Growing Up Paragon

Because I simply can't let an April Fool's Day go by without SOME kind of silly post... I give you my interpretation of what it is like to grow up in the suburbs of Paragon City.

Enjoy.

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Molly was pretty sure her parents, in addition to be sadists, were also possessed of some of the highest tech surveillance equipment known to mankind. How else could one possibly explain their uncanny ability to call her to perform odious chores the moment she sat down to play video games?

“Molly!”

Sure enough. She sighed and took her finger away from its quarter inch distance from the power button. She knew better than to ignore the voice of her mother; it was possible to squeak some leeway from her father but her mother was directly descended from Hun stock. While it had never been stated out loud, Molly was fairly convinced that disobedience was grounds for summary beheading.

Sighing softly, she hopped up from the couch and went off in search of Attila the Mum.

“Yeah, Mom?”

Eve turned around and smiled at her only child. “I need you to take the trash out to the corner for tomorrow’s pick up. Do you mind?”

Let’s see, Molly mused, drag four bags of stinky, probably leaking, bags of garbage that likely massed half her body weight each out to the garbage cans all while praying to whatever deity was listening the plastic didn’t rupture when she hefted them up and inside? Mind? You bet your royal red hiney I mind!

“No problem,” she said and walked from the kitchen.

She was lucky this time. None of the bags had torn and there had been minimal leakage which lad left a thin brownish trail down one of her pant legs. However, as she hefted the final bag up and into the trash can something truly unusual happened.

A sudden fanfare of music played. She blinked in surprised and while looking around in confusion to see who the joker with the radio was, she saw two words hovering in air above her head.

Mission Completed!

She stared at the words for a moment before they faded away. She bit her lip, sure she must be going crazy. Maybe she shouldn’t have eaten that half-crushed Twinky she’d found under her bed yesterday. She hadn’t thought something made of absolutely NO natural ingredients whatsoever could spoil, but maybe she’d been wrong?

Molly was a sensible girl however, and she was relatively sure that food poisoning didn’t cause hallucinations of congratulatory text. She shrugged and turned towards the house again; ready to pass the whole thing off to an overactive imagination when more words caught her eye.

They grabbed her attention because while she spun towards the front door, the words stayed perfectly centered at the top of her vision. She stopped and tried to stare at them but the letters were white and she couldn’t quite make them out against the bright sky. She frowned but discovered, by looking straight down, the words swung with her and showed up quite nicely against the sidewalk.

Return to Contact.

Return to contact? What the hairy eye-balled heck was THAT all about? She started to walk back to the house but, as the words kept pace with her, she ended up running.

“Mom! Mom!” she screamed, streaking through the hall and leaving the door open behind her. “I’m being followed by the Narrator!”

A small bit of confusion later and her mother finally understood what had happened. To Molly’s complete shock, and no small amount of personal embarrassment, her mother seemed to tear up at the news of her daughter’s encroaching insanity.

“Oh, sweety,” she said with a watery smile. “You’re not going crazy. This is something that every child who lives in Paragon City or the Rogue Isles goes through. It means you’re growing up.”

Molly gave her mother a level stare. “I’ve got my own personal news scroll and that means I’m growing up? What do I get when I finally reach adulthood? My own cable channel?”

Her mother laughed and hugged Molly tightly. “Not quite dear,” she said and led the girl into the living room, sitting beside her on the couch. “See, Paragon City boys and girls reach a certain age and then they start to experience… changes.”

“Oh GAWD, Mom!” Molly said in horror. “We already had that discussion! Please don’t make me go through it again!”

“Not THOSE kinds of changes,” Eve laughed. “When Paragon children reach a certain age they get to choose whether they want to become a PC.”

“PC?” Molly frowned. “Like that guy on the commercials? Ew! I don’t wanna be an uptight nerd! Can’t I be a Mac instead?”

“Not a Personal Computer, dear,” Even said, feeling the onset of a mild headache. “PC in this case stands for Player Character. You get to decide if you want to be a PC or NPC. And before you ask, NPC means Non-Player Character. Children have to stay out in the suburbs, as you well know, because they are undeclared. Once you decide between PC or NPC you’ll be able to go into the city itself.”

“I thought you and Dad said I couldn’t go into the city because of the crime rate,” Molly said in an accusatory tone.

“We also said it was the Tooth Fairy who left you all that influence for your baby teeth,” Eve grinned unrepentantly. “Your father and I thought it was easier to tell you about all the crime than to explain that only PCs and NPCs were allowed inside the War Walls.”

“Okay, fine,” Molly rolled her eyes. “The parental conspiracy is alive and strong in the Williams’ household. Nothing new there. So what exactly am I deciding here?”

“Well,” her mother said, leaning back and looking thoughtful. “First you have to decide if you want to be a PC or NPC. After that you have other choices that will need to be made, but this is the first and most important. If you choose to be a PC then you can go on to be a Hero here in Paragon City or a Villain in the Rogue Isles. It’s a tough road to travel, but the rewards are phenomenal if you put enough effort into it.”

“Wow! You mean I can really be a super hero like Sister Psyche or Miss Liberty? That would be SO cool!”

“Oh yes,” her mother nodded. “You could also be a villain like Ghost Widow or Silver Mantis… well… maybe not like Silver Mantis.” Eve shuddered slightly and her frown grew dark. “I will NEVER understand your father’s obsession with that silver skinned little…”

“Back on topic, Mom,” Molly said, poking her mother in the ribs. “I wouldn’t want to be a villain anyway. The Rogue Isles are waaaay depressing. But being a hero could be SO cool!” She paused a moment, growing slightly puzzled. “Wait a minute. You mean everyone gets to choose whether they want to be an NPC or PC?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then why would anyone choose NPC? Why aren’t there nothing but super heroes flying around Paragon City?”

Her mother laughed and leaned back into the couch cushions. “Because most people are lazy and don’t want to put in the effort. Not to mention becoming a hero or villain PC makes you so WEAK.”

There was a long moment of stunned silence on the part of her daughter.

“Weak?!” Molly stammered at last. “Flying through the air? Beating up dozens of Malta or Nemesis enemies at the same time? Traveling to alternate dimensions and smashing them to bits? How in the heck can anyone think that is weak?!”

“Ah, but you’re seeing the end product, Molly,” her mother said. “Those heroes are the ones who put in endless hours of training and missions. When you first become a hero it’s a far cry from the ones you’re talking about. And you DO lose a lot of power becoming a PC from NPC. For example, do you remember our trip to the Grand Canyon two years ago?”

“Yeah…”

“You remember how you fell off the edge and straight down to the canyon floor two or three football field lengths below us?”

“Kinda hard to forget something like that, Mom.”

“And did you get hurt?”

“Of course not,” Molly said dismissively. “You can’t get hurt from falling. No one gets hurt from falling.”

“PCs do,” Eve said with a small smile. “If you were a beginning level PC and took that same fall you’d be so injured that if a single mosquito decided to use you as a snack upon landing you’d probably find yourself waking up in the hospital. Oh, and you might as well forget about jumping up to the top of our roof to get the Frisbee if it lands up there. You lose all your jumping abilities for at least the first five levels or so.”

“You have GOT to be kidding me!” Molly wailed. “How is someone supposed to be a super hero when they’re even more vulnerable than the people they’re trying to save?” She scowled darkly for a moment as she digested this information, then looked up hopefully. “But you said that PCs eventually get to be uber-powerful, right?”

“Yes,” her mother nodded, “if they work hard enough. Heroes who keep their nose to the grindstone; saving kidnap victims, defeating literally thousands of villains and street thugs, making deliveries for contacts too lazy to walk or too cheap to spring for cab fare, repelling alien invasions, carrying messages for contacts who don’t want to pay the cell phone charges for making the call themselves… Oh sure, if you can do all that long enough and if you’re lucky enough not to be the Avatar of a player who has bad Alt-itis and shelves you before you get to 12th level… well… then you should eventually become uber-powerful.”

Molly stared at her mother for a long time. This PC thing was definitely not shaping up to be what she’d expected.

“But the rewards are worth it right?” she eventually asked with an edge of desperation. “I mean, all the effort will eventually make you rich?”

“Well…..”

“Oh come ON!” Molly exploded indignantly. “You can’t tell me that being Statesman makes you the same income as being an NPC!”

“Statesman IS an NPC, sweetie,” her mother said gently. “All the Freedom Phalanx are NPCs. That’s why they all stand around all day giving out missions or training the PCs up when they reach a new level.”

This news devastated poor Molly. It was rather like finding out that Santa Claus was the president and CEO of Toys R Us.

“The pay scale for PCs and NPCs is actually about the same,” Eve continued as her daughter’s sat their slack-jawed, “which is why most people decide to stay NPC. Also there’s the wide variety of jobs that NPCs can do while Heroes are more or less stuck with the same thing. Then the jobs Heroes do are so hard compared to NPCs.”

“Wh… what do you mean?”

“Well, let’s look at comparative careers,” Eve said. “At entry level the NPC starts out as a street civilian. They walk around a city zone, then run screaming if they see a bad guy. Some may get ‘mugged’ which is good because it allows them to stand in one spot rather than run around all day. A PC’s entry level is missions and beating up bad guys.

“A little further along in their careers, the NPC can choose to either continue in civilian roles or branch out into a career as NPC bad guy. The civilian track may have them as a kidnap victim or running around inside mission buildings; dance clubs, offices, that sort of thing. Bad guy NPCs start out as Skulls or Hellions. That’s how your father and I met; he was a Hellion and I was a Hellion’s Girlfriend. A PC Hero or Villain at this point would be running missions and beating up bad guys.”

“But isn’t being a kidnap victim scary?” Molly asked, hoping that something about all this was the way she had originally envisioned it.

“Oh, not at all!” Eve laughed. “The kidnappers are all NPCs like you; just doing their job. In fact, some of them are the nicest people! Would you believe I got that new chile recipe you like so much from Frostfire, the Outcasts’ boss? You’re literally getting paid to just stand around socializing until the PC shows up to rescue you. It’s great fun, actually.”

Her mother went on to describe all the other possible jobs that NPCs could do.

“NPCs can become contacts and send out PCs to do their dirty work. PCs run missions and beat up bad guys.”

“NPCs can become heroes or arch-villains getting all the power and glory while just standing around all day. PCs run missions and beat up bad guys.”

“NPCs can become enemy MOBs and get into the action a little; but only fight one or two PCs a day before getting whisked away by the teleporter, still enjoying their powers and excitement. PCs run missions and beat up bad guys.”

“NPCs can become trainers and help level-up PCs… after those PCs have run enough missions and beat up enough bad guys.”

After several minutes of this sort of description, Molly finally threw her hands into the air in a gesture of surrender.

“I get it! I get it!” she said, shaking her head in bewilderment. “If all that is true… then why the heck would ANYONE ever want to be a PC?”

“Beats me,” her mother said with a shrug. “Your father thinks they’re all secretly masochists… Personally, I think it’s some kind of mental disorder.”

“How do I make sure I NEVER become a PC?” Molly asked, near tears in her desperation to avoid such a horrid fate.

“Just concentrate on making the choice and describe to me what you see,” her mother said.

Molly closed her eyes. “I see two lists. The one on the left says ‘Choose An Archetype’, the one on the right is titled ‘Choose An Origin.’”

“Good,” Eve nodded. “And down in the lower left corner do you see an arrow pointing in that direction?”

“Yeah, it says ‘Back.’”

“Click it.”

Molly imagined a small arrow, like the one on her computer, hovering over the Back icon and clicking it. Immediately the words all disappeared from her sight. She felt her entire being seem to shift indelibly to one side. Strangely enough, she felt nothing but pure relief at losing the option to become a working hero.

“That’s it?” she asked, opening her eyes once more.

“That’s it,” her mother smiled and gave her daughter a hug. “Next week you can go down to the NPC administration office and put in your application, if you want. In the mean time, I can show you some of my secret techniques for Purse-Tug-O’-War.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Molly said, returning her mother’s hug. “I don’t care what anyone says… to me you ARE a Hero.”

“And I don’t even have to work for it.”

Belissimo!

It's nice to see a funny topic from you that isn't a list.

Great Job. Reminds me of my SS/INV tank, Ordinary Joe, who was just a regular paragon citizen who one day realized that as long as you don't wear any spandex, you are totally indestructible...

One error though. Isn't Frostfire an (the?) Outcast's boss and not the Hellions?

Lol!

That made my day!


... along with Robin the boy hostage MMO

Bwa ha ha! "Mission Completed!"

Fun story!

"Yer mom was a Hellion Girlfriend!"

One obvious error: aren't all children in Paragon City required to be named Penny, even the boys? Or that just what they're called within the city limits, similar to the way all people, places, and things on the planet of Marklar in South Park are known as "Marklar?"

Tsk, tsk, poor Molly. All the positions for Trainers, Contacts, Arch-Villains, Heroes, etc were filled long ago. She's now stuck in the dead end job of Wandering / Panicked Civilian (although that's easy work) or as a nameless generic Minion / Lt / Boss and get beat up by the PCs on a constant basis. She made the wrong choice, if you ask me

Heh one of my RP characters takes meds to avoid exactly that situation. If she doesn't take meds she begins to notice the level up fireworks, the fact that trainers never eat, sleep or take breaks and questions why she has to talk to one of the established heroes in order to learn how to fire a gun when she's been doing a job which requires firearms training for years (metahuman bounty hunting) even prior to her joining the PPD.

Steel Claw delivers again Brilliant stuff

Quote:

Originally Posted by Zwillinger GG, I would tell you that "I am killing you with my mind", but I couldn't find an emoticon to properly express my sentiment.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Captain_Photon NOTE: The Incarnate System is basically farming for IOs on a larger scale, and with more obtrusive lore.

yes you probably will...evil Techbot is evil afterall...

This is like Westworld, but with avatars.

You need to work in a Yul Brynner cameo somewhere in a story, Steelclaw.

Ten points to those old enough to remember the movie (written by the same man who would go on to do Jurassic Park....)

S.