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Everything posted by ProfPotts

  1. Author's Notes: Although I've tried to follow the style / themes presented in the ReignofEvil.com book - sex, violence, & Satanism aren't the sort of thing everyone wants to read about... Astaroth closed his eyes & tilted his head back, breathing in the heady scents of sex, sweat, blood, & beer which permeated his Hall, whilst the pounding drum-beats, insanely fast guitar rifts, & screaming Satanic lyrics of Black Metal music echoed through his brain, & Freya sucked hard as her head bobbed up & down in his lap. Grabbing the girl’s implanted blonde hair roughly in one powerful, tattoo & ritual scar-covered hand he urged her to greater speed. Astaroth quite liked Freya – she wasn’t the Freya he really wanted, of course, that Nordlysene bitch that’d been so dismissive about his Church when asked by that reporter – but this Freya was close to his idea of perfection: body sculpted by excessive weight-training combined with cosmetic implants – breasts, lips, hair – to create that Boris Vallejo barbarian-princess look. Kneeling naked before him, tanned skin glistening with perspiration, wrists lashed together behind her back, giving her all in her worship of her dark god… yes he quite liked Freya. Of course, what he really wanted was to take her in his soul form – to feel her warm blood & entrails on his demonic flesh as she danced her death-throes, sacrificed on the alter of his lust: but that was a pleasure he was saving for a special occasion. For now he happily enjoyed her more mundane ministrations. ,,Opening his eyes as Freya continued her enthusiastic stimulation Astaroth glanced around his domain, his Hall. Well, technically he admitted to himself, right now it was an old warehouse his huskarls had broken into earlier in the week – but it suited his purposes just fine: spiritually, it was his Hall. Seated on his throne of bones (well, it had real human skulls mounted on the arms anyway), flanked by two braziers (he didn’t really need the heat himself, but he liked the effect, & having a source of fire so he could play with his demonic powers) he looked out to see his followers enjoying themselves. Astaroth considered himself a generous god, he made sure his devoted had everything they needed: drugs, alcohol, Black Metal music on tap, plenty of weights to work out with, & plenty of entertainment. He focused on some of that entertainment taking place across the room: several of his dæmons were taking turns hurling hand axes at a round wooden target – a target with a hole in the centre through which had been thrust the head of one of the women they’d kept from their raid on Thor’s hippies. The girl’s long hair had been fashioned into three braids, which were spread out & fastened to the target – the object of the ‘game’ was to sever the braids without hitting the girl. Astaroth couldn’t remember if he’d adapted the idea from genuine Viking practices, or from some old Hollywood film he’d seen as a kid – either way it didn’t matter, he liked it, & so did his followers. The girl was, delightfully enough, screaming the place down (although her protests & begging couldn’t be heard over the noise of the music) with tears streaming down her face. Head & neck locked securely into the target, wrists bound behind her, legs fastened apart she couldn’t do much more than scream & flinch in terror each time a drunken dæmon threw another axe. Even better, Astaroth thought, she was unable to resist the attentions of those huskarls behind her who were taking every advantage of her vulnerable & exposed position. Of course, Astaroth recalled, sometimes (depending on just how drunk & high his followers were) a poorly thrown axe would hit the girl – several had died, but then that was all part of the thrill. One had lost an ear & been sent on her way to peels of laughter… & then there was Hel… Hel was one of Astaroth’s favorites: she’d been happy to party with his dark Church, indulging in all the free sex, drugs, & alcohol, but had been as reluctant as all the rest when they decided to try her at the game. The axe had hit her, destroying the left side of her face & her left eye as it imbedded in her skull, but somehow she’d lived. Someone had taken her to hospital, where her life was saved, but she’d refused to tell the police what had happened. Weeks later she’d ‘escaped’ & returned to Astaroth – that was the sort of loyalty he wanted from all his followers. With half her face scarred by the terrible wound, & the left half of her dark hair turned white, Astaroth had re-named her Hel after the half-corpse Norse goddess of death – again he couldn’t recall if he’d been influenced by mythology or fantasy comics, but Hel had seemed to like it, & had taken to her new role well: embracing the symbolism she’d subjected herself to a degree of ‘barking’ which had impressed even Astaroth – having the entire left side of her body flayed, all at once. She’d laughed & screamed in equal amounts as they did it. Of course, the establishment doctors would say she was brain-damaged by the axe-wound – Astaroth liked to think she was devoted. With one half of her body now truly a ghastly mass of scar tissue, & the other still beautiful, Hel had become quite a feature in the Church of Astaroth: while Astaroth initiated all the females who entered his inner circle himself, he decided to make fucking Hel part of the initiation rites for the males. Those who couldn’t manage the act, disgusted by the girl’s appearance, would be beaten & cast out. Of course, those who did indulge were playing a sort of roulette – whatever the wound had done to her brain Hel could snap at any moment. For one initiate she would lie as still as a corpse, for another she’d be in a rage of passion like a cat on heat, but sometimes she’d just go totally nuts & try to kill the guy – clawing at his eyes & balls, biting & spitting. Astaroth found that the most amusing of all, & always looked forward to one of her little ‘episodes’ – so far she’d managed to kill two initiates, & cripple several more: when she was like that they had to really pin her down, or beat her, in order to complete their initiations: but those men Astaroth wanted as his loyal troops most of all – warriors willing to go all the way. Sometimes Astaroth would send Hel out to grant death to someone who’d pissed him off, sometimes he’d let her execute huskarls who’d failed him – she seemed to get the most pleasure out of those killings. The only thing which really disappointed Astaroth about Hel was her failure to erupt – she’d have made a beautiful Domitor. ‘Astaroth!’ the Domitor was stirred from his thoughts by the call of one of his dæmons, who ran up to his throne brandishing a laptop computer, ‘Astaroth,’ the man continued, trying to catch his breath as he opened the laptop (resting it without any thought on Freya’s bobbing head) in front of his dark god, ‘you’ve got to see this! I was watching this thing about those Nordlysene posers when this came on…’ Forcing Freya’s head still, ignoring the little choking noises she started to make, Astaroth watched the OpNet video clip – what did he care about destruction in Chad? Destruction was good… Unless that had something to do with the ReignofEvil OpNet site crashing earlier? Didn’t they host it out in one of those African counties? Still, why would this idiot bother him with… then he saw it: Thor… alive. When news of his disappearance after fighting Hannibal had spread Astaroth had taken the opportunity to lead his own worshippers against that poser Elite’s damned hippies… but if he was still alive… Astaroth was fairly certain that Thor wasn’t really the Norse god he claimed to be, but still… he was an Elite with a pretty impressive record, & would probably take the assault on his followers personally. This could mean trouble… Standing up – sending the laptop tumbling to the ground & batting a spluttering Freya aside – Astaroth spoke to his devoted followers, ,,‘Prepare for war!’ he declared, ‘For the gods are going to do battle!’
  2. What's a 'wiki'? ::confused Apart from that, sounds interesting! Tell us more... ::sly
  3. Insane work load + family visiting... sorry for the lack of posting, it may be a while... ::unsure
  4. SkyLion - I like to think I'm a pretty reasonable guy... if you have a problem with the way I run games, & feel the need to constantly take issue in public forums, then the simple solution is - don't play in my games. Yes... for once I feel the 'pissed off' smiley is in order... ::angry
  5. Okay - this may be a stupid request considering the stated subject matter of the game, but is there any chance of getting a description of supposed 'dead guy'? I ask because, let's face it, the first guy Buddy met was described as looking pretty zombie-like - & Buddy didn't shoot him. After all, I'm not trying to make the guy into a psycho here - he's not about to start shooting people for no good reason. Now, being the animated dead may well be a good enough reason to get you shot but, his B-movie-inspired persona aside, there's actually not much reason for Buddy to believe that guy 2 is a zombie any more than guy 1 is... Maybe they both are, maybe neither - who knows? Put another way - am I to take the 'dead guy' description as meaning that Buddy knows for a fact that guy 2 is the walking dead? If so, how does he know? Is the guy an animated skeleton or something? Or does he just look like a plague victim, like pretty much everyone else has over the past week or so? 'Dead guy' is, at this point, kinda' vague... ::unsure
  6. Building a Better Jobber Beyond the low-level nobodies the XWF employ en-mass are the mid-card fighters with developed personas, actual wins in their win-loss records, & a certain level of genuine fan-appeal, fame, & following. These tend to be called up from the XWF development. The XWF development is a series of recruitment & training programs which give hopefuls the chance to become a Nova-class combatant in the XWF. The (physical) trials to get in are brutal (with a day-one 90% drop-out rate), & the following six or so month training program even worse, but those who complete the course have a genuine shot at (minor) stardom in the XWF. An average trainee in the development starts out with 3 in each Physical Attribute & Appearance, 2 in all other Attributes, & 2 to 3 dots in Might & Endurance (& often Athletics, Brawl, &/or Martial Arts as well). Training for the first four or so months is a punishing regime of weightlifting, squats, cardiovascular exercises, & other conditioning designed to build two things – muscle & endurance. Whilst going through this torture the recruits are also subjected to a course of Insulin-Like Growth Factor ‘steroid virus’. Unlike Mite, ILGF is in something of a legal grey area – it’s a controlled substance, but can be prescribed by doctors. The XWF training centres have vast medical staffs monitoring every aspect of the recruits’ health & physical development – getting a quack to sign-off on the treatment isn’t a problem. It’s expensive stuff, but the XWF usually gets a great return on its investment once the new fighter is ready. At the end of this initial training period those recruits who haven’t dropped out (or been dropped – which happens automatically if they suffer a heart attack due to the ILGF) will have attained scores of 5 in both Strength & Stamina, as well as 5 dots in both Might & Endurance (a top-notch staff of Instructors can work wonders). Unlike a typical Mitoid, at this point the recruits tend to look not so much like hulking monsters, but rather more like chiselled Greek gods – many could already pass as ‘Novas’ to the unenlightened. The last two months or so of training focuses on the recruit’s other skills, developing an in-Zone persona &, in many cases, some elective surgery to get them looking even more like Novas. The Abilities of Athletics, Brawl &/or Martial Arts are raised, as well as the all-important Style or Intimidation (depending on the persona’s role) & those Perform skills needed to sell an opponent’s attacks. Surgery involves such things as glowing NovaEyez™ contact lenses being grafted to the corneas (the normal lenses have a tendency to get knocked out in fights), implanted LEDs under the skin in various places & patterns, & (if the fighter is destined for the Red or Black Circles) spine, blade, & claw-like projections being added to the body (generally organic looking, but usually made from high-tech Nova-age surgical steel or similar materials). Female fighters (yes, they develop Divas too) almost always get a boob-job to enhance the femininity of their sculpted physiques, & some get more extensive plastic-surgery as well (most Divas coming from the development have an Appearance of 4). Compared to a scrub Mitoid, the fighters who come up from the XWF development are professional, trained, entertainers & athletes… they’re just not quite superhuman enough to compete. To address this issue, before a match one of two things generally happens: either the fighter drops some Mite, or they get boosted up by N’dolu Nyala – the Nova known as ‘The Power Monger’. In the first case, because the fighter already has Strength & Might Traits at 5 each, the hit of Mite boosts their strength, temporarily, to Mega-Strength 1. The advantage over a true Mitoid is that the fighter doesn’t resemble a grotesque hulking mound of muscle – so many development fighters end up a ‘faces’ versus Mitoid ‘heels’. The disadvantage is that Mite is highly addictive – however, while a few development fighters end up as true Mitoids (although generally better looking – as they hit that permanent Mega-Strength one after losing just a single dot of Appearance rather than the usual two), they tend to have high Willpower scores (they made it through six months of training Hell after all), & the Mite is provided in limited doses - & only for matches & the occasional public display of power. This results in the fighter becoming more addicted to the XWF (since the orgasmic thrill of the Mite becomes psychologically linked with the rush from a physical match & the buzz of the crowd reaction) than they are to the drug itself. In the second case Nyala’s Nova ability to Boost another person’s Strength, Dexterity, & Stamina, works well with the development fighter’s high Physical Attributes &, on average, results in a fighter with Mega-Strength 2 to 3, Dexterity 5 to Mega 1, & Mega-Stamina 2 to 3 – at least for the scene in which the match takes place. (At Quantum 6 Nyala is, technically, one of the world’s most powerful Novas – he’s also one of the most focused, his only real power being a single dot of Boost [strength] + Extra Attribute [stamina] + Extra Attribute [Dexterity] + Extended Effect + Other Person he’s developed over his years as an Elite, then an XWF Superstar, into a Level 4 power). While Mega-Stamina helps the fighter’s Soak & (sometimes) increases their Health Levels, it still falls short of making them a match for real Red or Black Circle fighters’ attacks – but they’re good enough to put on a great-looking show, & are employed to lose to the big boys anyway. In some instances (usually Black Circle matches) a fighter will take the Mite hit as well as being Boosted by Nyala - & a lucky roll by the Power Monger can always boost the fighter up to Mega 5 anyway – so ‘boosted’ jobbers can actually hit pretty hard on occasion… which is all the better for preserving the illusion that the XWF is a totally shootfighting league. Matches involving the mid-card fighters from the development are generally much more impressive & popular than pure Mitoid versus Mitoid combats. Where Mitoids have the physical power to hurl themselves across the Zone in huge leaps, a development fighter can use that same leaping ability to perform incredible aerial stunts drawn from the old pro wrestling playbooks – moonsaults, shooting stars, flying crossbodies, & the rest all take on a new level of spectacle when the guy performing them can leap fifteen feet in the air! Mid-carders tend to have much better developed personas & Zone presence as well, playing to the crowds in a way the average Mitoid never masters. Sometimes they also sport gimmicks incorporated into their personas – anything from such tried & tested methods as a ‘mist’ attack (coloured water sprayed from the mouth into the face of an opponent, who reacts as if it were blinding acid, choking poison, or some such), flash-paper ‘fireballs’, or more high-tech such as a ‘lightning’ themed persona who has laser-electroshock technology secretly built into his costume so that he can be seen to ‘hurl lighting bolts’ around the place. At the end of the day the XWF is sports entertainment – as long as the marks are cheering (& paying) then who cares if the fighters are really real Novas or not? ::wink
  7. One Dot Wonders Okay, so we mention the ‘jobbers’ of the XWF quite a bit, but what can they actually do? How come the marks don’t notice the difference between them & full Novas, & what the heck does a jobber bout look like anyhow? Well, the basic ‘jobber’ is a Mitoid, just like the one listed in page 283 of the Aberrant core rule book; there are other types of non-Nova jobbers (which I’ll get to later), but the lowliest scrubs & bums of the Federation are muscle-bound Mite-heads supplied by Yai Lokampang & his Heaven Thunder Triad connections. This doesn’t mean they’re all Asian gangsters or anything – just that the people who supply the illegal Mite trade are the ones who tend to know all the Mitoids around the world. Some of these hulking brutes will be die-hard bodybuilders, some ex-gang-bangers, others XWF wannabes who are willing to go a little too far to join their heroes in the Zone. Often they’re drawn from the country where the show is being staged, used for a few matches, then dropped when the XWF moves on – this type of ‘disposable scrub’ or ‘weekend warrior’ tends to have little training but great enthusiasm. Once a Mitoid’s been accepted into the show they’re put through their paces, assessed for skill level, Zone presence, & other such relevant talents, given some basic training & instruction (mostly being shown how to not kill each other or themselves whilst fighting), packaged in whatever (often recycled) gimmick persona the PR boys come up with, & pointed towards the Zone. Such low-level scrubs can fight each other, mid-carders (to pad the more valuable asset’s records), or face Novas in squash matches. The only real ‘superhuman’ aspect of a Mitoid is a single dot of Mega-Strength without any Enhancements. Whilst this may look pitiful against the dot-fest which is a PC’s character sheet, it’s enough to provide the high-energy show of movement & power which the marks come to see… Jumping: With 10 dice in their Might pools, & 5 auto-successes from that Mega-Strength dot, a Mitoid averages 9 successes on any Might-based roll - this means that, on average, a Mitoid’s powerful leg muscles can propel him four & a half meters vertically, or eighteen meters across. That’s around fifteen feet high & sixty feet across in old money! XWF jobbers (just like the old pro wrestlers, really) spend a lot of time showing this off by leaping around the Zone – gimmicked Zone configurations, like platform matches or pit matches, exploit this aspect of their ‘power’ as much as possible, in addition to the ‘classic’ leaps off the top rope or the top turnbuckle of the ring. A good roll on a jump can carry a Mitoid within arm’s reach of the top of the vitrium barriers, allowing five star bumps from the top of the barriers (much like a death-defying pro wrestler leaping or being thrown from the top of a cage in an old-style cage match). The marks love this sort of stuff &, as long as the jump’s a controlled one (i.e. a jump rather than a real fall) the jobbers can usually get away with it without suffering too serious an injury. Lifting: That 10 dice Might pool & one dot of Mega-Strength means that, on an average roll, a Mitoid can lift 1,800 kg above his head. This makes all sorts of large & impressive objects fair game as weaponry – such as cars, lampposts, or trees. Naturally, a typical arena doesn’t sport trees in the ring, but the ring itself is often designed so that (after a little damage has been done) it can be used as such ‘super-weapons’: e.g. the vertical poles in a platform match can be ripped up & swung like a lamppost. Quite a few Mitoid matches are also ‘themed’ to provide such ‘tools’ in the Zone: junked cars being a fan favourite (a ‘Junkyard Match’). Throwing: A Mitoid can throw a 1,000 kg object up to fifty meters, anything less than 500 kg he can throw a whopping 250 meters (a full quarter kilometer)! Either is plenty enough distance to chuck things clear from one side of the Zone to the other – some XWF jobbers have been known to hurl tree-sized objects clear out of the arena the event is taking place in (although, due to the risk to the audience & bystanders, this is discouraged by the management). Using one of the many possible variations of the ‘Throw’ combat move a Mitoid can hurl his opponent a full fifteen meters (around fifty feet) – so actually throwing each other over the barriers & out of the Zone can, & does, happen! Smackdown: thanks to that dot of Mega-Strength, a Mitoid can use both variants of the ‘Smackdown’ combat move – allowing them to utilise ‘finishers’ every bit as impressive as those of their Nova counterparts. A leap from the top of the barriers can even allow a Mitoid to make an Aerial Splash attack! So, at the basic level, what do the marks see? Two mean-looking, hulking, bare-chested men dressed in tight-fitting leggings powering around the Zone with superhuman leaps, swinging at each other with phone-pole sized clubs, & hurling each other huge distances: i.e. Nova-class combat sports entertainment at its (almost) best! The big downside of the Mitoids (apart from their tendency towards heart failure, & that whole going berserk thing) is their inability to Soak the punishment they can dish out. A typical Mitoid has 4 Bashing Soak… that’s it. If he goes nuts he doesn’t take wound penalties, but then again, if one or both Mitoids in a match go nuts, then it’s pretty much over anyway. Even two or three simple, average damage, stiff Strikes from another Mitoid is enough to KO a scrub jobber – smashing a car over his head can seriously damage his health (potentially killing him in one shot). This is where the old-style pro wrestling tactics come into play: generally marks come to watch the action more than they come to see someone getting seriously hurt (a minority are that sick, but most aren’t) – a match that lasts fifteen minutes is generally going to get a better reaction than one which lasts ten seconds. So, XWF jobbers are encouraged to thrown fluff & sell attacks… the problem is often that they’re just not that well trained – after all, the ability to realistically simulate attacks & injuries is a hard skill to master. The XWF tends to get around this flaw in their bum jobbers by getting them to spend a lot of time throwing things at each other (& missing), swinging wild, & leaping about. Not only does this highlight the fighters’ raw physical strength, but it’s a lot easier to do than real selling of supposedly full-contact blows. The basic skill the jobbers are taught before entering the Zone is generally that of pulling the auto-successes from their Mega-Strength when hitting each other. This results in real blows, but ones the jobbers have a chance to tolerate, & requires less acting skill that full-fluff attacks. The ringside commentary team play a big part in selling this illusion of full-on Nova-class shootfighting by referring to the fighters’ ‘superhuman ability to withstand damage’ when such blows land (e.g. ‘That punch would surely have killed a normal man!’ or ‘This fighter obviously displays some level of Nova-class invulnerability’).
  8. Rest hold: a loose hold maintained to extend the match while both fighters conserve energy, often used during commercial breaks so that the at-home audience doesn’t miss too much action. Time spent in a rest hold doesn’t count towards the duration of Maintenance powers. Rest holds in the XWF last no longer than 10 turns / 30 seconds (after which time the held fighter is considered to have submitted under the basic rules of the XWF), but sometimes fighters will spot a series of rest holds to stretch out the duration of a match. Ring Rat: a fan with amorous feelings towards wrestlers who frequents live events in the hopes of flirting or bedding them (i.e. an XWF groupie). The Staff tends to spontaneously generate ring rats wherever he goes… Roid Rage / Mite Madness: when a Mitoid goes berserk. Rub: making another fighter look good; usually results in gaining Honour. Run-in: when a third party enters the Zone to interfere with a match – usually a worked angle. Sandbag: see ‘Dead Weight’. Sell: the all-important performance given to make an opponent’s attacks seem real, powerful, & painful – usually used against pulled attacks & requiring a successful Perform roll; usually results in an Honour gain. Slop Match: unofficial term for a match, traditionally between Divas, taking place in a pool of mud, baby oil, slime, or similar substance. Smark: a ‘smart mark’ – i.e. a fan who realises which bits are fake, but enjoys the show for what it is anyway. Unlike the last days of old style professional wrestling, where more fans (over the age of twelve) were smarks than marks, most XWF fans are true marks who believe the whole thing is real. Sports Entertainment: the way the XWF refers to itself, to avoid legal hassles involved with claiming to be a legitimate sport. Spot: a planned, set-piece, move between two fighters. Squash: a one-sided match where a superior (usually Nova) fighter wins in a very quick time. Core’s four-second win against ‘Butcher’ Moretti is the most famous ‘squash match’ in XWF history. Stiff: full impact / damage attacks. Stretch: full force / damage grappling moves. Stroke: backstage influence (i.e. the Influence [XWF] Background). Stunt Granny: an obvious (& therefore less effective) plant. Superhuman comeback: when a Nova face sells being dominated for several minutes, then ‘miraculously’ draws on their ‘fighting spirit’, starts to no-sell their opponent’s attacks, & wins the match with a big finish. Can result in a Glory increase if sold well, but wears thin pretty quickly. Superhuman: a face promoted as being ‘unstoppable’ (see ‘monster heel’). Superstar: a male XWF fighter. Tights: a fighter’s outfit, even when it’s not literally tights; ‘eww-tights’ is sometimes (but not often) used to refer to living eufiber outfits. Token Offence: the meaningless attacks a jobber gets in before suffering a squash. Valet: a female performer who accompanies a fighter to ringside & promotes him in interviews & the like (i.e. eye candy). Vignette: an out of ring (e.g. locker room or backstage) event ‘caught’ on camera (usually a worked angle). Vocal selling: making sounds to imply you’re hurt (i.e. screams, moans, curses, etc.). The banshee-voiced Terminatrix is the acknowledged Queen of XWF vocal selling. Weekend Warrior: a low-level Mitoid jobber who only works for the XWF part time, often on a cash-in-hand, no-questions-asked, basis. Work: a staged event or angle. Worked Shoot: a real fight, but with worked spots & some level of fighter cooperation included too. Most XWF fights are, in fact, worked shoots – usually the fighters try to extend to the match by following each other’s cues, selling each other’s attacks, throwing fluff, & employing rest holds until it seems that the crowd is ready for the big finish, where (often) the kid gloves come off & the match becomes a real competition. Workrate: the level of action & skill (as opposed to rest holds & posing) in a match; workrate turns always count towards Maintenance durations.
  9. After raiding wikipedia & a few other net resources for articles on professional wrestling, here are a few more XWF terms to a extend the glossary in the book... Bad heat: unlike ‘heel heat’, where the crowd enjoys booing & jeering a heel fighter, bad heat means the fans really don’t like the fighter & don’t want to see them anymore – usually accompanied by a chant of ‘BOR-RING!’, & fatal to one’s career. Blow Up: when a fighter exhausts their entire Quantum pool by performing too many high-power moves early in a match. Bum: the lowest type of jobber (usually an ‘off the street’ Mitoid with minimal training) who is basically considered a disposable asset, just there to make the other fighters look good. Bump: taking a fall to the mat or ground (i.e. a Knockdown), a good bump is a perfect time for the aggressor to pose while the victim sells the move. Bury: the worked lowering of a fighter’s reputation, usually due to annoying the wrong people backstage (i.e. losing Glory). Busted Open: bleeding / having taken Lethal damage. Call: a hidden or whispered in-match instruction or direction between fighters. Carry: when one fighter does most or all of the work selling the match. Cheap heat: when a heel incites an easy crowd reaction by insulting them, the venue locale, local sports teams, local heroes, etc. (usable a maximum of once per show for a -1 Difficulty on an Intimidation-based pose roll). Cheap pop: when a face gets an easy crowd reaction by sucking up to the crowd or local area (usable a maximum of once per show for a -1 Difficulty on a Style-based pose roll). Chemistry: when two fighters work well together, selling a great show. Colour: Blood (the British equivalent term being ‘Claret’). Cue: a (secret) signal to fighters that something should happen or some reaction is expected (e.g. a fighter may cue her opponent to reverse a submission hold just before they tap out, in order to prolong a match). Dark match: a non-televised match, usually before or after the main, televised, content to warm up the house crowd, introduce new fighters, & to send to local crowd home happy. Dead Weight: failing to sell an opponent’s move, meaning they have to perform it stiff, or it’s prone to fail. This can result in a loss of Honour if the move was a pre-arranged spot, the dead weight cued it, or similar such ‘backstabbing’ is involved. Death Match: unofficial term for a particularly bloody match between Lethal attack users. Diva: a female fighter. Dogging: putting in minimal effort. This generally results in a loss of Honour, & often Glory (if & when the fans pick up on the fighter’s lack of effort). Feud: a drawn-out disagreement between two or more fighters – usually a worked angle, but on occasion based on real bad blood. Fighter: the generic term for all XWF in-ring performers (male, female, Nova, baseline). Five Star Bump: a bump (fall to the ground) from a massively elevated position – usually the top of the Zone barriers, or due to being dropped from a great height by a flying Nova opponent. Can result in a Glory gain for one or both fighters involved if particularly spectacular. Flair chop: the signature Ric Flair chop across the opponent’s chest (a normal Strike attack) still draws a spirited ‘WOOOOO’ from most crowds… Fluff: an attack which is pulled to zero damage; alternately (in the Mega-Strength dominated XWF) any fighter who lacks Mega-Strength completely. Following: a fighter’s fan-base (i.e. the Influence [Marks] Background). Gas: Mite; alternately Quantum energy. Glorified Jobber: a Nova performer whose main role is still to lose to other Novas. Go home: a comment made by ringside commentators meant to cue the fighters to end the match. Go through: a (rare) time-limit draw. Going into business for yourself: when a fighter ignores the script for a worked match & shootfights instead, usually for purposes of their own advancement. This inevitably results in a loss of Honour, but the advancement in terms of Glory & rank can sometimes prove too tempting for an up-&-coming fighter to ignore. Good Hand: a high-Honour fighter others enjoy working with because they’re known for selling well, not working too stiff or light, & helping their opponents put on the best possible shows. Green: a rookie fighter, usually one who still makes basic errors & mistakes. Hardcore Match: unofficial name for a match where both fighters have (& use) Lethal damage attacks - the Red Circle hosts the majority of the XWF’s hardcore matches, whilst the Silver Circle hosts none. Heat vacuum: an inability to get any crowd reaction, negative or positive. Job: a scheduled / scripted loss (hence ‘jobber’). Jobber to the Stars: a mid-card, non-Nova, fighter a cut above the regular Mitoid jobbers, who gets to win matches against lesser jobbers, but still loses to the big boys. Juice: Mite; alternately Quantum energy; alternately blood. Kayfabe: the old professional wrestling code that preserves the real inner workings of the business from those outside the business: i.e. maintaining the illusion that the fake stuff is actually real; also refers to anything which is worked, scripted, or otherwise fake. In the XWF breaking kayfabe is a serious no-no – unlike the later years of professional wrestling, most XWF fans really do believe it’s all real (after all, matches are – more or less – shootfights, Novas use real powers, & Mitoids are really super-strong… why believe the rest of it is fake?). E.g. Draco is a kayfabe dragon & Azuthul is a kayfabe demon (since they’re both really Novas), Core & Superbeast kayfabe hate each other’s guts (they’re actually close friends), jobbers are kayfabe Novas (since they’re Mitoids or other non-Nova enhanced people), etc.. Breaking kayfabe results in serious Honour loss. Lead ass: a fighter who’s uncooperative in the Zone. Usually results in Honour loss. Legit: the opposite of kayfabe – i.e. anything that really is real. Light: pulling attacks too much & being seen to do so; happens when a pulled attack is botched & results in a loss of both Honour & Glory. Loose: a pulled grapple (Clinch, Hold, Submission Hold) applied with less force than normal. Lunch Wagon: a derogatory term for a fighter booked for size, not ability. Main eventer: a Nova fighter. Manager: a performer who accompanies a fighter to the ringside, gets involved in storylines & angles, & promotes / puts over that fighter in interviews & the like. Marriage: a long, drawn-out, feud. Meat Squad: collective terms for the show’s jobbers. Mid-carder: a high-seniority, non-Nova, fighter with a certain amount of star draw themselves. Monster heel: a heel promoted as being ‘unstoppable’ (until a suitably heroic face finally steps up to the ‘impossible’ challenge). Draco is pretty much a classic monster heel. Mouthpiece: a manager who does all the talking, interviews, & promos for a fighter with little or no talent for such things themselves. Muta scale: named for the old style professional wrestler The Great Muta this is an unofficial scale of the amount of blood lost by a fighter in a match, ranging from 0.0 (to blood) to 1.0 (maximum blood). Generally each Lethal wound suffered at one time (i.e. in-fight Regeneration doesn’t count) is measured as 0.1 on the scale (so losing 10 Health Levels to Lethal damage, without healing, results in a ‘perfect’ score of 1.0 on the scale). No Hold Barred / No Disqualification / NDQ Match: a (usually brutal) fight which can’t be ended by disqualification – meaning that weapons, outside interference, leaving the Zone, etc. are all permitted – only submission or knockout end the fight. No-sell: giving no reaction to an opponent’s attacks. Sometimes this is scripted (to make the fighter look ‘invincible’), sometimes it’s legit (the fighter really is that tough), but if it’s a case of ‘going into business for yourself’ or just failing to sell the move it can result in a loss of Honour. Nova-class combatant: term used by the XWF to describe their fighters, to avoid legal hassles due to claims that all their fighters are Novas (since they aren't). Novatron: the huge multi-screen video system suspended above the Combat Zone. Over-sell: reacting too much to an opponent’s attacks & making it obvious; this happens on a botched Perform roll & results in a loss of both Honour & Glory. Paying Dues: the idea that newer fighters must be hazed or punished inside & outside the Zone to ‘earn’ their place in the XWF. Plant: a ringer placed in the audience for various reasons (e.g. to be the ‘victim’ of an enraged fighter’s attack). Popcorn match: a fight the marks don’t care about. Promo: a filmed promotional segment. Push: the worked increase of a fighter’s reputation, commonly used to artificially elevate Nova fighters through the ranks so that they can more legitimately be seen as ‘main event’ contenders (i.e. gaining Glory). Opposite of ‘bury’.
  10. ::getsome ::happybirthday ::getsome There you go, I hired a couple of Elites to guard your birthday wishes ::biggrin - have a good 'un!
  11. Psychic Link is basically talking, plus some general impressions (enough to, say, target a Warp) - but no, you can't 'see through his eyes' or anything like that.
  12. Match One: The Staff Vs. Mister Flextastic - May 2008, Seattle As The Staff begins to pose & flex, Mister Flextastic bounces to a halt on the platform directly opposite the one The Staff is on, unfurling from his 'ball' shape he stretches up, ribbon-like, & (seemingly accepting The Staff's unspoken challenge) begins to pose & flex for the crowd on his own side of the arena! The crowd erupts into cheers, jeers, & yells in response to the two Superstars' antics... ... yells The Staff. The crowd on his side of the arena are on their feet, punching their fists in the air, as they, as one, chant, 'And Now The Staff is Going to Pound Someone into the Ground!!!'On the other side of the Zone Mister Flextastic double-takes, scowls, turns to 'his half' of the crowd & yells, 'What time is it?' In a surge of irrational 'us versus them' pride Flextastic's side of the arena try to out-bellow The Staff's crowd as they yell back, 'It's Flextasty Time!'Grinning at the crowd Mister Flextastic then whips his head round to glare across the arena at The Staff as both once more face-off, the cheers of the 'popping' crowd echoing in their ears... [The Staff & Mister Flextastic both gain 3 Glory for taking 3 turns out of combat to work the crowd] McShane: Listen to that crowd, JoJo - they love both of these Superstars!Dylan: That's why the XWF is the world leader in sports entertainment, Dustin... Although I'd still say the ladies are cheering for The Staff... The camera pans across the crowd, 'accidentally' capturing a shot of a group of four girls in sorority T-shirts standing up & flashing their bare breasts as they cheer for The Staff - each breast has one letter painted on it, to spell out TH ES TA FF! The shot is, of course, pixilated in the re-run, but wouldn't have been during live transmission... ::sly McShane: Wow, those girls aren't shy about their allegiance, now, are they? ::blush Dylan: The Staff inspires great... ah... 'loyalty' in his fans, Dustin - but now these two Superstars look ready to return to the action! As the platform he's on lowers, Mister Flextastic reaches out either arm, grasping the poles of the higher platforms either side, stretching back & down before elastically slingshoting himself across the Zone towards The Staff! *****Match Two: Azathul Vs. Nagah - July 2008, London Azathul roars & leaps but, as he passes over Nagah, she snaps her head up, lightning quick, baring her fangs, hissing, & spraying blinding, burning, acidic spittle into the demonic Superstar's face! Eyes stinging, vision a blur, Azathul doesn't realise what's happening until too late as the blindingly fast Nagah grabs him mid-air with her tail & turns his impressive momentum against him as she whips round & releases to fling him the length of the Zone - until he's stopped by smacking full-tilt into one of the vitrium shields protecting the crowds! Azathul can hear the gasps & yells of shocked surprise from the nearby spectators as he slumps to the floor of the Zone... ::blink [Azathul is Wounded with Bashing damage, & blind for six turns (she rolled four, & has the Burning Enhancement on her Strobe)] As Nagah jeers at her fallen opponent & begins to 'menace' the crowd (& Azathul's 'summoner', just the other side of the vitrium barriers) the shot switches to a split screen view - one showing the continuing battle (or posing anyway) in 'real time', the other repeating the recent action in super-slow motion... McShane: Incredible action, JoJo, incredible speed! It can't be over this quickly can it?Dylan: Well Azathul's down, Dustin, but he's not out - we've seen that demon take worse hits than that & still come back to win the match. He was caught off-guard by Nagah's speed... not to mention that viscious blinding spittle of hers - that's been key to her winning several matches... McShane: Well, Nagah seems to be celebrating her victory already, JoJo...Dylan: That would be a big mistake... & I'm not sure if Nagah's just taunting her opponent, or if she's purposefully keeping her distance - blind or not, if Azathul manages to lock in that Hells Embrace it's as good as over - I think Nagah knows that: she fighting smart, not letting him get that hold applied... *****Match Three: Draco Vs. The Terminatrix- August 2008, Paris Draco's scales turn shiny & slick, he bucks like a bronco, squirms, wriggles, & undulates as best he can, but The Terminatrix remains firmly clamped to his back, the submission hold locked in tight... [Draco loses another temporary Willpower point] McShane: Draco does not look happy, JoJo!Dylan: How happy would you be, Dustin? Draco's built for the power game: big slams, big stomps, big chomps - what Terminatrix has done here is take that out of play. Not only has she used her infamous 'equalizer' to reduce her opponent's massive size & strength, she got this agonizing submission hold locked in: raw power won't be enough to escape the Terat's grip - this is a contest of skill... McShane: Right, JoJo - & Draco doesn't seem able to dislodge the comparatively tiny Terminatrix!Dylan: Don't forget, Dustin - Draco may be a creature of myth & legend, but he's a rookie here in the XWF: that lack of experience, coupled with the intense pain of the hold, & the frustration he must be feeling right now all combine to prevent the dragon from thinking straight. That's what Terminatrix is counting on - she's hit him hard & fast with this move, right from the bell, & is going for the win before the more powerful Draco can get his bearings. Don't forget, we've seen Terminatrix's equalizer run out of steam before - if that happens here, she'll be faced with fifteen thousand pounds of pissed-off reptile... As Draco thrashes around, unable to escape The Terminatrix's grip, he hears his opponent whisper, through gritted teeth, 'Try that tail of yours, big guy...' ::wink
  13. Wow! Amazing art Cottus! ::blink ::biggrin And good call on the whole Pax thing Alex... yes, the man has ego 'issues'... ::sly Besides Pax, however (& possibly Mal, but he doesn't show off the muscles as much - just dresses in outlandish pseudo-Egyptian garb... ::rolleyes ) Lorena may well be the next strongest Nova on the planet.
  14. Tank Bustin': Potter nods in response to Aaron's suggestions, 'Alloy's a real option - I've seen the footage of that high-speed ram thing he does... I don't know what he calls it, but it looks damned effective. Shockwave... well, possibly, but I suspect the Colonel is a little too old-fashion to consider hiring a female soldier. As for Tank... well, let's just say his reputation proceeds him... & in this case that's not an advantage...' Colonel Mbaïki grins & offers his hand, 'Ah yes, Thunderbolt - I have seen the OpNet pictures of your work: very impressive, very impressive. I myself am convinced you are the man for the job, you understand, but my superiors insist on making certain of such things before money exchanges hands - I'm sure you understand...' ::biggrin At that moment Alloy - in his Big Joe mode - speeds up to the testing range, trailing the usual cloud of kicked-up dust in his wake. The Colonel's friendly expression instantly becomes angry as he turns on Potter, 'What is this?' he demands, gesticulating wildly towards Big Joe, 'This "hard sell" tactic will not work on me! You insult me! I have told you, we will not spend any more money than we need to!' ::angry With barely a glance at Alloy, Potter steps towards Colonel Mbaïki, hands apart in an open gesture, 'My dear Colonel,' he says in his smoothest tone, 'this is a mere demonstration - it costs you nothing to, at least, see more than one of our Elites in action. I'm not trying to force you into anything...' seeing the Colonel visibly calm, Potter steps a little closer &, in a low, conspiritorial, voice, adds, '... although, between you & me, it is rare to get the opportunity to hire two such skilled & powerful Elites at the same time. Why don't you watch the demonstration before you make any final choices, hmm?' Placated, Colonel Mbaïki nods &, escorted by Potter, makes his way to the observation tower. One of the techs walks over to Thunderbolt & Alloy, 'We've set up six drone tanks on the range,' he explains, 'they're remote operated retro-fitted old Russian stock from the Cold War - so feel free to smash 'em up as much as you like - as long as you get the job, the client ends up footing the bill one way or another.' He winks ::wink & starts to turn, then pauses & adds, 'Oh - & let yourselves get hit by a shell at least once - the punters like to see that: to make sure you guys are tough enough for the job I guess. Happy hunting!' ::smile It Never Rains...: Bonny sighs & pouts, but seems too relaxed to make a fuss... Alex answers his phone to a young-sounding woman with an Indian accent, 'Mister Green?' she inquires, sounding a little nervous, 'my name is Nitara... Nitara Chakravarthy. I... ah... I was wondering if we could make a date... No! I... um... I mean, when would be a convienient date to meet? I was told you were in Mumbai... You... um... I understand you've... ah... read my file?' ::unsure
  15. Meanwhile... Maelstrom, greatest of the leatherwings, cocked her head to one side & let slip a beastial cry sure to chill the blood of any enemy... but Tekhmet knew his companion better than that, heard the ragged thread of self-pity in the great beast's voice: & well she may feel sorry for herself - the Imperial lightning gun had only clipped her wing, but the wound was painful & stopped her taking to the skies - Maelstrom's cry was the call of a frustrated predator unable to stalk prey. Still, it had been a necessary sacrifice - the others, Tekhmet's loyal companions, had managed to elude the Imperial patrol... a large, heavily armed, patrol which had appeared out of nowhere the previous day - the sort of thing usually reserved for escorting the Emperor himself... ... But the great leatherwing's cry had also been in response to a distant, but distinct, noise: the far-off sound of the blast of an Atomic Cannon striking its target. Tekhmet knew that fearsome noise all too well - the cannons were the primary barrier to dealing with the Emperor, after all. The following noise of something heavy crashing into the desolate swamp was a lot closer to hand... Maelstrom fixed Tekhmet with a gaze from one eye & murmured an almost strangled little cry - it was certain that she hated being grounded in the swamps until her wing healed, but she'd be alright... even the local wildlife in the dreaded swamp of despair knew better than to mess with the queen of beasts. Besides, maybe whatever had crashed into the swamp could provide a clue to why the Imperials had been massed in such a remote area? Tekhmet headed in the direction of the crash...
  16. The Waiting Game: It's about an hour & a half after John's coffee run when Shelly Caspari, Green's aide, walks down the stairs & heads out of the office. By this point John's been put on the phone lines - charged with the task of calling every zip in his assigned section of the phonebook & reading election-related leading questions at them from the set script in the folder in front of him (for those who don't just hang up on him he's also got a cross-indexed list of stock answers to typical questions), from there he's meant to enter the relevant answers & data into a computer. Basically it all seems designed to get the monkey on the other end of the phone to agree to a load of questions no zip would disagree with ('do you love your family?' 'are you a patriot?' 'do you hate terrorists?', etc.) until they end up agreeing with the final suggestion that they vote for Green, as if that was the only logical choice for a right-thinking US citizen to make. It's all so phoney & contrived John wonders how the baseline masses, time & time again, fail to see through such pathetically simple psychological trickery... probably because most of them are too lazy to think for themselves... maybe they like to be told what to think, maybe it makes them feel safe? The urge to just go Glacier & rip the place into the shreds it deserves to be is growing by the moment... but, perhaps luckily (despite Eel's opinions on such things), the bear is a lot easier to keep chained when John's dormed... In any case, the appearance & exit of Caspari is, for John, a welcome return to his real mission... Caspari is a slender, long-legged, & attractive young brunette woman in her late twenties, dressed in an impeccable charcoal grey lady's business suit, with the skirt ending high enough above the knee to accentuate her toned legs, but not so high as to appear scandalous - all in all a pretty calculated appearance. Her hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, & the slim glasses perched on her nose do little to detract from her high cheekbones, fine features, & dark eyes. Briefcase in hand as she strides from the campaign offices she appears the very image of a successful, independent, businesswoman or lawyer (or, maybe, a really hot teacher... ::blush )... John, however, recalls that Synapse's files noted Caspari was probably Green's closest confidant, & worth observing as a potential source of information...
  17. I haven't abandoned this one, & will post chargen rules soon(ish). I would like some idea of the zoku's name & look though, so that I can incorporate it into the intro' post - have you guys settled on anything yet? If you can't find something you all like, I guess you'll be stuck with whatever I come up with... ::sly
  18. You told me, in no uncertain terms, that she was born in France, & wasn't just an ethnically-French Swiss person... which is it? ::confused In any case, I doubt that the Swiss are too into peanut butter & chocolate spread either... ::unsure Snowborders may be American-influenced, but there's also a huge European influence, & the best are athletes - & I'm guessing that even American athletes generally don't eat like six-year-olds... ::tongue
  19. It's a Date!: The Samurai's parting shot repeated itself in Basilik's mind once more as she leaned her head against the wall of the hotel suite shower & let the warm water run across her lizard-skinned body. What was his game? She just couldn't figure the man out. She'd come to England expecting a fight - at least of words, if not a genuine physical battle - on her hands, but every time she thought she had The Samurai pegged he seemed to switch directions. When she'd yelled at him in the dirty little café she could have sworn he was ready to leap across the table & snap her neck then & there... she'd been an Elite too long not to recognise that look in his eyes... But then he'd pulled a one-eighty & not only promised her the outfit & mask back, but asked her on a date... ... If that was what it really was. Jean had her doubts - maybe he was just setting her up for something? An ambush maybe? Or just more humiliation? But he'd seemed honestly apologetic about the incident in Chad, & she didn't think he'd start something violent in his own back yard (one of the reasons she'd risked yelling at him like that). So... a date then... But why? Basilisk looked at her own hands, the grey reptilian skin, then ran them down the contours of her body: okay, so she had a great figure, but she wasn't a Nova-level beauty or anything, & the skin... well, maybe he was kinky or something? She'd met a few of those, although they tended to rethink their attraction as soon as they actually touched her - fantasy never lived up to reality, did it? Basilisk sighed & stepped out of the shower to towel herself down, glancing at her own reflection in the mirror, her glowing, deadly, eyes staring back at her. Shaking her head she let slip a laugh - what was up with her? She hadn't worried so much about the way she looked since her boyfriend had walked out after she'd erupted. Could it be that she was actually attracted to the British Elite? Jean frowned at her reflection - The Samurai, like her, had that Nova-perfect physique, that much was true, but he was no oil painting himself - an exotic ethnic blend, maybe, but compared to her own condition pretty normal. No, that wasn't it. True, she'd always gone for the more athletic types, but what made this Guy stand out? Just because he was a Nova? Just because he'd actually asked? Maybe... but there had to be more to it than that... ... Then it hit her. Laughing out loud Jean wrapped the towel around herself, walked into the bedroom, & slumped back on the bed. It was so obvious: he was dangerous, that's why she felt an attraction. That had always been her weakness, her addiction - hence the plane trip over the desert which had ended up with her erupting, hence the love of the Elite lifestyle. Living on the edge, risking it all - it was a heady drug she couldn't get enough of. Now this man, this Elite who'd already fought her in an actual honest-to-God war, was asking her out & she didn't know if he was trying to attack her or kiss her... 'God, Jean,' she murmured to herself with a smile on her lips, 'you are a total excitement slut... you should be ashamed...' Jean blinked & glanced at the bedside clock - she'd really let time slip away from her: stupid Greenwich Mean Time! Making sure her towel was secure & her hair looked okay she quickly stepped across to open the door. Basilisk blinked again, casting an appraising glance up & down her escort for the evening - all things considered, he didn't scrub-up half bad... & what was this about a ride? A smile played across her lips as she recalled her revelation of moments ago - damn it all, she prefered not to know: let him surprise her, for better or worse! Taking the offered duffle she glanced inside, 'The suit?' she exclaimed, sounding more astonished than she'd meant to, so quickly corrected herself, 'I... er... I mean: the suit, thanks.' 'Come in,' she offered, as she carried the duffle to the bathroom, 'I'll just be a minute.' Closing the bathroom door behind her Jean leant back against it & pulled the suit from the bag. It felt weird to have the eufiber between her fingers again: a little alien after its encounter with The Samurai. No matter, it was back where it belonged. With well-practiced ease she let power flow from her into the outfit, & in turn felt the suit become its old, familiar self as it moved, fluid-like, across her body, under the towel, & morphed itself to her unspoken commands. Removing the towel she stood in front of the mirror, wiping the mist away to look herself up & down - now clad in her old Elite outfit. Comfortable, she admitted, but hardly first date attire... Focusing, Basilisk watched her reflection as the outfit morphed into a series of different evening dresses & clubwear - still she couldn't find the right look. Letting her mind wander for a moment, trying to guess what the evening had in store, she jumped slightly (& would have been blushing if her reptilian skin could) when she noticed that the suit had morphed into a rather racy set of black & red lace lingerie! Maybe she was more out of practice with the stuff than she'd thought? Shaking her head she settled on a look inspired by The Samurai's own 'smart casual': low-slung, tight, hipster jeans with calf-high high-heeled boots & a plain black belly-top. Nice, but not too flirty, she decided - anyway, she could always change her mind later on if the need arose. God how she loved eufiber! Downstairs... Basilisk laughs at the sight of the scooter & eagerly mounts as a pillion passenger behind The Samurai, wrapping her arms tightly around him as they zoom off, breaking local helmet laws & violating the complex one-way system Cambridge shares with many other old towns who's street layout was chosen pretty much by random building during Medieval times. Guy notes that the fast, dangerous, driving on the tiny vehicle seems to both relax & excite his date, & by the time they start hitting the student-infested nightspots of Cambridge she's in the mood to strut her stuff on the dance floor - something she proves to do extremely well, rolling her hips to the rythmic beat almost as if they had a mind of their own. Between the pair's heightened physical prowess & Nova bodies, Guy's exotic ethnicity, & Basilisk's unique appearance, they quickly become the centre of attention at every nightspot they hit... ... By the early hours of the morning, Guy & Jean (now on first-name basis) find themselves in a farmer's field just outside Cambridge, along with several hundred other party-goers gyrating to the thumping bleeding-edge Novox tunes being pounded out by the massive speaker set-up of one of the many illegal raves popular in the area. The two Elites, both seeming to possess unlimited endurance, are dancing on top of one of the largest speakers to the cheers of the (more than a little wasted) crowd when the music suddenly dies & a loundhailer announces, 'This is the police - stay where you are: officers will pass among you & carry out searches for illegal drugs.' The disco-lights are replaced by floodlights, revealing a large force of police officers surrounding the happy (now startled) clubbers... Perfect Timing: 'Mmmm...' responds Bonny dreamily, '... lovely...' There's a brief moment of silence, & Alex feels Bonny go a little tense under his fingers... then she relaxes again, 'True...' she murmurs in a rather breathy voice, not looking up, 'best you... ah... remove them...' ::blush At that moment, Alex's phone rings... ::tongue
  20. Sure: I was just trying to clarify for everyone (some may not have the APG to hand after all) how his Psychic Link works - it's not quite the Martian Manhunter JLA or [insert mutant telepath of choice] X-Men mental switchboard linking the whole team together at once, after all (hey, what do expect for a single Nova point, right ::wink ). The last few posts seem to suggest that once the 'hard bit' of the Link is formed, then people can call in at any time - I felt in important to point out that isn't the case before it cropped up in a more serious situation. No probs... although your character being French (& a medical Doctor & an athlete), you'd expect her to be even more against junk food than most people! ::tongue
  21. Okay, the subtle approach didn't work, so I better spell this out (I'm posting this here & not in a PM because the general principles are universal) ... SkyLion - you're assuming too much in your posts. While Freestyle's atmospheric little trip to the kitchen was fine in principle (actually a nice character building bit) you incorrectly assumed that the castle kitchen was, I don't know, similar to that of a suburban American family home or something: it isn't. While I could have asked you to go back & edit your post (& ask everyone else who'd responded to Freestyle returning with the food to edit their posts too) I instead chose to incorporate your error into the narrative, to post a more correct description of the kitchens, & to introduce the NPC kitchen staff. That wasn't an invitation for debate - it was a description of the game world. Your response, in the quote above, goes on to assume you, or your character, know what the NPC is thinking - you don't. Essentially the basic principle here is that you post your own character's actions - you generally don't post the resolutions to those actions if they could possibly be in doubt, & you don't post what others or the world around you are doing - that's my job as the Storyteller. Now, if you'd started the line above with 'Freestyle presumes that the clucking cook...' then it would have been fine. This little kitchen incident, once more, suggests that I've failed to get across the atmosphere & setting of the castle - so, sorry (again) for that. Just as with the mix-up with the dining hall, the rest of the castle (kitchens included) should be pictured as, essentially, a classic British country manor house - think old Agatha Christie stories or Jeeves & Wooster. There's a full staff of cooks, maids, & butlers - as well as the technicians, guards, & instructors who make up the PU facility. The Novas do not live in a vacuum - they're the 'upper class' guests of the house if you want to continue the country manor comparison. Meal times, for example, are full silver-service (the Novas are waited on) - breakfast is the only meal where they're expected to serve themselves (because, as I'm sure we all know, that is the proper traditional British ettiquette: gentlemen & ladies serve themselves at breakfast). As far as food & supplies go, try to keep in mind a couple of points: firstly, the castle is located on a remote Scottish island - you can't just pop down the supermarket; secondly - they stock the best stuff, not 'off the shelf' junk (the kitchens are more like a proper restaurant than, say, a McDonalds). Peanut butter & chocolate spread in particular, although available, have never been popular in Britain - you're unlikely to find them outside of family households with hyperactive six-year olds, or student digs. The matronly cook at the castle is not only a traditionalist, she's a Highlander to boot - so if the Novas want a snack they can always find 'leftovers' like pies, cooked meats, haggis, black pudding, etc. - which should be enough protein for any Nova! Traditional Scottish cooking (thanks to the Highland climate) tends towards high energy food which sits like a lead brick in the stomach ::biggrin - perfect Nova fuel. So, I hope that clears up the feel of the setting a bit more... (By the way, I hope nobody presumes I like posting clarifications like this - I don't. In fact, the thing most likely to make me give up on a game in having to constantly stop & explain myself: after all, if I need to do that, it means that I'm failing as a Storyteller.) On an unrelated point - Bridger has one dot of Psychic Link with no Extras: he can only communicate with one other person at a time. Also, although a Psychic Link is 'permanent', only the guy with the power (in this case Bridger) can 're-activate' it (with a Perception + Psychic Link roll). In other words, he can switch between those he's made the effort in the past to Link to, but they can't 'dial' him remotely. In this situation, either he's communicating with Haunt or he's communicating with Angel - he can't do both at once (that, after all, is the reason for the 'Extra Link' Extra).
  22. The September issue of Empire magazine has ol' shellhead on the cover, & a big article on the film. Mandarin is mentioned, but 'Iron Monger' looks to be the major villain of the piece... although Iron Man does get to fight those jets as well. Tony's encounter with a land mine is moved from Vietnam to Afganistan (for obvious reasons) & might actually become a mortar explosion (both are mentioned in the article). The mag also has a half-page bit on the new 'The Incredible Hulk' movie too - not a sequel, but sort-of starting where the 'Hulk' movie left off (with Banner on walkabout). It also has a 'real' supervillian in The Abomination.
  23. ::lol ... Of course, if Glacier was in either of those two situations, the women involved would be dead... :tombstone: & you thought getting your tongue stuck on an icicle was bad... ::sly
  24. ... In The Act: Narcosis pouts a little, 'I was hoping for a little more than your face, darling...' ::devil As Terry's hand touches Narcosis's chin, then moves to the back of her head, she gracefully slips from her chair to kneel in front of him, her deep, dark, eyes fixed on his. Her fingertips sensuously run from Atlas's thighs up across his abdomen, then down to trace the outline of his arousal as she slowly moves the tip of her tongue over her slightly parted, inviting, lips & waits for his eufiber to get then hint... ::blush Senses focused tightly on the woman kneeling before him, & the promises of pleasure she represents, Terry hardly notices the film crew efficiently moving into position & setting up to capture the scene... On the other hand, despite the allure of Narcosis, he can't fail to note the familiar glowing disc which manifests in the air behind the kneeling Terat moments before PathFinder steps through... ::unsure PathFinder's perfect, pale skinned, slender form is clad in little more than a white string bikini & a wrap-skirt in a bright 'Hawaiian' flower design; she's also barefoot, & Terry glimpses a tropical beach scene through her rapidly shrinking warp just before it closes & vanishes. Tossing her flowing white hair PathFinder stands with her fists on her hips, casts her all-white eyes down at Narcosis, then fixes Terry with an intense stare... for the first time in a long time Atlas finds that he can't hear his lover's thoughts... ::angry ... After a few taut moments PathFinder closes her eyes & turns her face away, brushing aside a tear as she does so. Then she shakes her head, takes a deep breath, & looks back at Terry & Narcosis... 'Go ahead,' she murmurs, then repeats, more clearly, 'go ahead.' Once more she fixes Terry with an intense stare, & her thoughts find their way to his mind... *I... I need to experience this... The things I feel for you Terry... Atlas... are mired by the remants of my baseline self. If I am to explore my evolved potential, to grow as a Nova, I can't just blindly react to emotion. I have to step back from that baseline instinct, to seek not my own petty reactions, but to embrace the universal truth of the situation. I have to share the experience as you, as she... as all of them...* she waves a hand towards the goggle-eyed baselines surrounding them *... experience it. One point of view may be pure, but can it be truth?* A (somewhat forced) smile touches PathFinder's lips as she (mentally) adds *You challenge me to explore beyond what I am, Atlas... thankyou...* The kneeling Narcosis glances back at PathFinder, then looks up at Terry, eyebrow arched in silent questioning - should she continue?
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