theHaunt

These are excellent. They look like an Ultimate-line imagining of the Circle of Thorns, rather than something completely different. I really hope the lower garments are going to put in the store too, I will totally pick those up and build some costumes around them.

Thanks to all the devs for listening to the playerbase and making such huge - and speedy! - improvements.

This is a good find that should probably be edited by the devs, just for sanity's sake...
That said, I imagine people saying it's a vestigial command are right, based on this bit from the latest dev interview:

((Alright, lots of stuff here, and personally I don't agree with a good deal of it (no offense meant, just my own opinion). While a lot of this might be what YOU would personally like to see on a Role Playing server, to me this proposed set of rules seems more like precautionary 'anti-power gamer' rules than ones that simply enhance or encourage RP. While it's true that a lot of these rules would keep power gamers away from the RPing server you're suggesting, I think it would ultimately end up doing more harm than good, by scaring away more casual RPers.

Before going on, I'll give a short background so you know where I'm coming from. I've been playing MMOs, and RPing, for about 2 and a half years. Started with Everquest, then moved on to AO, SWG, FFXI, and finally to CoH, which I joined specifically for the Roleplaying opportunities. I've also been to a couple of Roleplaying forums, and have DM'd a few campaigns in D&D. I try to stay in character most of the time, but still enjoy going out and cracking some bad guy skulls every once and a while just for the hell of it. I like roleplaying a great deal, but playing and advancing in the game is also something I enjoy, and I think there are a lot of people playing this game with a similar point of view.

Overall, these rules are more suited to people that don't mind not leveling often, or at all, and are content with hanging around, pretending to be their character at all times. I don't have a problem with that kind of playstyle, but when it's enforced through game mechanics in a system that doesn't really need it, I'd find it tiresome and would probably end up avoiding the server altogether.

To be more specific, I'll go over each of your points with why it wouldn't quite work on an enforced RP server, ESPECIALLY if it's the ONLY Official Roleplaying server.

[ QUOTE ]
When a player click the role-playing server, warn them, that they are getting ready to enter a high-heavy-lessAction-roleplaying server

[/ QUOTE ]

I don't think this is the best method, just for starters. A message like that is more of a warning, and is likely to scare more potential RPers away than it is to attract them.

[ QUOTE ]
. Less experience/Influence. People that just want to see the highest level, will than pick one of the servers, where it is more available. And role-player wants time to develop the more artistic skills of their characters.

[/ QUOTE ]

Not the right solution, and not necessarily true of all Roleplayers. As much as I like getting into character and talking with the people in my SG, I like to go out, run a few missions, and hopefully level up once in a while. I highly doubt that most Roleplayers go to the official RP server if this was implemented to any extreme amount. Beyond that, there's the matter of Cryptic implementing it. In the end, it's not the roleplayers or power gamers that are the most cost effective, it's the casual gamers. devoting time and resources (regardless of how much) to something like this, especially something that only effects one server, isn't worth the effort.

[ QUOTE ]
3) Fewer mobsters. Aye. You will actually have to look for enemies. Maybe down to 25% of what it is now. I believe that is fitting. But what do I know? And the mission, more dangerous (a way to make people need to join up in groups, and in groups, is where the role playing happens). Not saying role-players don?t like a little bit of action now and than, but I believe many of us, prefer the hunt compared to the kill, because it?s easier to role-play while running the pavement than when swinging a fist.

[/ QUOTE ]

I disagree. For the most part, having to spend more time hunting for enemies out doors (which is difficult enough to do and chat with your team mates) would only lead to less RP. As it stands now, the combat system is WAY too fast paced for anything to be done with it to make it more RP friendly (not a problem with that, by the way: I prefer the short fights in this game to wailing on Mist_Wolf1 for ten minutes with no reward :P). In the same way, making missions more difficult will lead to less RP, as players will have to work harder to keep themselves alive, and have less time to chat (not to mention that with less exp/influence players with be doing it for less reward, and will be less able to keep up with enhancements, making combat even MORE difficult). Again, it also runs into the problem of being unrealistic to implement on just one server.

[ QUOTE ]
4) A higher penalty on getting knockout and (something I really would like to see) a chance for a permanent lost of the character (the medics failed, lets see what the coroner can do).

[/ QUOTE ]

While it would be nice to see this as an option you can make for your character (not that I'd use it, but it would be nice for others to have it if they wanted to). Combined with the added difficulty to the game, the overall weaker and slower leveling characters, and the chance of having your character deleted over death makes this server most likely infuriated for casual gamers/casual RPers that play there (scaring off both in an MMO, and RP server=bad).

[ QUOTE ]
5) Last but not least?moderators, that have the power to ban the ones, that is not up for anything else, than to tell all of us geek, that we are?hmmm again?geeks

[/ QUOTE ]

Don't quite understand this, but I'm assuming you're trying to say to have moderators to ban those who aren't RPing. The problem? Mainly time/resources, but there's also another problem that you don't seem to realize:

[ QUOTE ]
But I?m certain you have a few that know exactly what role-playing are,

[/ QUOTE ]

Roleplaying, by its very nature, is subjective. Enforcing what is and isn't RP leads to NOTHING but problems, including several wonderful types of griefing. There are the people who could present a case that someone they personally don't like isn't roleplaying to have their character banned, or people that would grief another player because they have 'an IC grudge'. Beyond that, where does one draw the line? Would ((brb, dinner)) be a bannable offense on this server?

Overall, implementing all of this would just do more harm than good to the Roleplaying community, and doing it on a server with players that are already established in the 30s or 40 with no interest in RP will only lead to outcry on the boards (in case you haven't noticed, there are a LOT of overreactive customers in this game, many of whom would be none too pleased with this change).

Personally, I think the BEST and easiest thing the Devs could do would be to put simply a (Recommended Roleplay) tag at the end of a server in the game's selection screen, and leave it at that (I'd suggest Virtue for this treatment myself). No extra enforced rules, no restrictive additional naming policies, just a tag to let people know the best spot to head for like-minded players.

Ack, sorry for chewing your ear off, kinda got carried away ))

((<grins> Thanks, good to know someone's waiting for more. As for the next chapter, it'll be up as soon as I, erm, write it. Finals and the end of the school year kinda set me off track, I'm gonna start working on it tomorrow.

In the mean time...

Me and Roughshod were having a conversation the other day about who the FSS members would be if we were the X-Men (What? The CEO is a mutant telepath ). I figured I'd probably end up as Nightcrawler, and the end result:

Haunt + Fangs and Some Blue Face Paint ))

Haunt continued to hover upside down alongside the group, still awaiting a response from Sly. He turned to the newcomer after worriedly watching Deth for a few more moments, hearing his introduction cut short by her scream. Eidolon continued to watch the woman.

"Hello Dann. I'm Haunt, this is Eidolon," he motioned to the shadowy face at his left shoulder,"that's Deth Aszicen, The Sly Fox, Lobe, Nate, and that's Lightning Bug," he said, indicating each of the heroes assembled in turn.

Haunt shuffled into the building, still sore from an earlier encounter with the Banished Pantheon that day. He'd been living in Paragon for a while, but hadn't learned about the heroes housing program until he'd registered after the Rikti War, and even then he thought that he didn't need one, focusing all of his efforts on rebuilding the city and catching the two hours of daily sleep he needed in whatever safe place he could find. For a while he'd been spending this time in Hide Park, but after wasting half the day trying to locate his com that a band of clockwork had stolen while he was asleep, he decided finding a somewhat more secure place was neccessary.

He'd been assigned a room in the apartment building earlier that day, a small place with a mini-fridge, bed, stove, and television set, just as he'd requested. He was going through the building, barely aware of the crackle of cheap televisions and the hum of some of the technological heroes' chargers, but overriding them all was a loud racket coming from his hallway.

"No Eidolon, we're not asking for someplace else. It was nice enough of them to provide the room, especially considering the fact that we have jobs," he mumbled to the shadowy face at his shoulder. True, he had requested a room before joining First Strike Security's operative program, but the point still stood.

He continued down the hall, noticing four people, two of which entered the room the music was coming from as he approached. He recognized Riv, a fellow Operative, and turned to him after reaching the remaining two heroes.

"Hey, I didn't know you had an apartment here too," he said, still sounding somewhat out of it, apparently in need of some sleep, and not bothering to raise his voice above the music.

"Five steps ahead of you," Haunt said as he popped into view, displaying his ringless hands before disappearing again.

"Also," he added as he teleported about the group, trying to keep a lookout from different points of view. "The girl..has the jewel..but I hav...n't seen her...since Boomtown."

After hearing Deth's scream, Haunt teleported in front of she and Sly, the curiousity on his and Eidolon's faces mixed with concern as they looked down at the woman.

"You think it would be a good idea if I went on ahead? I could get the building ready, maybe find some medical equipment for these two.." he asked, nodding towards Deth and Nate as he hovered alonside the group of heroes, awaiting a response.

Haunt had been too preoccupied getting out of the building and worrying about those still inside to add any meaningful commentary to the group, but at the arrival of the new hero carrying Nate out of the building and the call for a heal patch, Haunt returned his attention to the party. He slapped a respite patch on the man, and also applied a catch a breath patch below it after looking the hero over, noticing how exhausted he looked. Haunt was glad he'd learned early on in his time spent in Paragon to carry an abundance of the healing devices wherever he went.

He began to move with the rest of the group, popping in and out of view in quick bursts of negative energy. As he teleported along, he absentmindedly grasped his left hand with his right. The ring was gone. He was initially worried, but soon realized that it was pretty much long gone at this point, lost in the wreckage of the building. He was glad, the thing was causing many understated problems with him that he hadn't noticed until freed from the effects.

Eidolon had seemed 'strained' the whole time he wore the relic. The entire time, something seemed to creep at the very ends of his conscience, just beyond the mental borders he could feel Eidolon inhabited, and she seemed to be working overtime to keep this something at bay while the ring was on his finger.

He did notice, however, the change in his teleportation. Normally his travels into the netherworld's warped landscape lasted for barely a second, the time it took for him to take a step. But with the demonic ring on, he'd remained their longer, seeing the twisted plane in more detail. He'd seen several strange things during these extended visits, and decided he'd need to have a talk on the subject with one of the more magical heroes he'd met later.

Haunt rose to his feet after regaining his strength and turned to Fox.

"Thanks Haunt, I owe you... remind me to consider you FSS material..."

"Don't be surprised if I hold you to that, on both counts," Haunt replied with a half chuckle. He nearly jumped out of his skin as the grenade went off unexpectedly, then scrambled after Sly and Lobe after regaining his composure, Eidolon covering their rear.

"Man, has everything gone apesh-err," he gave Lobe a wary glance,"crazy in here?" he groaned after catching up with the other two heroes.

"After this is over, I'm giving my contact a serious peice of my mind about the validity of his tips.." he added as the continued down the hallway of the ruined building.

Haunt glanced at the spectral assistance Fox had summoned, then looked back to Fox; he looked like he was in far worse shape than him.

Eidolon lanced out, striking the buckshot in the chest with a shadowy spine. A pulse of healing energy traveled down the spine and swirled around Haunt, healing his wound. He used the last of his energy to teleport next to Sly and slap a healing patch on his arm. After applying the respite patch, he dropped to his knees and tried to catch his breath, the powerful healing technique combined with the teleport draining most of his stamina.

Haunt caught Sly's gaze and shrugged, Eidolon still trying to get a glimpse past Lobe down the hall.

"Now where are these heirloo-"

A tug at the edge of Haunt's perception caused him to focus on what Eidolon was viewing. It had caught a glimpse down the hallway, and was looking at at least three Trolls, one of which was laughing in a grunting, growling voice as it brandished a shotgun, still smoking from shooting at Fox.

"Bah! I take it these are your new 'friends', Lobe?" he asked, his annoyance at not noticing them sooner evident. He sprung into action, jumping headlong into the trio of trolls and unleashing a whirlwind of shadow-packed punches. A hard crack to the jaw sent one down, but the buckshot had gotten the chance to take a shot at him. Haunt nearly dodged the shot, but it still managed to catch his shoulder, splintering several of the bony spines protruding from it.

"Damn," he snarled under his breath before turning to the Buckshot, one hand inspecting the extent of the damage on his shoulder.

Haunt watched the other heroes enter the building, then teleported in, appearing above Sly and Lobe long enough to hear the exchange between the two.

He hovered spent a few moments hovering about, trying to see what Sly was looking at, but gave up in futility soon after, floating down to stand next to the heroes. Eidolon, however, still tried to look past Lobe down the hall.

"Yeah big guy, what's going on in here? Who is this Mr. Brown exactly, and is he in here somewhere..?"

"The Sly Fox? I guess the best way to decribe him is always having a woman on his lap, a drink in his hand, and a fresh slap mark on his cheek. He seems like a good enough guy, I guess."

--The Daring Haunt and Eidolon

((I hate to bring this back up from page three, but I wanted to give the thread another chance before it fades away..))

"Indeed, let's get this over with," Haunt said, before disappearing into the portal. He traveled across the city area, confident the others would follow, and any stragglers could be pulled along by Sly.

If anyone had been watching him as he teleported across Baumton, they would have noticed that he seemed to take gradually longer to reappear out of the netherworld, and always gave the golden ring at the least a glance before disappearing into the shadowy plane.

Before long, the group had reached the location shown by the strange girl in the straight jacket. As they assembled around the building entrance, Haunt spoke up.

"So, if our friend here is right," he motioned to the girl, "the Tsoo are inside here, with a cache of dangerous artifacts. What's our plan?" he looked at each of the heroes assembled in turn, before his gaze rested on Lyle, the man seeming to at least have the appearance of being familiar with combat tactics.

Hrmm..well,as long as there's an (un)official place, I'll pop in when I get the chance.

Issue #2: A Tale of the Desert

It's whispering again.

For as long as I can remember, I've had the dreams. I'd be in my room, or the basement, or sometimes just some road in the dead of night, and it would be there. A shadowy figure, always looking about the same age as me when I dreamt it, but that's where the similarities ended. It was dreadfully skinny, its skin wispy, seemed to flow and rustle as it stood in the edges of the shadows. It never tried to hurt me; it just stood there, staring into me with cold, empty eyes.

Four years ago, when I turned thirteen, it began to speak, a quiet, raspy voice, at first unintelligible, but soon I could understand it, a message, a warning.


"Can't hold it back any longer..learn..to control.."

I still don't get what it means, but that's what it says. And it says it often. There was one week where I'd had the dream every night, it just whispered the message in its rasping tone for what seemed to be hours on end.

Happy birthday to me.

Luckily, about two months ago, the dreams suddenly stopped. Unluckily, now I hear the voice. Creeping at the edge of my consciousness, its familiar raspy voice muttering in the back of my mind, not just the warning anymore, though it still sees fit to remind me of it; now it's common things, like an eerie post-it-note in the recesses of my brain. "Don't forget the keys", "The dishes are dirty", "The dog needs to go out".

I think I may be losing my mind.

Yeah, I know, "crazy people don't know they're crazy". Bu I find myself talking to it, thanking it even. I'm listening to a disembodied voice from my dreams, not to mention trying to carry on a conversation with it. I'd say I've got good reason to doubt that theory.


"Ian, you must learn to control it..I can't do it any longer.."


My eyes widened in shock. This was the first time the voice had ever referred to me by name, or to itself at all.

"What do you mean?! Control what?!" I asked, finding myself yelling before I realized I was doing it.

Silence.

I cursed silently as I looked out the window of my room. The mid-June sun was shining brightly, casting a cheery golden-yellow overtone to the quiet suburb I grew up in. I turned back to face my room, and after taking a few steps I flopped down onto my bed. I lie on my back and think about the message.

I don't know what it can't control anymore, but it has to have something to do with my body. My mind shifts back a few years, when my 'gifts' first began to appear. It started with a loss of appetite, a paler complexion, nothing too unusual, it's probably just a cold, right? He'll get over it. That's what my parents thought, and before long it'd been two months, and it still hadn't "cleared up". I became even paler, my skin turning a shade of dull purple, and my hair began to fall out. When I was fifteen.

At least I didn't have to worry about shaving.

Needless to say, my parents decided it was a good time to break the news: I was a mutant. A meta-human. An anomaly. At first I was excited. Mutants were the kids who got super powers and went off on crime-fighting adventures. I couldn't wait to find out what I'd be able to do.

Six months later, I found out my abilities ran the gamut of getting beat up at school and making my eyes turn glowing red. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly getting invites from top secret military organizations or special meta-human training schools.

It wasn't all bad though, I had still had friends, even if it took some convincing that spikes would shoot out of my body one day and impale them or anything of the sort. I finished freshman and sophomore year at high school, I'm a junior now, and even if I still wierded out some people, I'd earned the respect of most of my peers, and picked up some fighting moves for those that still tried to mess with me. My parents supported me too, and their encouragement was definitely one of the most important things to help me learn to deal with the drastic change I'd gone through.

__________________________________________________

Two weeks later, I walk out of my high school, my last day of finals over, summer open in front of me. I don't head home though, no, I've been planning this since the night the voice called me by name. The note's already been written, they'll find it later. A few of my friends call out to me, a grin and call back, wish them a good summer. They look confused when they say they'll see me soon, and I don't respond. I keep walking, turn the corner, recover the small bag I'd packed and stashed beforehand.

I need to do this, I assure myself as I approach the train station, I need to understand whatever this voice in my head is, who this person in my dreams could be.

I pay the fare, most of the money I'd saved at the last minute, and took the train. I didn't look at the location, just decided to get on whatever train was coming in next. I climbed into the car, and watched my neighborhood disappear into the horizon as the train pulled off.

_______________________________________________

I look out into the small western town. It's getting late, the sun's hanging heavily in the sky. I've been here for a while, it's already August. The past few months have been interesting, to say the least. I place a hand over the bony spikes that had protruded through the skin on my shoulders. They were certainly unusual, and seemed to help most of my endeavors since they appeared. Every couple of weeks I made a late-night 'appearance' to an unwitting citizen, grab their purse or wallet, and bolt; so far they've had enough money to keep me fed for a couple of weeks. It seemed that my mutant 'abilities' were furthered during my travels, hitchhiking across the US before eventually reaching this small Arizona town; I only needed to eat once every five days or so, and only needed about two hours of sleep. Whatever time I didn't spend meeting those needs, however, was spent out in the desert. I'd usually wander for a day or so, taking time to rest and meditate, to will the voice to speak again, give me another clue. It's been silent ever since it spoke to me on that fateful evening nearly two months ago.


"Go into the desert"


My head snapped up in shock. Finally, I'd been waiting for this for so long, a response, a clue. To hell with insanity, I was desperate, needed answers, needed to understand this mysterious voice in my head.

"Why..?" I ask weakly, still shocked by the sudden command after two months of silence.


"A trial. Gather supplies, and go into the desert. There you will seek answers; there you will find help."


"But.." I fall silent, I somehow know it's done speaking. I search through my now travel-worn bag, I still have some money left. I head into town, to a small 24 hour shop, and pick up enough food and water to last me two weeks. I walk out of the town, and begin my journey into the Arizona desert.

_________________________________________________

I awake in a small room. I groggily glance around; the place is wooden, the only furnishings are the small bed I'm on and a table to my right, with a small mug sitting on it. I take in a breath, and smell what I think is tea. I sit up to reach for the glass, only to fall back, groaning at the pain reverberating through my skull. I can hear a sound from outside the room, I try to brace myself to fight, but find I'm too weak to do that either. The door slowly opens, and I'm greeted with the visage of an old man.

He is hunched over a cane, his dark, squinting eyes boring into me. The top of his head is bald, and his remaining hair is white and wispy. His mustache and beard look more like thick strands of hair that intertwine as they descend from his face. Even through this outward appearance, I sense a certain power, the strength of a prize fighter hidden behind years of age, a certain shine behind his dark eyes.

"Well? Are you just going to lie in bed all day young man?" his voice was quiet and amiable, but the inner strength that seemed to belie all of his appearances was also present.

"What... happened..?" I ask him, the words difficult to form in my dry throat.

"That can wait, for now, you need to recover. The herbal tea on the table will help you heal. I will be outside when you feel ready to leave the room," his tone was stern, yet soothing, even through the throbbing in my skull. He crept out of the room, and I set to work on gathering the strength to sit up.

Two days later, I finally managed to stand, and weakly made my way out of the small bedroom. The old man was outside, and after a few minutes of conversation, he explained how I had ended up in his small shack in the middle of the Arizona desert.

According to him, I'd stumbled into his little recluse a week ago, dehydrated and covered in what looked to be coyote claw and bite marks. He took me into his house, and took care of my wounds (though he said for some reason most of my wounds healed on their own). When I asked him why he helped me, he seemed to think about it for a moment, before telling me that it was a good thing to do, and then telling me that he sensed some hidden power within me. My red eyes lit up when he said that, this man could be the one to teach me the 'control' I'd been seeking since June. We continued speaking, and when he mentioned, not very much to my surprise, that he was a retired martial artist, I begged him to train me. After much deliberation, he reluctantly agreed, with the condition that I was committed to working hard, for long hours each day, from tomorrow on. I almost instantaneously agreed, and his eyebrows slightly rose in surprise at my eagerness.

"Alright then, get some rest young one, tomorrow your training will begin.."

And so ends the second chapter of Haunt's story. Placing the book on the ground, the next comic in the box is revealed: Chapter 3- The Shadeflame Master.

"I see...guess I'll hang on to it until we figure out what exactly it is, then.."

As Haunt slid the ring back onto his finger, Eidolon glanced warily at it, after noticing Lyle's reaction to the ring.

Meanwhile, the two security gaurds perused Fox's ID, acknowledged its validity, and stepped to the side, allowing them to enter the gate.

"Okay, admission granted. Please exercise caution within this area, and..good luck," The last part was said with sincerity, as opposed to the standard procedure words they are required to say to all entering the hazard zone.

The group passed through the gateway into 'Boomtown'. As they passed through, the guard on the left added, "Yeah, I saw a man fitting your description. I believe I saw him leaping in the direction of the Powderkeg Sector."

Haunt had been here several times, but the reckless destruction of the area sent a shudder down his spine every time he entered.

"Alright," he said, still looking out to the ruined skyline, "let's get going." Eidolon began slicing open a portal.