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About NuclearMind

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  1. RECORDER ON ,, Okay, is this damn thing on? Just talk and it'll record my voice? Great. Okay, This is Private First Class Daniel Karnack, Codename: Ogre. God, I hate that name, but I guess it fits. This is my report regarding the mission during which it became evident that I was a Dynamic. Am a Dynamic. Whatever. ,, Two weeks back, more or less, I was in a covert operation around [REDACTED], which is a village near the outskirts of [REDACTED], where we had found a German Army supply depot. It was our mission to disable this depot, neutralize or capture the soldiers and officers running it, and acquire any pertinent information or technologies at said site, especially if said technologies were of Dynamic origin. By the way, I really hate saying that word "Dynamic" all the time. Makes me sound like one of those cheap science-fiction films they show for the kids on the weekends. The ones with the guys with the rubber squid suits who are invading Earth. We need better jargon. ,, ​It turns out that said site was better guarded that we had been led to believe. I suspect this was a trap all along, which means our contacts in the area may be compromised. Private Donald Krump, who was our best scout, got bushwhacked and killed while on surveillance. When he didn't come back, we armed up and went after him, and we also got ambushed. Hard. Several of the men under my command died, the rest surrendered. As for myself, I was shot numerous times, and went unconscious. I now suspect the German troops though I had also been killed. My memories at this point are understandably vague, but I remember a sensation of falling. At this time, it was slight past 0630 hours. ,, Upon examination of the evidence, it appears I was buried in the ground nearby the depot. Fortunately for me, the hole they dug was right above a small cave. As I recuperated, I was brought to consciousness by excruciating, hellacious pains in my body, specifically in the large muscles. I was upset, it was dark and wet, and for awhile I was disoriented and unable to move. By the time the pains subsided, I was more aware of my situation, but at a loss as to what to do about it. Deciding that doing something was better than nothing, I climbed up the wall of the cave, and pushed. At first, I thought that I had been buried in a very shallow grave, but upon re-examination, I had somehow managed to push upward through about six feet of earth without having proper leverage. Also, at this time, it must have just past 1830 hours, as the sun was setting, but I then noticed that my muscles had swollen by an appreciable amount. I still do not comprehend how my uniform was still intact, not counting the bullet holes. ,, Surveying my location, I determined the location of the depot and surmised that was where my surviving men, if any, would be held captive. Knowing that our intel has serious omissions, at best, I waited until dark and improvised a plan to free my squad. I knew the risks: I was one man, assumed dead, and there were several of them, fully armed with conventional weapons, if not more. At the time, I did not realize that my being disarmed was not the impediment it appeared to be. ,, I ambushed a German scout, seeking to render him unconscious. I rendered him into a bloody pulp, which was...as I said, unexpected. Fortunately, I was also moving and reacting faster than usual, and interrupted him before he could raise an alarm. After cleaning myself up, I took his guns and ammo, plus some water and food he was carrying. ,, At that point, I had gotten in sight of the depot, a converted farmhouse. Improvising, I decoupled a sidecar from one of those German motorbikes, and found I could lift it and toss it like it was a football. I threw it towards the farmhouse, hoping to land it against the wall to create a distraction. It went through the building and out the other side, apparently taking a few of the Krauts with it, judging by the noises I heard. I ran like hell towards the back of the building, saw a back door, and charged it. It gave way easily. and i had about three Germans sitting there, staring at me in complete shock. I'll omit the gory details. ,, ​All told there were about eighteen of them. Some fired on me, but their bullets might as well have been mosquitoes, for all the good it did them. I just swung my fists around and cleared the area. Of my contact with these soldiers and I assume officers, none survived. In the nearby farm, I found my surviving teammates, plus three German guards. I was able to reason the guards into surrendering. Not surprising, given that by that point, I was covered in easily a gallon of German jackass-juice, bits of bone fragments, and formerly internal organs. My squad, recovering from my resurrection and state, got some weapons and tracked down a few other German soldiers not currently at the depot. Gave me time to heat up some water and clean myself up a bit. God, what a hell of a mess! ,, Regardless, we had some captives, some vehicles, and what looked like some valuable intel and equipment. This includes the location of a German Dynamic laboratory, located at coordinates [REDACTED]. The rest...I had one of my squad point me in the direction of Germany, and I hurled the stuff in that direction. I had him follow it with binoculars, and he lost sight of what I threw pretty quickly. Among the items flung were two Panzers in dire need of repair, and inoperable. For all I know, it all landed in Berlin. On reflection, this was not the wisest course of action, as I pretty much gave away evidence of a new Dynamic on the theater. But at the time, I was not thinking clearly, and I suspect the demoralizing effect of tanks and engines and trucks and motorbikes landing pretty far inside German territory from out of the blue might have a salutatory effect on any further exchanges with the German Armed Forces. ,, As to this mystery of what happened to me: According to the doctors here, that super-soldier program I underwent, supervised by [REDACTED], did not in fact fail, but was lying dormant until my misadventures triggered it into activity. I am already physically prepared to go back behind the Front Line, but mentally...the doctors agreed with me that some R&R for a week was probably for the best. The nightmares and my twitchyness are beginning to reside, and I need some time to get a handle on what I've become. And, according to the doctors, the super-soldier formulas may not be quite done with me yet. so, we'll see what happens. ,, Private First Class Daniel Karnack, Codename: Ogre, signing off.
  2. Daniel "Ogre" Karnack DOB: 15-May-1921 Right Handed Hair: Black Eyes: Brown Ht: 6' 8" Wt: 300 lbs. Birthplace: Sullen Hollow, WV, USA Blood Type: O Chargen Concept: One-Man Brute Squad, Super-soldier Experiment Gone Off the Rails Nature: Critic Allegiance: U. S. M. C. Str: 2/5 (Brutish) M-Str: 5 (Lifter) Brawl 5 , Might 5, Throw 5 Dex: 2/5 (Fast) M-Dex: 1 (Fast Tasks) Athletics 1, Drive 2, Firearms 2, Melee 2, Stealth 2 Sta: 2/5 (Tough) M-Sta: 3 (Durability, Resiliency x2) Endurance 4, Resistance 4 Per: 3 Awareness 3 Int: 3 Academics 2, Bureaucracy 1, Engineering 2, Intrusion 1, Linguistics 3, Medicine 1, Survival 1 Wits: 4/5 (Iron Nerves) Cha: 2 Man: 4 (Domineering) App: 2/4 (Imposing) Intimidation 3 Backgrounds: Attunement 2, Mentor 1, Contacts 2, Node 2 Quantum 4, QP: 26, Taint:, Willpower 3/5 W/R/S: 7/18/38 Initiative: +11 Soak: 10B/4L for Stamina + 6B/4L for M-Sta +2B Huge Size = 18B/8L Bruised (x3), Hurt, Injured, Wounded, Maimed, Crippled, Incapacitated, Dead 15 BP: 4 for 2 Willpower, 4 for Huge Size, 7 for 1 Quantum 40 NP: 4 for 12 Attributes, 15 for Mega-Strength 5 (Lifter), 9 for Mega-Stamina 3 (Resilient), 6 for Resiliency (x2) and Durability, 3 for Mega-Dexterity 1 (Fast Tasks) and 3 for 18 Abilities
  3. ,, Holy anal probe, it's Fabio! He does exist! was Rollo's first thought. His second one was, Every tan-in-the-can place from here to Russia is going to want him as a spokesmodel. Mercifully, somewhere along the way he'd learn to censor himself and put on manners when necessary. Even though he was taken aback by a dude who looked like the entire state of California rolled into one person, what came out was, "Hey, you're that guy on every Harlequin cover in the drug store. Wassup, dude! Holy shit, I did not know I was in the company of the famous. Could you hook me up with some of those babes? Cause, damn." He shook the shiny guy's hand, and smiled, hoping he hadn't pissed the guy off. Could probably give me third-degree burns and cancer on top. ,, "Hello." the golden young man said, the summery warmth of his aura playing over Rollo's face. "Alex Andrews. Miss Childs asked me to show you around, get you settled in your dorm, that kind of thing. This is your tour, so you get to decide on dorm room or tour first, though I'd leave the cafeteria for last." He frowned slightly. "Things have a tendency to get derailed in the cafeteria." He grinned then, and watched Rollo expectantly. ,, "Hey, Alex. Rollo Strange, not a doctor. Yeah, let's roll to my new crib, 'cause my gear is killing me." It was his fault for bringing both the guitar and the keyboard along, but having them would remind him to focus on his music, which was so far the only thing other than kicking back and slack-assing which kept his attention. "So...what's the deal with the cafeteria? Not the food, is it? Because I'm used to high school food, the kind you need a Hazmat suit to eat, or they make you sign a waiver. No shit, I found out that my old school had a deal with someone? We got the food that the prison system rejected, it was even stamped that way on the side of the boxes."
  4. Rollo was sitting in the Director's office, feeling well out of place. He blamed the decor; this was an office for parents of prospective students as well as interfering government bureaucrats and nosy reporters, meant to both soothe and intimidate by authority at the same time. It stated, boldly as possible without violating decorum, "We run a very tight ship around here, and you will not forget that." It wasn't designed to soothe young adults. Or maybe it was because Rollo had never pictured himself in a room like this without first having done something wrong and gotten caught. Even the chairs seemed stiff and reserved, but then again, Rollo's couch back home was only steps above being a beanbag. ,, Thankfully, the Director himself seemed both at home in the office, but not of it. Rather than sit behind a desk, he sat in the chair next to Rollo, turning it to face him. "Okay, Rollo? Rollo, good, they got that right at least. Here's the problem we're having on our end. The fact is that your 'gift', being a luck-collector or luck-catalyst, is both intriguing enough to certain scientists that they could push to override your admission here and make you a ward of the state, and just vague enough that most laymen aren't going to get how we can tell the difference between someone who's just very lucky and someone whose genetic code engineers them to be lucky. That's the bad news. In a nutshell, if the government wanted to fight us on your admission here, that's the most likely way they'd approach doing so." ,, "The good news is, I really don't think it'll come to that. Rollo, are you familiar with the Cold War of the last century? Did they teach you about that?" ,, Rollo pondered a bit, then said,"Oh, yeah. We were, like, on the brink of melting down the whole planet in a nuclear war because we were capitalist and the USSR was communist, or something dumb like that. Only both sides were too scared to actually pull the trigger, so instead of duking it out, we went all cloak and dagger against each other, like in the old Bond movies. It was like the world's longest chess match, and it got called because it went on for so long that people just got bored of it and canceled the game." ,, Not an entirely off-target metaphor, Director Drumm had to admit. "Well, it was more complicated than that, Rollo, and the stakes were very, very high at the time, but I think you have the basic idea. Well, we're engaged in a similar situation with certain people in our government. On the one hand, you and the other students here are mutants. And right now is an unfortunate time to be different. But on the other hand, people have not completely forgotten that you and your peers at the Academy are also children, or young adults getting ready to go out into the world and make your place. So those people don't dare make an open move in public, or they'll draw a lot of ire, make our cause seem sympathetic in comparison, and no doubt risk exposing some doings on their part that they'd rather keep hidden. This is good for you specifically, because your adopted family is still very close with you, your biological parents aren't...in a position to contest their decisions, and if the government does try to pull you out of here, odds are good that they'll open up a can of worms that they won't be able to re-seal." ,, The Director paused. "One thing that I'm going to ask you to work on during your stay at the Lawrence Hunt Academy is to see if you can develop your gifts to the extent that they can manifest in an obvious manner somehow. Despite what people think, these peculiar genetic manifestations can be worked on and improved, and that improvement is one of the many services we offer here. I don't often ask students to concentrate on their gifts, in fact I usually encourage them to not rely on those gifts unless it's an emergency. But in your case, Mr. Strange...Rollo...I'll make an exception and notify our staff accordingly. The officials who monitor this place may require some additional tests, and I hope to prove to their satisfaction that it's not worth their time or trouble coming after you." ,, "Of course, that brings us to the other area where your efforts are critical: your grades. You'll have to work much harder than you've been, Rollo. I do not expect every young person that comes in here to be a super-genius, but I do expect them to take this Academy seriously. It's hard enough out there being genetically different, but it's even worse without a good command of math, science, history, literacy, and physical fitness. The good news is, for you, that we have several students and many staff members who are willing to put in extra time and effort to assist you as best they can. Use their generosity, and use it wisely. Above all, make friends here: the connections you establish here will serve you well long after you graduate. These may be the last moments you have to prepare yourself before real life comes at you with the brakes off." ,, Rollo wasn't a good student, but he was good at people. He could tell that the Director was trying really hard to brace him for real life without scaring him so hard he needed therapy. "Wow...Hey, Director Drumm, I can say without any irony or sarcasm here, that was probably the best damn pep talk I've ever been given. Seriously! I know I don't look it or act it, sometimes? But I don't take my luck for granted. I'll bust my hump here same as anyone else. Right now, I'm hoping to make the most of your music and arts departments, because that's where I get my wings on, but yeah I'll be sure to push my grades up. Good news is: I make friends pretty easy, so that won't be that big a deal. Just know that I get you, and that coasting wasn't really on my to do list anyway." Well, it was, but I'll cross it off when I get to my dorm room, I swear. ,, Director Drumm nodded, and couldn't resist smiling a little bit. The boy has no idea, but if they're right about his mutation, maybe that's only to be expected. Well, he'll learn soon enough. "The only other question I have, Rollo, is about your choice for an alias. Strange Charm? How did you come by that?" ,, "Oh, yeah. well, one night my dad--my adopted dad-- kinda got into the weird mood" he was stoned out of his mind on some weed "and was reading to us about sub-atomic particles. I don't remember any of the rest of them, but I remembered that two of them were called Strange and Charm, and when I realized I was a mutant, I remembered that, and it seemed to fit." Rollo shrugged, as if to say, "Hey, it's my mind and that's how it rolls. Nothing I can do, man." ,, "Alright, Strange Charm, I think we've covered all we need to for today. do stop in if you have further questions, but please make an appointment first. I have here a map of the campus, with your room marked off. I believe I can find another student to help show you around the place. I'd wish you good luck, but apparently, you already have that in hand." They shook hands, and Rollo went to find his room and his guide.
  5. Another quick question: What Backgrounds do you have to take for what rank in your countries' militaries? Do we have a formal setup for that, or no?
  6. ,, Sweet as sin! That's a much, much better way to run it than when I was here last! ,, And since I'm here, I'm thinking about a character for this game. Is there any special pronouncement I have to make, or can I just dive in?
  7. I'm sorry I missed this topic on it's initial run-through. While I understand everyone's concerns (there's no way they could make these games into the games we all have pictured in our heads, let's face it), I still hold out hope that the game is old enough with enough feedback that the more egregious errors can be fixed without too many people feeling left out playstyle-wise. ,, Other than that, I agree with almost all the suggestions being presented here. Especially the indexing and table of contents. L4-L6 powers could be separated into their own section, with yellow tape that says STORYTELLER-OPTION ONLY!, and that should be that. Metaplot...I'm pretty sure that the Onyx Path guys have heard enough complaints about metaplot with the new exalted they're working on that it shouldn't be an issue. ,, What i'm hoping for is if they come up with better ways to customize and tweak powers a bit, help each PC be a little more distinct. That was one of the things that made me switch my Aberrant games to Wild Talents for awhile.
  8. I'm thinking of Lords of Gossamer and Shadow, when it comes out, which will be awhile. Just thought I'd poll for opinions in the meantime.
  9. I'm thinking of games like Amber, Nobilis, Lords of Olympus, and the upcoming Lords of Gossamer and Shadow. I realize they are tricky to run, and can rely on a lot of trust between players and ST, but have they been run successfully? Is there any enthusiasm, for such?
  10. As someone who would be happy to be involved in a FATE conversion, I'm eager to see this come to fruition.
  11. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, and alla that.
  12. Well, damn. Better than what I had planned. "Magic, isn't it? Lemme guess: That's how the whole jack-o'-lantern thing got started in the first place? Well, my name's Ronnie, pleased to meet you." "Well, she's got an idea that works, so let's get around the compound and make whatever's still here go away! I'm on point, you guys cover her, or something. I'll bet any money there's a lot more poor bastards like us that don't know the pumpkin trick. Let's go!" He let Cliff lead the way, his magic gun at the ready. At least now he didn't have to worry about running out whatever powered his gun. On the way, he turned to the girl and asked, "By the way, what's your name?" And thank you for stepping up."
  13. He saw their heads turn, and could almost feel the moment when they decided, in unison, to mob him. It was like a switch got thrown in his skull; the part of him that was just plain Ronnie seemed to drift a few feet away and watch, like he was ten and he'd gone with his brothers and daddy to the rasslin' matches at the fire hall, to watch a bunch of grown men in tights hurl each other into the ropes and pound each other stupid. Another part of him, dormant until that mall clusterfuck, stepped in and took control. It was a part of him that, until that day, had only woken up to watch all those action movies he and his dad had loved. And it knew what to do. Get them all to follow him, get to the high ground, get rid of 'em! And he twisted-turned-ducked-weaved and... He got out, but not without scratches that sizzled his nerve endings and promised all manner of badness if they caught him. He took off, hoping they'd follow him. He got to his old truck, got on the roof, and activated his magic gun. He could feel the cold steel in his hands, could feel the vibrations as it got eager for battle. He turned and fired into the mob of wraiths just behind him... Three down, a heaping handful to go. Hopefully, he'd given Cliff and the rest of the wall-watchers enough relief that they could rally and maybe save his ass. He readied his ghost-baster again...
  14. Yeehaw magic boomstick! Of course, now he had to get to his truck, get some guns and ammo, and get the fuck back in there. He couldn't help but think that if this didn't get him into the compound, nothing would. Well, no harm in being practical. Of course, even if he got the guns, it might not do any good; ghosts he'd read about had a bad habit of ignoring bullets. But still, better they get armed and get to feeling like they could fight back, because if he remembered his scary ghost stories right, ghosts tended to feed on fear. And if you fight back, they'd lose. So, he grabbed part of his stash, and ran. ______________________________ Well, fuck! In the few minutes he'd spent composting his past mistakes, Cliff and the others had been backed against the wall by theirs, and a few others looked like their souls had been turned into Happy McGhostMeals. Well, nothing for it but to blow away the big offenders and maybe put the rest to running. He fired. BAM! BAM! BAM! Well, shit. One shot went wide, knocking a chunk out of the wall. But the other two connected, sure enough. They just stood there all fat, scary, and happy right before Ronnie's little miracle blew them into misty goo. The two guys who looked like they were getting zombified passed out, but immediately regained some semblance of color. "All right, LISTEN UP YOU ECTO-PLASMO MOTHERFUCKERS! You all think that just 'cause y'all died once means you can't die again. Well, my magic gun says otherwise. So if you don't want to make this big reunion more goddamn miserable than it already is, best you either get the fuck outta here, or put some goddamn manners on! Go harass some zombies or some shit, and leave the living alone! Go on, git!" Maybe, if he was just lucky enough, these things weren't as deep-down predatory as zombies, and would listen to the reason of total annihilation. Maybe.
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