Ikmachek

Okay you got my interest because I was never into 'trek. Explain.

For the record I'm not talking about Wakies. Those I never had any immersion breaks with. My only real issue comes with the idea of a hero coming in basically critical condition and just flying out in ten seconds. Arcane/metahuman healers? Sure. Though that never sat well with me because suddenly all the teeth of the setting is gone.

It's the middle of the day, and I had one of those caffeine-addled thoughts on my way back from a mutual aid call in the car so piling one bad thought upon another I pondered: Why not share this here? So! The Hospital/Mediporter system. We're all familiar with it and it's a deeply ingrained lore reason for the game's respawn mechanics. When I was younger back on live I thought it was goddamn brilliant. It makes roleplaying getting your ass kicked actually something you can roll with and not just be a quiet ((Uh, retcon that)) to the party/mission. Now that I'm older... I find myself thinking it's really not helpful to roleplaying content at all. I've grown far more attached roleplaying logical verisimilitude in the game that the setting lends itself to. Be that with legal processes, basic US law enforcement conduct and restrictions, etc and I just can't help but now find using the hospital function as... Well, a lame handwave. It's a system that's meant to teleport a hero basically coding/flatlining to the ER where staff are waiting to crashcart some poor level 5 shmuck to surgery after he told a Warwolf 'Yo 1v1 me'. That's cool but it doesn't lend itself well to jumping out the doors and flying back to the mission door saying 'I got better' It's something that destroys all immersion and consequence for me in the setting and roleplaying. So I want community thoughts, do you think the same? Why? Do you disagree? Any headcanons or ideas that mitigate this hurdle that you personally use?

Two headcanons I got. Firstly, there's a limited, set amount of 'meta souls' in the multiverse that those with the same name and loosely aligned destiny share. The odds there's so many men named Mark Cole who becomes not!superman is insanely small. So just in general everyone shares a strand of fate with other versions of themselves and while they may all vary in large or small ways. That person must and WILL exist around the same time as all their other versions of they. Secondly, Heroes in paragon got the authority of state police to just not have to deal with jurisdiction shenanigans, and when testifying in court are 100% allowed to show up in costume and must be acknowledged by their alias to protect their Identity if they have one.

Military outpost near Knin, Croatia, 9/16/2020 --- "Pred vratima su!" (They're at the doors!) "Brzo! Nazovite Kapitol, recite im-" (Quickly! Call the Capitol and tell them-) The two bickering officers in the sealed command room underground didn't get much time to discuss what to do. The dull THUDS of hoof-shaped imprints began to dent the blast door that sealed what was left of the command structure near Knin away from the force that had made short work of their base, not to mention the monster leading them. Second generation AK rifles and Makarov pistols were pointed at their only defense. For a tense, awful moment it had seemed like their beast stopped taking out his hatred for existing on a blast door designed to shrug off shaped charges - until with a final screeching tear of metal, the Chimera leading the orange and black paramilitary thugs shouldered it open like a linebacker about to sack a quarterback a few dozen yards away from first down. The deafening CLANG of the quarter-ton of metal was almost downed out by the report of old soviet guns. Their force not even enough to get through Yalton's dense hide, and almost as if to mock them - the officers and whatever staff were unharmed. Lazily disarmed as Danial simply took their guns one at a time, ejected the magazines and snapped them over his knee or in his hands with the subtle crack of wooden furniture and surplus soviet steel. When all the gunfire had stopped, only then was he joined by a small squad of Sinister Soldiers. The ringing silence broken by a question spoken in Croatian. "Tko vasSsS vodi?" (Who is in charge?) Another long period of silence was broken - Yalton putting a fist through an old security monitor. "WHO-" "I am, disgusting beast!" finally someone brave enough to speak up, and judging by the pins in his beret - he was truthful about being in charge. Even better was his English. "You raid my base, kill my men, destroy my command center! For what!? Who are you!?" Danial considered the questions for a long moment before giving a nod of respect. "Commander? I'll assume Commander-" "Brigadier." He corrected, before Kymeria spoke again. "I'm here to propossSe a deal with the Croatian coast on behalf of the Sinister Squad-" Again Yalton didn't get to finish, the proud officer spitting out curses inbetween his frustrations. "YOU COME INTO MY BASE, KILL MY MEN FOR A DEAL!? What kind of deal did your mother make with her favorite bull on the farm to make you!? Whatever DEAL you have, you can take with you and get off my base!" Politely, Danny let the Colonel finish. Beaming from that feline-like face only with a nod. "Are you quite done?" "What do you mean done, I am not DONE with you unti-" The twack of meat being severed was all that finished the Colonel's rant. Kymeria beheading the former officer with the chop of a flat hand. The rest of the base's command structure cowed into silence, watching as he simply wiped his hand off with a rag offered by a Sinister Soldier. "Who'ssS next in command?" This time there was no need to break anything to get a response. A much younger man in fatuige and a beret standing up. "First lieutenant Alexandri sir! I am prepared on behalf of the Knin army base to offer our full surrender to your Sinister Squad!" his pleading uncomfortably practiced - likely repeated in his head as soon as his former officer spoke off to the monster that had to weigh as much as the door he broke free. "Hold on a moment." Yalton held up a taloned finger to the much more agreeable acting commander, addressing a bestial-looking Supervisor in orange and black who had come up from behind. "RrReport?" "Our forces in Zadar report a total media blackout and army compliance with our forces, the transit portal is almost underway too.... but-" "but what...?" Yalton asked with apprehension. "...We detected an outgoing distress signal from this base just a few minutes ago - we don't know where it's for but the main defense forces in Zagreb might be aware of us." "I sssSee, try to trace it - dismissed. Inform Lord Blackwell of our progress too." The spliced, inhuman officer gave a salute to the council-holder of the Sinister Squad before that seven foot chimera turned back to what was left of Knin's command structure. "ssSo about that deal..."

Lord Blackwell's Desk, 9:44am, 7/12/2020 A folder lay across the expensive mahogany desk of the Lord and Dread Nictus Blackwell. A simple manila filing folder filled with typed reports, sat-imagery and statistical documents. All of it neatly organized to a degree some would call obsessive, however to the beast that worked day and night on the proposal it was nothing short, no cut corner to proving his worth as a member of the inner council. That under a chimeric behemoth was an even more dangerously cunning predator. --- THE WHAT: Lord Blackwell I hope this proposal finds you in good spirits. I'm sorry this took ages but I took the time to ironclad what I think should be out first major move as the Sinister Squad. As you likely know Croatia is a eastern Slavic country with a troubled history since the cold war. It's fragile, barely first world and in short, perfect for us. My plan is this, we take the Sinister Sub around Italy into the Adriatic sea to the city of Zadar, from there we take control of the coast and the cities Sibenik, Splif, and Knin. THE WHY: Croatia was a major instigator in the Yugoslavic wars, it's neighbors Bosnia, Serbia and Albania it's still got poor ethnic feelings for, only curbed by the U.N. intervention in 1991. In other words, the perfect buyer for our paramilitary might and weapons. Not only that, it's the perfect climate for poppy flowers which the west coast of it is ripe in. The opium market always hungers. We're sitting on a small army, let's use it. THE HOW: I've given this some thought, there is no way we're transporting thousands of Sinister Soldiers by one sub, we will need to acquire some means of mass teleportation. From there we must make coordinated strikes from Zader downwards, hitting media stations, radio repeaters and government buildings ontop of military bases. The quicker the coast is cut off from contact the easier this will be. I expect their rinky-dink little post-USSR defense force won't be any trouble. Infact after this, they'll be our biggest market. Once we control the coast, it's poppy fields and it's communications, we can figure out how to handle the capitol of Zagreb. Rapid deployment and control will be our best and only asset. If the world or U.N. see that a villain group has taken over a small part of a yugoslavic country, it will be more than we can handle. EXPECTED RESULT: I don't expect us to stay within the country indefinitely. At most a few months to sell our excess guns and armor and to make a good harvest on summer poppy yields, by the fall we should withdraw and let decades old tensions sort themselves out with laser rifles and AK-74s. If anything we might be able to bolster our ranks with what's left of the army. Again, speed and control will ensure our success. -Daniel 'Kymeria' Yalton

May 19th, 2015 --- The beating on the motel door grew louder. Somehow it was worse than the entire night of agony, vomiting, relocating bones and now raw starvation. Other guests probably heard... Which was why the manager was at the door. "Kid if you don't OPEN THIS DOOR I'm coming in, and if I gotta call the cops-" Yalton couldn't even make it /to/ the door, the formless... blob that was his legs couldn't be moved. Manipulated. It was like running in a dream. "I'm gonna count to three! and if you don't open this door-" What was he going to do to the abomination that had more or less fused to the bed? Hopefully call for a doctor... "Two...!" Or if he was lucky, put him out of this agony. "Three!" There was a click, the master key opening the solid wooden door. A protoplasmic... Thing of fur, scales. feathers and Jello stared back at the pudgy hotel manager. Croaking out a weak "HeeELP." "JESUS CHRI-" --- The sound of a truck horn woke Danny as he laid slow and stealthily on the roof of an abandoned King's Row factory. Muttering a curse at himself for falling asleep on watch... and that nightmare again. It changed a little every time, but the horror of it was all the same. The pair Family goons in suits far too nice for such a late hour and place stood watch below - openly armed to boot. A cube van full of 'Dyne backing up while the driver slammed the horn. Impatient to get it into the docking door. Yalton knew about the Family's Superdyne trade even since before he became... What he was now a week ago. Before then the prospect of taking on half a dozen men with automatic rifles was suicide. Now a walking tank of superhuman durability and power? He had more than a fighting chance. Once again peeking through the binoculars he brought. The chimeric manbeast confirmed what was in the back, gallon drums and boxes. The cargo of the van having been opened before they even began to back it up. "Well... Good at ssSomething. Never do it for free." The first mook dressed in a white suit down below didn't even get to scream as seven hundred pounds of raw beast and muscle landed on him. A sickening crack coming from what may have been his now-corpse as Danny stood and cracked his knuckles for show. The driver who had been backing up in reverse braked, unsure if what he was seeing in the wing mirror was even real. It only took a moment for the second Family thug's instinct to kick in. Not even raising the military-grade rifle he had and opening up in full auto on Yalton who had in-turn made a rush for him. It was only a few feet away from the docking bay as rounds spalled off the concrete and embedded themselves in hide and muscle. Not even having the kinetic energy to breach into vulnerable organs. Another disgusting crack of elbow striking face was heard. What was surely now a dead mobster with his neck twisted by the force lay on the asphalt. By now the gunfire had attracted more from inside and despite the abuse he had taken from a few .223 rounds, this was a heist, not a siege. Warehouse "workers" packing heat rushed the dock door, only soon to be chased away into cover by returning fire. Even if Danny had just killed two men with just his mass and weight. Nothing did better to frighten off inexperienced tough guys than automatic fire. The rifle that just put about a third of it's magazine into Daniel picked up and emptied in kind. Smartly the driver of the van had bailed before the seven-foot monster noticed him. A fact Yalton acted on as he rushed for the driver's seat - and never making it. A feeling of raw force pulled the chimera away and onto the pavement. Danny didn't even get to see what happened before he was yet again slammed into the side of the van's cargo compartment by raw telekinetic force - and held there. From his limited view with that muzzled face pressed up against the sheet metal of the truck. Finally Danny saw who just pinned him. What had to be a man built bigger than a professional linebacker and tall as himself stepping out of the lit warehouse. Dressed in a fine suit that could only exist custom made with one arm held up lazily. "AND WHAT THE EVER-LIVIN' FUCK DO WE GOT HERE!?" The pressure against the vehicle was too much for Danny to speak - even breathing was a chore to the hulking beastman that was pinned without so much as a show of effort. "Come on, ya tell me what you think yer doin'!?" Finally the force of raw gravity lightened up for Yalton to slump against the ground, not daring to move as more thugs dressed in warehouse worker's clothes flanked the Capo that just mopped the floor with him. Rifles trained steadily. "I mean, I expected maybe the Skulls 'er someone would try this, but one lone freak- I know you ain't a hero. No costume and heroes don't use guns. What did ya expect here?" Coughing and gasping to catch his breath, Danny sat up against a wheel. His hands weren't raised but he knew better than to try something now. "I got told the Family wassS moving 'dyne... Was gonna sell it myself." The admission to such a brazen theft made the behemoth of a made man laugh. "HOOOLY SHIT. You thought you were gonna drive off with two thousand gallons of refined 'Dyne and just what? Sell it on the turnpike like Liberty Scout cookies? Like we wouldn't find out? Can you get a load of this!?" The Capo's entourage chuckling on queue like a good crowd. "What's yer name, dumbass?" Defiant to the end. Danny didn't answer. The spite of it making the 'dyne augmented mobster glare, losing his jolly composure. "I said what's yer fuckin' name-" "Daniel." The behemoth spat out. A moment of raw fear overtaking him while death breathed down his neck. "Na - Freak like you has to have a better name... A badass one, come on. Tell me." It took a moment for the question to catch up to a brain filled with the primal fear of imminent execution... An alias? A code name? Shit... Danny didn't even think of that, he was just a freak now. Not some supervillian - and as suddenly as he registered the question, the perfect response hit him. "...Chimera." Instead of death by firing squad, or the Capo's crushing powers. A broad hand was offered to Daniel 'Chimera' Yalton. "Well then get the fuck up Chimera... I could use a freak with balls like yours. So long you don't kill any more of my guys."

Oh awesome. So my two cents First, I love the option we got to turn everyone's name a different color in the chatbox, but the color is force-randomized. Could we get an option to pick what color our name would be in the chat box? Second, more power animations. Just cram 'em all in there within reason. Speaking of that. Could we get a way to customize all the powers at chargen or a low level? Example being if I got a character in mind who's going to take fitness or whatever. I have to wait until he has one power from the fitness pool to make tough/weave/etc the animation I want... Then go through all my other costumes and apply that change, if there was a way to basically preset 'Okay I want these power pools to have this animation, these incarnate powers to have this animation/color' at chargen or around then. I'd be a happy rat.

Honestly my dude, go for it. You're playing them as an outright villain and not trying to sugarcoat it making them misunderstood or some silly shit. The 5th Column has been with the game since forever and are the classic mad science and gas mask moon Nazis. If you got a fun concept in mind, don't be afraid. I got a Warwolf I play, and all I've gotten is one guy saying it's a cool concept and they hope I met their Council badguy. I'd just say to avoid the D because it makes no sense for a ultra-strict fascist to ever /be/ in that kind of place, and be more creative than having a flanderized german accent, everyone's done it.

You say this like it's a bad thing. What's always bugged me is the Jenet Kellum arc where you discover Countess Crey's real identity and just how that kind of writing made it past Q&A, even for a comic book game. "Oh man, the body you found isn't Julianne Thompson? That must mean... Countess Crey is Julianne Thompson and killed and assumed the Identity of this random person! That means she's guilty of murder! This is the biggest break ever!" "Okay, I have no idea exactly how you connected those dots with 100% no hint that was even the case, but we can't even act-" Then a judge just signs for a warrant to arrest Countess Crey with not even a mote of evidence, for a murder no one can prove happened in fucking Europe. All on an investigation that has had no legal backing from the start. I used to be perturbed just how Crey got away with blatant murder in public because 'Lol Money' now it all makes sense when every contact taking them on doesn't even regard due process or even basic constitutional rights. They don't need an army of lawyers, any law student pre-bar could get them out of the charges heroes bring them in on.

https://i.imgur.com/UchIHrM.mp4

I tend to play pretty bright characters. Kymeria's probably my best example. An avid reader and socially bright. Kinda sad he wastes that potential being a supervillain. Heat Screech has a university Education. Hollenhund almost had one before he dropped out, still quick to learn and retain information. Gallop however has to be my dimmest character. Dumb in that hasn't-grown-up Gen-Z kind of way.

"ssScrew me, I already hate this place." Standing right outside Krawfish Kenny's, the Chimera crossed his arms while looking up at the sign. It was as if every bar, speakeasy or dive in Sharkhead had to be a run down roach motel, and this one was just tacky to boot. Oh well, it wasn't as if Daniel was here for the drinks. A loud KRAK interrupted the heavy rock that was playing that moment, right during it's crescendo. Danny couldn't have picked a more dramatic time to grab everyone's attention as a powerful hoof kicked off the front door. Aside from the track that was blaring through the cheap sound system, it was dead quiet. A seven foot monster made up of grey fur, smilodon teeth, hooves and God knew what else thumbing back the way he came before stepping in. "AlrrRight, clear out boys." Again, dead silence from every sailor, factory worker, fisher and one or two off-the-clock Arachnos goon there. Unsure who or what just warranted a villain cutting off their night collectively, was he... Robbing the place? This shithole of all places? "I'm not assSking twice." a more impatient tone trilled from the brute. That's when they finally acted, some walking out and past Danny with a bitter stubbornness that could only come from someone who lived their entire life on an island full of supervillains, while others booked it past for fear of their safety. The bartender was nowhere to be seen, having ducked in the back right after the door was kicked in. Danny however took the arm of one of the young men drinking there that night, cutting off their escape. "Malcolm?" "Ah... S-shit dude, what do you want?". That was all the confirmation The Chimera needed before his grip got more forceful. A powerful, bestial hand grasping the dark-haired kid's throat and pushing his whole body onto one of the shitty, termite-infested tables. "Whatever you know about your GatecrrRasher buddies." By now Malcolm knew he was all kinds of screwed. A villain shaking him down for that kind of talk didn't mean anything pleasant, for him or his buddies. "How did you even find me!?" was all he could choke out past the firm grip. "Your dealerssS talk. Gatecrashers - Now." "S-shit shit shit, okay, what do you-" "Anything." Yalton snarled, not even letting the stupid question finish. "Okay, okay! Fuck me, ever since Emps was killed by those Sinister Guys, Baron Deadeye took over... He's working with this weird cult, Chapel of Nyx or something, they-" Malcolm didn't even get to finish before the blast of a twelve gauge made the room ring and caused Danny to flinch ever-so-slightly. The wound on his back was a gnarly mess. Fur blasted away and bare hide underneath peppered with the tightly clustered grouping of double zero buck. The bearings however didn't make it far, easily able to be plucked out and still visible to the bartender who just tried to blow away the Chimera raiding his bar. The Chimera who turned his head with a very impatient expression. It was impressive how quickly the still-smoking shotgun was dropped, it's owner losing any courage he had and running right out of his establishment along with the rest of his customers. Now Malcolm was Daniel's only focus. "Chapel of what now?" "Church! Church of Nyx, some crazy cyborg cult Dead eye's working with, I don't know why-" "That it?" The Chimera asked, cutting off his prisoner yet again. "YES, please! Don't hurt me it's-" A much more subtle krk cut off the Gatecrasher. Yalton's grip turning from firm to lethal enough to snap Malcolm's neck without much issue before he finally let go and let the corpse slump off the table. "Well it'ssS a start."