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Trinity Universe: For the love of God, why? Looking to start an Adventure! game.


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That's maybe a little too scientific for true pulp. Maybe a post-modern neo-pulp though.

Hmm... Tellurically mutated bacteria or virus that causes Vampirism? I might have been techie on that, but if you could break it down... might be feasible.

But I digress... I tend to be more scientific... a habit I'll have to break in Anne's mindset.

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Hey, quotemyname, here.

Here's the character I'm thinking of running for this if Heritage approves. Keep in mind this is my first attempt at a character for this system. Please take mercy! ;)

thumb_pre_1324492769__turban.jpgthumb_pre_1324492793__turban2.jpg

BASIC INFO:

Name: Tarık Zihnin Olmadan

Alias(es):

"Tarik the Turban", "The Mid-East Mystic", "The Favor of Fortune", "He Who Knocks at the Door to Men's Minds", "The Djini of the Desert", "The Diamond of Destiny" (This character is prone to exclaiming any number of these aliases in every day conversation before uttering his actual name, and after the using some form of the phrase, "Do you know who I am?!")

Nationality: Turkish

Gender: Male

Age: 30

Allegience: ? (some setting specific version of the Argentum Astrum possibly)

Nature: Architect

Vice: ?

Virtue: ?

Inspiration: Psychic

Short Background:

Tarik has always had a natural tallent for hypnotism and other such marvels. He was very young when his mother took him to the market to see the local snake charmers. One day his mother lost track of him and he wandered very close to the snakes as he had always wanted to. The charmer stopped playing just as his mother found him. The two adults were amazed at how even without the charmer's music, the boy had managed to keep the eyes of a large King Cobra locked on his own. He could even make the snake dance just as the charmer had, except he needed no music to do it.

Since then, he has spent years developing his empathic, hypnotic, and clairvoyant powers. Though he has always made sure the he never neglects his athletic abilities either.

As a young adult, Tarik resolved to see the world and experience the many interesting and amazing sights and sounds within it. With a jittery feeling of anticipation, Tarik and his turban begin their haj in London at the young, eager age of 22.

ABILITIES AND ATTRIBUTES:

Strength **

Brawl *

Dexterity **

Athletics*

Martial Arts*

Stamina **

Resistance *

Perception ***** Quality: Detail Oriented

Awareness ***** - * Spec: ("The Big Picture")

Investigation **** Spec: ("Evidence Trail")

Intelligence **** Quality: Well Informed or Abstract (not sure which is a better fit or what they do)

Academics **** Spec: (Arcana)

Linguistics * (English, Native: Turkish)

Science *

Wits **

Appearance: **

Disguise *

Intimidation ***

Manipulation ***

Interrogation **

Savvy *

Subterfuge *

Charisma: ***

Command *

Etiquette *

Rapport *****

BACKGROUNDS

Contacts ***

Gadget ***** - * The Enigmatic Eye (small gem worn as pendant or something; artifact with psychic powers)

Reputation *****

Resources **

KNACKS

Hypnotic Presence level 2

Telluric Resonance level 1

WILL / FACETS / INSP

Willpower: ****

Inspiration **

Intuitive Facet:

Reflective Facet: **

Destructive Facet:

THE ENIGMATIC EYE (Or some other appropriately pulpy mystical sounding name. Eye sounds good if it's a Gem.)

Knacks:

Brain Skimming (1)

Psychic Hand (1)

Cloak of Dread (2)

Fire Conjuration (2)

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And here is my entry. As mentioned before, he has amnesia which has heretofore been unable to learn about his past due to someone or something maintaining Cipher 6 on him. For the last few years he's been acting as an explorer/expedition leader for the Aeon Society.

Name: John Smith

Gender: Male

Age: ? (appears mid-30s)

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Blue

Height: 6'1

Weight: 200

Allegiance: Aeon Society

Virtue: Survivor

Vice: Explorer

Strength: 3

Brawl: 3

Dexterity: 3

Athletics: 3

Firearms: 2

Stamina: 5 (Hardy)

Endurance: 1

Resistance: 3

Perception: 3

Awareness: 3

Navigation: 3

Intelligence: 2

Linguistics (English, French, German): 2

Survival: 3

Wits: 3

Appearance: 3

Manipulation: 1

Charisma: 2

Backgrounds

Backing (Aeon Society): 2

Cipher: 6 (Enigma)

Resources: 1

Knacks

Man for All Seasons

Optimized Metabolism

Body of Bronze [4/5]

Willpower: 8

Inspiration: 5

Intuitive: 3

Reflective: 2

Destructive: 0

Initiative: 9

Movement:

Walk: 5, Run: 15, Sprint: 26

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Okay, I have updated Lady Aceworth to fit more with concept. Dropped Trick shot and two dots of firearms to improve or add these:

Added

Brawl: ••

Endurance: •

Improved

Athletics: •

Academics: •

Etiquette: ••

Blame Jameson. The character feels even better now. ^_^

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Sir Thomas Burton

Inspiration: Daredevil

Origin: High Class

Virtue: Bravo

Vice: Expert

Strength (Massive) •••••

Brawl ••••• (Multiple Attacks/Combos), Might ••••

Dexterity •••

Athletics •••• (Throwing), Melee ••, Stealth ••

Stamina (Tough) ••••

Endurance ••, Resistance •••

Perception •••

Awareness •••, Navigation •

Intelligence ••

Academics • (Anthropology), Linguistics • (Arabic), Medicine •, Science •• (Archaeology), Survival •

Wits ••

Appearance •••

Intimidation ••••

Manipulation •

Charisma •••

Etiquette ••, Rapport ••

Backgrounds

Contacts (Archaeologists) •, Followers • (Alan Forester), Reputation (Archaeologists) ••, Resources ••••

Knacks

Fists of Stone, One-Man Army, Resilient

Inspiration •• (Destructive ••)

Willpower ••••• •••••

Equipment

bowie knife, throwing knives, reinforced clothing (+2 Lethal soak)

Combat

Punch: 10 dice, damage 10B

Kick: 9 Dice, damage 9B

Knife: 5 dice, damage 7L

Thrown Knife: 8 dice, damage 7L, Range 45m

Soak

Bashing 4

Lethal 2

Build Summary
BPs

+7 Willpower, +1 Background

TPs

3 Heroic Knacks, +4 Attributes, +20 Skill points (changing 2 points for 4 specialties), +1 Inspiration

Background

Son of a renowned British archaeologist, Thomas lacks his father's penetrating intelligence and facility with languages, but more than makes up for it with a physique that rivals that of any other. Standing nearly seven feet tall the younger Sir Burton is a massive man piled high with muscle and possessed of an unflagging stamina. Thomas fully embraces his nature as a man of action, traipsing across the globe with his faithful manservant, college chum, and translator Alan Forester.

Thomas when to school at Oxford where his studies in archaeology and anthropology paled in comparison to his quick mastery of the art of pugilistic combat. Between natural strength and stamina, and rigorously trained skill Thomas is well know as one of the greatest gentleman boxers in the world. When it comes to conflict there are few situations where his considerable strength and skill cannot suffice to get him out of a jam.

Thomas and Alan are not members of the Aeon Society but are known to those who are and are often offered space on expeditions for Allen's vast linguistic knowledge and Thomas' physical prowess.

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If any drawthreads come up in /tg/ (Traditional Games), watch the shoutbox. If the resource is there let's mine it until the mine's played out, right? ^_^

Note, 4Chan is considered a NSFW site by most filters, so accessing from work might be a bad idea.

Note - Don't use anime for references for your character. A good number of denizens there have a negative kneejerk reaction towards Anime. Jeremy found that out the hard way.

Me... I'm like a wilderness Ranger. I know my quarry. ;)

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While we wait... Storytime!

Sometimes, even ace pilots have bad days.

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I suppose you're wondering why I'm sitting out in the middle of nowhere, with a seagull sitting next to me? Well, it's a long story, but I'll try to make it brief.

See, I'm a pilot. What these folk like to call an Aviatrix. Me? I'm Lady Anne Mary Aceworth. And it seems I've pissed off someone in a high place.

I was doing a routine courier run, and while my usual plane was in the shop, I rented a seaplane. It was a simple route. Get the package to Cardiff from the London Aeon Offices. Not too hard a flight. No worries, right?

I got sloppy.

Usually I check my bird out, my own or someone else's, before I even set foot inside of her. Been a good policy, and good policies get forgotten. I didn't spot some really clever sabotage work in the engines. Seems the little device put in was set to activate once I hit a certain altitude, cutting off the engines and causing a fire to boot. Now usually I got failsafes, usually a combination of temporarily choking off air while injecting CO2 gas into the engine nacelle. Nothing so fancy here... so here I am, gliding into the Atlantic with a soon to be flaming wreck.

First thought in my mind... try to land in a way where I could safely ditch this bird. The smoke should get someone's attention, and the route I took I did file with the proper authorities, but such help could be a day away... better than trying to steer towards land and instead of a fireball I could watch I would end up being the fireball. A couple hair-raising moments later and I'm grabbing my ditch gear and swimming it.

Nice thing about having a father with connections to the Royal Navy... you get surplus navy aviator stuff from time to time you can find use of. Thank god I picked a life vest and raft to take with me. Of course putting my trust into some air bladders and the skill of someone using rubber cement makes me take pause in turning the valve on the raft's gas bottle. The vest I trusted enough, but I really wanted out of this cold water.

So now I'm here, waiting for a pickup from Aeon, bobbing about in a raft that probably was a prototype and shouldn't be in for too long, and the only thing keeping me warm is this jacket and vest. I wager questions will start getting asked in a hour or two... Then they'll send someone along the route, unless someone in the lifeboat service sees the smoke first.

I keep my flare gun close, and start thinking of my list of people who'd want me dead.

That's the only comfort I got right now... Comfort in knowing that if I ever find the yellow bastard that sabotaged a plane I'm now gonna owe some serious pounds on, I'm going to collect... oh you can count on it.

..."What are you looking at, bird?"

- Moral of the story: Paranoia is just Preparedness taken to an artform.

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Okay, now that the mad relentless rush of the Christmas shopping season is past us (thank God!), I can return to more pleasant pursuits! In the days ahead I'm going to read over everyone's characters in a bit more detail, finish reacquainting myself with the Adventure setting, and start throwing down some more definite stuff about the direction of the campaign. This should be fun!

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Fires of the Sun-God!

Thomas' fist struck the Arab and sent him flying. The man cleared nearly five feet of air before plummeting to the giant stones of the pyramid below and tumbling another half dozen yards before he ceased any movement at all. Alan had his cane sword out and was fending off the last of Abdul Mizrah's henchmen. His companion gave him a barely perceptible nod and Thomas was off like a shot, charging up the weathered limestone like a child up stairs.

Mizrah stood at the apex of Khafre's tomb, the Staff of Apophis planted at the very pinnacle of the restored capstone, the swarthy man clutching it as the headpiece blazed with power, stealing the very light from the sun above. Apophis was finally getting his chance to usurp Amun-Ra, but Sir Thomas Burton wasn't going to allow this madman to darken the sun.

With a roar the giant Englishman tackled the Arab and knocked them both away from the staff. Empowered by the sun's energy Abdul Mizrah fairly well burned with power, his skin felt like fire to Thomas' hands, and his blow rained down like a starfall. Still the Englishman held to the mad priest, following blow for blow with his own massive fists, rocking his opponent's head back with each blow, but seeming to do little lasting impact.

"You cannot hope to defeat me, Christian fool! The very power of Amun-Ra and Apep course through me, I am more than a match for you!" To punctuate his claim he easily twisted Thomas' left hand, forcing him to loose the grasp on the other's robes, and then slammed his fist into Thomas' gut with such ferocity that the wind was driven out of him. Thomas crumpled to the stone below, gasping for air. "Yes, that is good. One such as you should be on your knees before me!! The fire of the sun courses through me, I am divine made flesh!"

Thomas looked up and nodded, the power of Amun-Ra truly did course through Abdul Mizrah, but without the staff his body was only human. Drawing in a ragged breath, "You have the power, but you forgot Abdul, it was the staff that allowed you to control it!" The Arab looked down at Burton with a sneer that turned to a grimace as the fire and heat from the sun turned from vitalizing power to burning agony in his veins. Screaming the Arab turned to scramble for the staff, but was tripped up as Sir Thomas grappled the man's legs dragging him down to the broken limestone. The inferno built to a crescendo and the mad Arab had only time to scream in agony as his body was consumed in fire before the light of Amun-Ra fled back to the heavens and restored light to the sun.

Thomas opened his eyes to see Alan standing over him. "Sir, while you do look rather comfortable, I don't think that this limestone is going to do anything good for your coat in the duration. That was a gift from the Lady Bennington was it not?" The man offered Thomas his hand and helped him to his feet. The front of his coat was clearly ruined, burned and singed, with holes prominent; contact with the limestone blocks was the least of its problems.

"You know Alan, this is why I can't have nice things." With a laugh Thomas retrieved the staff from its fitting. Hefting the gold and obsidian rod he said with a chuckle, "On the bright side, this will make a fine addition to the Egyptology department at Oxford."

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Murder, Was The Order

While the cops were trying to keep away the press, mollify the absurd egos and attempts to interfere by the family and lawyer, this left them barely any time or inclination to perform more than a cursory glance at the crime scene. This left Mel the sole true investigator on the New York estate of Jonathan Marcell, major publisher of cheap and tawndry magazines- and accused ironically by his own reporters of a shocking style of sexual practices with women not his wife.

This was the kind of thing that would utterly destroy his reputation, plus his marriage and publicity that would sink his papers. Typical, Mel thought, knowing that the arrogance of the wealthy just got too ahead of them sometimes.

Which made perfect sense that Marcell would put an end to himself. The examiner had confirmed that the magnate had -by means of what he could identify through certain pigmentation in the fingernails- died from arsenic poisoning, and the fact that he'd been alone in the study when found added credence to the signs of suicide.

But Mel- who had been requested to lend a hand as a favor from a force friend- disagreed instinctively. Something was up. When he noticed the opened champagne bottle, lid on but drank from, he dusted it off for fingerprints, as Marcell likely drank from it.

Strangely, the bottle seemed to have not been open for five hours. The smell and the tiny amount of froth left were indicators. Later on, Mel was explaining the issue over the phone with Whitley Styles.

"His fingerprints were on the bottle, but it couldn't have been opened more than a few hours after when he supposedly died."

"And what did the police make of your observations?"

"Oh, Ferguson doesn't understand how that could be, deceased up and around after 'death', and his lieutenant isn't doing anything but sucking up to the rich wife."

"Why am I not surprised? From what you seem to be saying, I fancy Lord Scrope is at work here."

"Oh, I agree. Order picked up another high-class man in distress, and Marcell took a little bit of time to gloat before going."

"How vanity reveals us all. Can you do me a favor and follow the breadcrumbs? Mel, you know how long we've had at it without any definitive success."

"I'll see what I can do. Bye, Styles."

When he headed back for the hotel, an alleyway shortcut sounded steps behind him. Three men with baseball bats were behind him. Mel sighed and cracked his knuckles. How typical.

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Okay, very behind on getting caught up here, but I've been rereading the corebook, and had a few things to run by folks. The way I see it, there basically three 'factions' struggling for world domination:

1. On the side of the Axis, we have the Rational Experimentation Group (I don't think I can resist the temptation to translate that into one long German compound title), the Thule Society (who we will make up in game terms) and perhaps the Dragon's Coil Tong (not sure on that yet).

2. On the side of the Allies (not that they're completely formed yet), we'll have the Aeon Society's London Chapter, the Supplemental Resources Office (Britain's version of Branch 9) and maybe the IDA, assuming they survived until 1938.

3. Out for themselves are the large criminal associations like the Contedorri, Order of Murder and perhaps the Dragon's Coil Tong. These groups are out for maximum profit and war is big business, so they will probably try and deal with both sides and/or play each side against the other. They are the wild card.

Any of these three factions can have more groups involved, though I think some of the ones in the rulebook might not still be operating, or only in very different forms. The British government would be very keen to get Aeon's help by appealing to the patriotic soul of any members who are part of the Empire. Certainly events on the Continent are a cause of great concern, but the brewing war in Europe (by some accounts, the war has already begun in the East with the invasion of China by Imperial Japan) is not the only crisis on the Society's plate; there are still mad geniuses to pursue and unspeakable horrors to drag out into the light of day all over the world. However the spectre of fascism will continue to spread its black wings over Europe, and it's only a matter of time before everyone is under its dreadful shroud.

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Also a quick suggestion for any history buffs out there. I highly recommend 'Prelude to War', the first book in Time-Life's classic World War II book series from the 80s; it was the first book in the series, and very easy to find in used bookstores and local libraries. Easy to read and well-illustrated, it starts at Armistice Day at the end of the Great War and follows right up to the September 1939, and offers great insight into the years between the wars, including the failure of the Weimar Republic, the rise of Mussolini and Hitler and the tragic policy of appeasement that the world followed to avoid another terrible war.

Obviously there are many books on the subject, and I'm sure lots of them are much better than 'Prelude', but it's easy to find and serves as an excellent summary of the period; I plan on cracking open my copy tonight as soon as I get home from work!

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I've been endeavoring on absorbing as much as I can of the era. Particularly in the current region of operation we'll have.

Europe is a powderkeg and the fuse is lit. Nazis and Facists infest it like a nest of cockroaches.

Asia is in chaos. Japan takes advantage of a weakened China and a distracted Russia.

America is unaware of the danger. The Phillipines and a little Hawaiian base crucial to the Pacific fleet rests soundly, their time still a few years away.

Britian is about to be sent through the crucible of war.

The Soviet Union is of yet, unaroused.

If there was ever a time for heroes, it is now.

The Year is 1938, the place... London.

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Hey, I'm a child of history and popular culture.

Why you think I'm one of the few friends I know who marked out for Captain America last year?

I think it's highly important we pick up on the spirit of the times. (Not saying that German word. Only Nazis and Psychologists speak German and my name ain't freud and I don't got a silly mustache.) A certain man of steel isn't concieved until June 1938. This would signal the evolution of pulp from just gritty detectives and mystery men with the power to cloud men's minds or to know what evil lurked in the hearts of men. This was an era in transition.

The pulp genre is what we represent.

Anne could be called both the last Aviatrix and potential prototype of Tony Stark.

Mel is the last of a dying breed of gumshoe, or the first real renegade cop.

Sir Thomas is the last of the great white adventurers, two-fisted and strong or the prototype of a true superman.

Tarik is what one could consider the last mystery that science is yet to conquer or the first sorcerer supreme.

John Smith could either be the last of the great mysterymen or the first mutant hearald of the genetic age.

Once we start finding our way, stories (highly fictionalized of course and with flashier costumes (and I will bloody become a goose stepper before Anne wears a mini-skirt! What is she, a cheerleader? Could you imagine how uncomfortable that'd be wearing a parachute? Not very functional...)) will be told of our exploits to raise the morale of the allies.

Not only are we siezing that Indiana Jones spirit, we maybe something new... something the world needs.

A Legion. Something Fantastic. Avengers of Freedom!

We're the prototype that future heroes will be drawn from on the pages of our favorite dime-store funnies.

Let's give them something to remember us by!

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No, no, it's cool, there's been a fair amount of blind forward movement and I realized that the tone & style hadn't been laid out clearly. This has happened to me before and resulted in a lot of disinterest after the start of the game and often leaving the game as a result. I figured that now was a good time to ask this and get an answer from Heritage since there may be a perception schism among the participants.

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I hear what you're saying, Lady Anne and Ouro; by setting the game in 1938, we're sort of at the end of the pulp era and at the beginning of the Golden Age, assuming superheroes came into existence in this world. I played in a wonderful (if very short-lived) 'mystery men' Adventure campaign, and it was a hoot and a half, but I was planning on shading a bit more on the pulp side for this one. The rulebook has a great section where it delineates the difference between pulp and four-color (as well as camp and noir, as I recall), and it is a very fine line; I suggest everyone read that section very carefully.

As much as I loved last years Captain America flick, I don't want this to be that sort of game; much of the work will lie on my shoulders to maintain the tone of the storylines and NPC interactions, but all the players must also be on the same page. The Rocketeer is about as four color as I'd like to get (and that flick *really* skates the line between pulp and four-color), whereas Cap's awesome adventures tip the balance just a bit too far into superhero territory for where I'd like to see this game heading. If I had a story blender, I'd mix in three parts Indiana Jones, one part Rocketeer and one part H.P. Lovecraft; does that make sense?

HH, don't be ashamed; I'm lagging far behind and I'm the guy running the game!

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Yay! Pulp is what I was hoping for. I'm tempted to look at my sheet anew, and possibly remove Enhanced Impact (which while pulpy, is also very near the four-color line/border). The thing I think that is hard for many to get between pulp and 4-color is that pulp is over the top, but its not over the top in the same way that 4-color is.

Anyways, if I change Thomas up at all I'll let you know.

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