed leader looked down at him, and saw the attempted salute. He responded with a dismissive salute of his own, and Felix let his arm drop back down to the sheets.

"He will get stronger," one of the doctors said. This time he sounded more confident. "The wyrm within him needs time to heal, but that should not take long."

"How long?"

"There is no way to tell," the second doctor spoke, "we could estimate, but even--"

"Within a week," the first doctor interjected. "Within a week, he will either be back to normal -- better than normal -- or he will be dead." The two doctors exchanged a quick glance between each other.

"And if he is dead," the second added, "we will autopsy him to find what went wrong, so the next will be perfect."

"Very well," Felix heard his leader speak. "One week. He will either be ready for the project, or you will have picked another to try." Felix's stomach clenched as he realized what they were saying. He had one week to fully recover from the procedure, from the wyrm the doctors had put in him, or they would kill him to remove it. One week to live and recover, or one week to wait out a death sentence.

The voices began to fade away as they left, and Felix let himself close his eyes again. The light still battered at his senses, but it was a pain he could endure. There were ways to get around a sensitivity to light, he was already thinking of where he could lay his hands on a pair of welding goggles. That would be a good first step to his recovery. After that--

"Okay, Felix," a voice said. This one was female, and more familiar to him than the voice of his leader. He carefully opened his eyes again, but could not see the speaker. "Felix," she repeated. He knew she was near, but even with his senstive eyes opened, she remained invisible. "Felix," she said, this time shaking him, "wake up!"

---

Daniz Hawksmoore was not one to be scared easily. During her days as a freelance air pirate, she saw acts that would make most men twice her age cringe. She was responsible for a good half of those acts. However, when The Dragonflyer's head snapped up from his nap and his hands clamped around her wrists, she couldn't help but let out a slight gasp of surprise. It took a moment, but even with his eyes hidden behind the polarized lenses of his goggles, she could see his face relax when he recognized her.

"I apologize, Daniz," he whispered as he released her wrists. Once his and her hands were free, he reached down and pulled his mask bck over the lower half of his face. She knew as well as he did it never bode well for soldiers to see their leader anything but confident and certain. It was that understanding that always reminded Daniz just how much The Dragonflyer trusted her.

"The dream again?" she asked.

He nodded tightly as he began to stand up. "My one and only fear," he said quietly, with a hateful tone, "the men who made me what I am today." Once up, he brushed his tunic off and stretched, working out any kinks his muscles may have developed during his nap.

He looked at Daniz and added, "Thank you for taking over." He looked around the darkened trailer where he, Daniz and a handful of his best commandoes were keeping watch. "An old man like myself," he added so they could all hear, "needs a little sleep after all." The commandoes chuckled and shook their heads. Daniz smiled, but made no noise. "How do our plans go?" he asked.

"We have just received word from our informant that the prototype is on its way," Daniz reported. "The only hero who is here is Ms. Liberty," she told him.

The Dragonflyer stared past her and into the trailer wall for a moment. "First or second?" he finall asked.

"Second," she answered.

"We anticipated this," he said. "A problem, but not one to cause us to retreat." He paced toward the end of the trailer, past his commandoes, with Daniz in tow. When planning this mission, to steal the prototype Chaser the Freedom Corps was developing, he realized two facts. The first was that any number of superheroes might show up, including Statesman himself. Because of that, the second fact was obvious, such a theft would not be successful if it were planned around brute strength. Stealth and misdirection were their best weapons today, and between Daniz and his six handpicked commandoes, they would be weapons weilded by masters at the art.

As he reached the doors of the trailer, he turned and faced his subordinates. "All right," he said, using a voice reserved for barking orders. His six men stopped whatever they were doing, and gave their attention solely to The Dragonflyer. Daniz kept her attention focused on him, and moved to the side of the trailer so all the commandoes could see their leader.

"Pilots," he said to three men cleaning their guns, "you will go first and start the distraction. Once you have attracted attention, fall back and disappear." He turned to a pair of commandoes watching him, rapt with attention. "Gunners," he spoke, "when they pull back, you begin, just like we planned." The last man stood a bit more straight when he was addressed, "Ace, you and Daniz will finish our little act in Atlas Park."

He looked at Daniz for a moment, then back to his men. "I will sneak onto their base and take the Chaser prototype." Getting onto the Freedom Corps base in Bloody Bay would not be easy, but it would be possible. "If we are all clear," he said, and every one replied to the affirmative, "then Pilots move out. Ten minutes later, Gunners, and twenty minutes after, Ace and Daniz. I will leave after that."

"Has everyone synchronized their watches?" Daniz asked. Again the men answered positively. With everything set, the three Pilots moved toward the doors, and slipped out.

Ten minutes later, the two Gunners departed.

Twenty minutes later, Ace moved toward the door.

Daniz asked him to go one, with a promise she would be right behind him. Ace understood and slipped out. The relationship between The Dragonflyer and Daniz was a rather public secret. It was hard for world class pilots, trained to notice more in a split second than most comprehended in a minute, to miss their secret glances. Or how The Dragonflyer was almost always pulling his mask back into place when they entered a room together. No one spoke of it, though, choosing to respect their leader's personal discretions.

Daniz slid her arms around The Dragonflyer's waist, and leaned her head on his shoulder. He returned her gesture by wrapping his left arm around her waist, and stroking her long, blond hair with his right. He often told Daniz that her hair made her look like an angel, to which she would always reply, "That just means my disguise is working."

"Do not fret, mein Engel," he said, letting his native tongue slip into his perfectly spoken English. "We have planned for everything."

"I'm not worried," she huffed. She pulled her head off of his shoulder and stared into his eyes, ignoring the presence of his goggles. "I just know how you feel about blondes," she said, a tight grin growing on her lips, "and don't want you to run off with Ms. Liberty."

The Dragonflyer let out a loud laugh that relaxed every muscle in his body. He pulled pulled his mask down with his right hand, then moved it back into place, so he could hug Daniz tighter. He nuzzled her ear, and started kissing her neck as passionately as his eighty-four years on earth had taught him to kiss. "You have nothing to fear, Daniz," he assured her, "for I fear your wrath too much to believe that even Ms. Liberty could protect me from you if I ran off with her."

"So that's two things The Dragonflyer fears?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Yes," he answered between kisses, "but only one of those fears is one I am glad to be afraid of." He pulled back to look at her. "It is an assurance that you still love me enough to kill me." He grinned at her, and she returned the smile.

Daniz leaned forward to kiss him gently on the lips. As she pulled away, she returned his mask to its proper position. "Don't forget it, Herr Drachefliege," she told him. He couldn't help but smile even broader behind his mask. Daniz only used his original, German codename when she wanted him to know she was serious.

"I shall not," he promised her.

Daniz slipped out of their embrace, and gave him an official salute. With a return salute, he dismissed her. She headed for the exit, slipping out to join Ace.

The Dragonflyer waited another twenty minutes after she was gone, then slipped out of the trailer. He had two hours to get into place, plenty of time. He felt the wyrm within him stirring. It always seemed to know when he was about to go into action, but then that was its purpose after all. It, like The Dragonflyer, existed for wars and fights, and even if everything went as planned, he knew that there was a fight waiting very soon in his future.

((With thanks to Mr. Hickman for reminding me of something.))


The Facts Support Santa Claus

Editorial Page, Paragon Free Press, 1935:

By Monica Richter, Chief Editor

The Paragon Free Press is honored and delighted to reply to the following communication:

"I am 10 years old. Some of my friends have told me that Santa Claus isn't real. My dad says that you can believe what the Paragon Free Press prints. Please, tell me, does Santa Claus exist? Is he real?" signed Taylor Smith.

Taylor, the question you ask about Santa Claus is a hard one to answer. As a reporter, facts and the truth are the most important tools you have to use. It would be easy for me to tell you that Santa Claus exists, but it would also be irresponsible, because the facts do not reveal the complete truth about Santa Claus.

While it is impossible to tell you that, yes, there is a Santa Claus, it is also just as impossible to tell you, no, he is not real. It is what adults call a conundrum, a difficult problem with no answer in sight. When faced with a conundrum, a lot of people, people like your friends, often take one side of the argument without considering both sides of the argument. They declare a truth without knowing all the facts.

This may not completely answer your question, Taylor, but perhaps a quick review of the facts will help you better present the other side of your friends' statements.

One of the largest arguments people use to argue against Santa Claus is that no one man could get around the world in one night. People who make that argument have obviously never met Statesman or seen him in action. Many of our readers over the years have stated that Statesman can move so fast, it is as if he is in two places at once. That seems to be a fact that would weigh in favor of Santa Claus.

Another argument is that Santa Claus could never make enough toys for every girl and boy on Earth. That argument would have been pretty damaging for an argument in favor of Santa Claus a few years ago. After seeing all the robots that Nemesis was able to build in such a short time, Santa's Workshop is not too much of a stretch any more. If Nemesis can build thousands of giant, complex machines in just a couple of years, it would seem very possible that Santa could make millions of much simpler, much smaller toys in one year.

Again, Taylor, there is no way for me or the Paragon Free Press to state that Santa Claus does or does not exist. There are not enough facts. What the facts do support is that there are people all over Paragon City and all over the world who have amazing abilities. These same people use their abilities everyday to help other people, to save lives, and to make the world a better place to live.

The next time your friends tell you that Santa Claus is not real, you should ask them what proof they have. If they can't give you any facts, then the facts you have -- Statesman's speed and the hidden factories of Nemesis -- offer more proof that Santa Claus is real than the opposite.

[ QUOTE ]
one can allways assume that no matter how you got to the rogue ilses the first person your sent to speak to is kalinda.

[/ QUOTE ]

She's like, Lord Arachnos's version of The Statue of Liberty...

Give me your evil, you villainous, your sociopathic menaces.

Thanks!

Thanks!

This may be one of those questions that has no answer, but I'm still curious how those with more RP and fanfic experience handle it...

Does it defy any serious convention to have a villain on the Rogue Isles who didn't come from the Zig? In-game it's impossible to do otherwise, but for the purposes of RP'ing and fanfic, is it considered taboo to say, "My character was never in jail?" It's not that she's too good of a criminal to be caught, rather she wasn't a criminal until another villain (who did escape) recruited her.

Thanks!

Check out The Web of Archnos for some back-backstory. Google for the History Plaques, those and the Exploration badges offer a few bits of history. If you can stand spoilers, the websites that transcribe mission arc texts give some histories for the villain groups. If you ever see "About $target" on an NPC, read it.

I'm disinclined to recommend the Top Cow comics, simply because what I remember from the first two seem to contradict TWoA novel. However, the twelve Blue King books, as far as I remember, seem to be in sync with the game.

Santa Doug is Coming to Town

"I don't know about this," Doug mumbled. He looked down at the red jacket, shirt, and pants ensemble he was wearing. The stocking cap on his head was starting it itch something fierce, but the glaring red costume unnerved him more.

"You look great, honey," Melissa said. She patted him on the back with her free hand, the one that wasn't holding onto a large, burlap sack. "The kids are going to love you."

Doug still wasn't sure why he'd agreed to dress up as "Santa Doug" for Melissa's library party. Sure, it was a cute idea, but he wasn't sure of his ability to pull off Old Saint Nick's role. "I'm not too jolly," he said patting his stomach.

"That's why you're not Santa Claus," she said, stressing the last name. "You're Santa Doug," she chirped, causing Doug's head to turn up, toward hers. "You're one of Santa's secret handymen who help him make toys all through year," she continued. They slowed to a stop across the street from the Paragon City Public Library, and Melissa carefully set her sack on the ground.

"You'll do fine," she stressed. Melissa leaned forward and offered up a good luck kiss square on Doug's mouth. After a moment, she pulled back, giggling. "Did I get any flour on my mouth?" she asked. She'd ground several handfuls of flour into Doug's normally brown beard to give it a more Santa-like look.

"You're good," he assured her.

"Okay," she said. "Wait about ten minutes, then come over, and be sure you use your Rocket Pack," she instructed him. He nodded to the affirmative as Melissa looked both ways and then darted across the road.

Doug watched her until she disappeared into the building. After the door closed behind her, Doug's eyes shifted slightly behind his ever-present, temporarily holiday-colored goggles. A translucent clock appeared between his eyes and the world. "Ten minutes," he thought to himself. "Ten minutes."

---

"Hey, who's that?" Melissa asked. She said it loud enough for the circle of children munching on sugar cookies to hear. "Is that Santa?" That got their attention, and the sound of two dozen-child-sized sneakers rumbled across the library floor. If any of the other patrons minded the unusual loudness going on inside the library, none of the said it.

"Really?"

"Santa?"

"No way!"

"I can't see."

The kids pushed and scrambled to get a view out the library window. The fastest in the front climbed atop the cushioned benches that sat under the window. Those behind the circled around the bench, and the slowest in the back hopped every few seconds trying to get a better look.

"I don't see, Santa," one of the kids said grumpily.

"Really?" Melissa asked, her voice somewhere between curious and doubtful. "Because I could have sworn that--"

"SANTA!"

A harmonious cheer arose from the children as a brightly dressed man in red descended into view of the window. He touched down lightly and waved at the kids. Another cheerful cry erupted, and they all started to move en masse toward the library door. Using her long legs to their fullest advantage, Melissa jogged ahead of the kids and arrived before they did. Seeing one of their favorite, and definitely tallest, librarians standing between them and door, the kids skidded to a halt.

"You guys know the rules," Melissa said firmly. "No one goes outside." The all nodded solemnly, remembering the strictly enforced rule. In Paragon City it was the first rule imposed on every kid: no matter how cool something or someone looks outside, never go look without an adult.

The room fell silent for a minute, until a loud knock came from outside the door. An anxious, thrilled murmur came from the children. Melissa knelt slightly and looked through the peephole. Then she looked back at the kids.

"Okay," she said seriously to the kids. "Now, when I let Santa in, are you guys going to be polite?"

"Yes, ma'am," the all said.

"And no one's going to try to rush past and get out?"

"No, ma'am!" they almost shrieked, trying to allay any fears that anyone would forgo Santa for the outside.

"Okay," she said. Melissa turned back and pulled the door open. "Hello, Santa!" she said cheerfully. "Please come in."

Santa stepped into the library, pausing on the welcome mat the knock slush off his shoes and set his heavy bag on the floor. "Hi-- Uh," he paused, then remembered, "Ho, ho, ho! Mer-- Uh, happy holidays! Happy holidays, kids!" Acknowledging the kids was enough to break them out of their polite patience, and once more the two-dozen children surged forward. Several loud and excited minutes passed as kids peppered Santa with questions and attention.

"What happened to your beard?"

"It's too small. Santa Claus has a bigger beard!"

"Are you really Santa Claus?" asked the same brown-haired boy who first doubted Santa presence.

"That's a good question," Melissa agreed, "Are you really Santa Claus?"

"Um, no," Santa answered. A unified gasped escaped from the children, which was followed by more concerned murmurs. "I'm Santa Doug," he explained, "I'm in Santa's Supergoup." That caught the kids' attention again. "He's busy getting ready for Christma-- The holidays," Santa Doug told them, "but when he got Melissa's letter about how good you'd all been, he asked me to bring all of you an early surprise." The concerned murmurs ceased instantly as their young minds began to wonder what Santa Claus had asked Santa Doug to bring them.

"What is it?"

"Can we open it now?"

"Please! Please! Please!"

"Okay, guys, calm down," Melissa interjected. "Remember your promise." Remembering their promise to be polite, the kids both calmed and quieted. "Why don't we all go over here," she suggested. Santa Doug hefted his bag back onto his shoulder, then followed Melissa and the kids and over to the open floor where'd they'd been snacking before. "Santa Doug, why don't you sit over here," she pointed to a space just in front of the reference desk, "and, kids, you sit here," she pointed to a place a few feet away.

"There we go," she added when everyone had settled down. Melissa joined the children on the library floor, resting on her knees. "Okay, Santa Doug," she asked, "Just what did you bring us?"

"Well, um," Santa Doug answered, "I didn't have as much time as Santa Claus does, nor as many elves, so I only had time to make one big present." The idea of "one" present was easily ignored in favor of the "big" part of it. "I hope that's okay," he said.

Melissa smiled broadly and replied, "That is perfectly fine, Santa Doug. We can leave it here at the library, and everyone can share it." She turned back to the kids, "A gift that everyone here can share is better than one that not everyone can use, isn't it?"

The kids all nodded to the affirmative. Santa Doug waited for a moment, and it took a small cough from Melissa to remind him about the present. He crouched on the floor, setting his bag down on the ground. He let the mouth of the bag slip down to reveal a large box wrapped in green paper and tied with a yellow bow. "Oh," Santa Doug suddenly added, as if struck by an idea, "Santa Claus said that since Melissa wrote the letter, she should open it."

Melissa aimed an unsure look at Santa Doug, but quickly regained her smile. "Is that okay, kids?" she asked. None of them dared defy the word of Santa Claus, so they all nodded and agreed. "Okay," she said. Melissa crawled forward, and sat back down when she was next to the box. She glanced at the kids, and asked, "Should I save the ribbon?"

"No!" they all shouted, horrified that she might stretch the surprise out longer by carefully opening the box.

"You want me to just rip into it?" she asked, switching her tone to a more shocked, confused voice.

"Yes!" they cried in exasperation.

"Okay," she agreed. She offered a shrug, and then tore the ribbon and paper away from the box. When all the paper was shredded and the ribbon lay on the floor, Melissa lifted the lid off the box. It wasn't completely removed when the box began to wiggle. Two metallic legs hooked over the edge of the box and it tipped over.

To Melissa's horror and surprise, one of Lord Recluse's Arachnobots crawled out of the box. Melissa looked at Santa Doug, and was shocked to see him smiling proudly. She looked back at the little, eight-legged robot. She wanted to grab it up to protect the children, but noticed that the Arachnobot looked different than the one's she'd seen on news reports. It's sharpened legs and pincers were replaced with rounded rubber tips. There were no weapons present on the robot either. The little robot was even painted with a festive green and gold design. She looked back at Santa Doug, one eyebrow raised.

"Greetings, children of Paragon City," the robot said in a high-pitched, synthesized voice. "I am PTR-1, but you may call me Peter," it explained. "Peter," it repeated, "your friendly, neighborhood Arachnobot!"

The little robot, Peter, extended his legs as far as they would go, then lowered his front four legs. Melissa realized he was bowing to the children. With his greeting finished, the children all started crawling toward him, wanting to meet the robot. With their attention drawn to the robot, Melissa stood up, and pulled Santa Doug back into opening of the hallway that led past the reference desk and into the periodical reading room.

"Doug," she insisted, "tell me that thing is safe."

Santa Doug nodded. "I totally stripped out the Arachnos systems. He's running on a modified Police Drone processor. The worst he can do it tell a bad joke." He crossed his heard with one hand. "Promise!"

She wasn't completely sold on the idea of an Arachnobot in her library, but she was sure Doug, "The Terrific Utilitarian," could safely disarm an Arachnobot. She nodded and gave an accepting sigh. "One question," she added.

"Sure."

"PTR-1?" she asked.

Santa Doug blushed. "Previously Trashed Robot," he answered. "I didn't exactly buy Peter's body at Cooke's Electronics."

Before she could reply, Peter's voice chirped loudly. "Mistletoe! Mistletoe!" it announced loudly. The kids joined in for a final, almost mocking, "Mistletoe!"

Melissa and Santa Doug looked up, and sure enough, they were standing beneath a twig of mistletoe someone had hung. She looked at Santa Doug with a quirky grin. "Okay," he answered, "maybe a bad joke isn't the worst thing he can do."

"Oh, I don't know," Melissa shrugged. She winked at the kids, who all laughed. "I don't think this is so bad." Quicker than Santa Doug could react, she leaned forward and planted a kiss on Santa's Doug's lips.

[ QUOTE ]
Or, you could simply depress the firing button on the strap you use to put the rocket pack on. :P

[/ QUOTE ]

What straps? I've never seen a strap.

In fact, I assumed the pack was from Portal Corps, because the lack of straps seem to imply some kind of localized gravity manipulation.

[ QUOTE ]
What gets in your way when you try to RP?

[/ QUOTE ]

This was actually on my mind today. It doesn't bug me so much while I'm playing, but when I try to write fanfic about my characters it's kind of irritating as of late -- since the Holiday Rocket Pack.

How does my Technology character control things like the Holiday Rocket Pack, Raptor Pack, Cryocite Armor, etc.? He's got a suit of power armor with its own computer systems, and those systems really have to be secure given the Rikti, Freakshow, Council, etc. level hackers out there who might want to hijack his systems. So, when Miss Liberty drops a rocket pack on me, or I buy one in Siren's Call, how do those controls suddenly show up on his (my) interface (power bar)?

Does the Freedom Corps or D.A.T.A. insist that my equipment have a backdoor for their systems? Does their hardware have some completely open API my systems can automatically tap into for use? What's going on here?

For the purposes of goofing around, I tend to handwave and say that the Holiday Rocket Packs, courtesy Portal Corps by way of Miss Liberty, just have some kind of übertech A.I. that hacks and updates my systems. However, when it comes to someone like Utilitarian -- who is my own personal Tony Stark, and thou shalt have hold no technologist above Tony Stark -- I dislike the idea any heroic operation has that kind of access to his armor.

RocketPacks

Thanks to Miss Liberty's gift, I've finally had the chance to fulfill a small dream of mine: I'm become a rocketeer. For those of you who don't know, on December 8 this year, Miss Liberty and the Freedom Corps gave all heroes in Paragon City a Holiday Rocket Pack. Well, I've been having such a blast with mine, that I decided to try out the Raptor Pack. For those of you technophiles reading this, here are my reviews:

Holiday Rocket Pack

The Holiday Rocket Pack (HRP) is a pretty spiffy little pack. It's obviously designed for long-range flight, and not super speeds like the Raptor Pack. The HRP's power source is still a mystery to me, but I suspect it's something from Portal Corps. The lack of straps, ability to vanish when disabled, and the fact that it has a specific recall date makes me think there is some "extra-dimensionality" to it.

I do like the HRP. As I said, it's obviously designed for long-range and not speed. This does make sense, as a lot of non-flyers will be getting their hands on them. Miss Liberty is probably more interested in them staying in the air and not having to deal with fast flight than she is pandering to speed demons. I commend her thinking.

Come January when they recall these packs, I'll be a bit sad. My own specific and refined flight systems are a bit better than the HRP's general purpose nature, but as far as backup flight systems go, you'd be hard pressed to beat this.

Raptor Pack

The Raptor Pack (RP) is what I would call a gas guzzler. Don't get me wrong, it's a fine rocket pack. It's probably half-again as fast as the HRP and comparable to my own flight systems, but it guzzles gas like you wouldn't believe.

Although, technically, it's not guzzling gas. The RP seems to -- and I stress "seems to" in case any lawyers are coming by -- be a bit parasitical in nature. I was watching my power levels while using it, and they seemed to drop a lot faster than when using my own. The HRP by comparison doesn't seem to draw any power from my systems. I'm no expert in bio-electric matters, but seeing what the Raptor Pack did to my batteries, I would be concerned for any heroes without a power supply between them and the pack.

There are a few more rocket packs floating around Paragon City that I'm itching to get my hands on. The SkyRaiders have their own packs, which look like older models of the Raptor Pack. I even hear, out in the Rogue's Isle, there's another group called the Gold Brickers. I have yet to see their equipment, but the rumour mill makes them out to be impressive.

Perils of Parity has all of my Parity images.