chase

Date: During or Post “Hellions Raise Hell” Location: A makeshift ambulance triage center in/around Steel Canyon. Characters: Misosazai Misosazai sat at the curb next to makeshift triage center, exhausted. Her hair was partially spilling out from under her bandana, but since she wasn’t overwhelmed by the smell of burning hair, it seems that the bandana did its part when it counted. Part of her wished she’d held onto Ryk’s old Hellion vest. It wouldn’t have been much protection and may have caused confusion with some of the heroes, but it was more protection than the jeans and bandeau she went into battle with. Every inch of exposed skin was marked by smudges of ash, blood or apparent 1st degree burns. Minor scratches and streams of sweat laced them together. She’ll likely have a shiner to go with the swollen lip once she cleaned up, too. A pretty large blister was forming on her left arm, so I guess that’s at least one 2nd degree burn to add to the list. As exhausted as she felt, this was the most alive she’d felt since… well, she couldn’t think of a time. The battle had gone on for hours. She’d crossed paths with a few heroes during the fray- not enough to exchange names, but she’d gotten some nods of approval and glares of disapproval at her tactics. Without any of their fancy arrest teleporters, she had to make sure that her foes didn’t get back up to fight again in some other way- finishing the fight with a dislocation, a break, or shattered fingers, whatever the situation permitted. She’d personally been responsible for freeing several people bound for human sacrifice and keeping hellions from several explosive bundles until someone else could defuse them. Most of the time, though, she was just hitting, and hitting HARD. No holding back. No pulling hits for sparring. The workboots threw off her timing a bit but made up for it with a more solid connection. The smoke and distant alarms suggested that the hellion fight was still going on, but who knows? The ambulance radio referenced incidents with the Family, Warriors, something going down at the zig… whatever this was, this thing was huge. It didn’t make any sense. Bombings. Sacrifice. Assault. Chaos. These were all Hellions 101, sure, but where did the world’s most random scavenger hunt fall into this? She pulled out Bernie’s list and compared it to another that was pulled off of one of Pyroclast’s “generals” after she’d hyperextended both his knees. The lists didn’t even match! There was some overlap, but nothing that really stood out in any notable way. What was this all about? What was she missing? She folded them back up and tucked them away. *It doesn’t matter. Just get up. Keep fighting. Keep helping. When there are no more hellions, go after the warriors. Keep fighting… until…* Closing her eyes, she focused on her training, letting her muscles relax, then tense, then relax. Her breathing slowed, but deepened as she willed away the pain and fatigue. *… until it ends.* She stood, stretched, and looked for the next hot spot. *… until everything ends.*

"So... nobody heard the frickin creepy-ass say, "Rabinowitz"? " She regretted it almost immediately, realizing that Mr. Invisible Handsy with the creepy voice was probably very close to her listening. Not the kind of person you'd want to offend, I'd wager. She called out to nobody in particular, "So sorry, for calling it creepy-ass. It... it was a... fine.. ish.. voice. It just kinda caught me off guard!" Still flustered, she calls out to Paul, "Could you make that a double?"

About Misosazai Misosazai is the a martial arts/ninjitsu scrapper. She’d have been a stalker, but the Stalker martial arts trades out some of the flashier moves that seemed so appropriate for her, so the presence pool serves as a substitute. Most of her costumes are intended to resemble various foe factions with the hope that she’d slip by cursory notice. In-game bio: Veteran heroes of Paragon may recall Kirasu Ward- she ran a dojo providing self-defense training for civilians and heroes alike. If so, they remeber her daughter- a permanent fixture in the dojo since she was in diapers- a tiny frenzy of kicking, spinning, and grandstanding acrobatics rebelling against all her mother's lectures to tone it down. "Be Misosazai. present, but unnoticed. Don't draw attention to yourself." Misosazai. japanese for wren. Few ever heard her called by her real name, just some variation of that ("dizzy mizzy," was popular after a few frenzied moves left her too stunned to stand. ) Kirasu and family were lost in a Rikti bombing but there have been unconfirmed reports of someone resembling her battling gangs through the city. -hates the nickname "dizzy mizzy." -looks like her mom. -unregistered hero/vigilante. -brother Ryk also MIA. Visual Reference: Will upload a few soon, but Misosazai is a reimagining of Shandora Ward, an old character from my comics: http://patternsinthestatic.blogspot.com/search/label/Shandora Ward

The following was a background story for Misosazai I’d had sitting around, lacking a good event to drive her to full hero action. Terminal’s “conceit” story arc gave me the inspiration on how to wrap it up and simultaneously tie her to those events. ---------------------- Misosazai had sworn she’d never be back back in Kreig Tower, but here she was. The once-prime real estate overlooking Perez Park, now a half-smoldering home to Hellion squatters. At least she could tell herself that it wasn’t the same place as before- the area she and Ryk had called home had been torched, leaving nothing recognizable of her time there. Next floor up, much of the same. It was two more stories before there was any activity. The guard outside leered at her but let her pass. She pulled the hellions vest tighter, regretting the choice of a bandeau and baggy jeans. It was normally a versatile piece, letting her assume a number of gang colors without looking too layered- a helpful tactic when navigating the city without drawing attention but here, in this context, the vest practically hid it away, suggesting she was a bit more ready to party under that vest than the average reveler. Hellion “law” had little place for mercy or sentiment. They encouraged infighting to weed out the weak. Someone like her- small, even for a teen, would be convenient prey if not for the gang colors. They were clearly too large for her, so that suggested she was under someone else’s protection. They may still see her as vulnerable and want whatever she may be trading for that protection, but unless they were rash or high (imagine finding THAT in a hellions gang), they’d hesitate until they learned whose claim they may be infringing on. That should be enough time. Child and Family services had been heavily burdened when she and her brother entered the system, orphans of yet another Rikti raid. They’d put the kids in separate placements, so she and Rik ran off, determined to stay together as the only family they had. They were an odd pair- only two years apart, but while she’d inherited so many of her mother’s Asian features- small and lithe, Ryk’s teen years brought out their father’s side- a hulking build, swarthier skin, and facial hair that had other parents constantly challenge his age at martial arts tournaments he’d attend. He was only two years her senior but could easily be passed off as her dad. It was Ryk- obviously- that attracted the Hellions’ recruiters. They’d been on the streets long enough that the promise of warm beds and food was enough to lure them in, and he’d already done worse than the initiation tasks they sought. That was the price of keeping the family together. She followed the noise and smoke to the core party. The aroma was heavy with incense and burnt wood, but hints of toxic fumes from burning wiring, furniture, and Lord knows what else mixed with it. She passed several revelers in the hall, doped up on who knows what or making out, most showing some recent injury or burn. Hellion parties aren’t for the squeamish. Farther down the hall, wrathful roars and chants carried over the music, suggesting events that she’d rather not see or become a part of. The smell evoked memories. This floor had been vacant and dead silent the last time she visited it, but even then, the fires on the floor below had marked the air here. She and Ryk stood at the now-shattered window to plan their next move. One big score was all he needed to pay their way out of the city and leave this mess. A run through the depths of the sewers to a forgotten Rikti War cache promised just that. “If nothing else, we should be able to live large till we can find someone from the B13’s or the Phoenix Pride to let us crash there for a bit, or maybe one of the other hero groups. A lot of heroes owed a lot to mom” he’d told her. “So where were they when she died?” She hadn’t meant to, but she touched a raw nerve. Ryk had been at an out-of-state tournament when the attack happened, and it took a week for them to be reunited. The city had grown efficient with mass-burials in the wake of the war, and with all the destruction during the raid there was no special attention given to the flattened grocery or the dojo above it. “Where were you?” He fired back. “She TOLD ME to run.” “Funny time for you to start listening to her.” That was their last exchange. She stayed up most of the night formulating the retort. She may have inherited her mom’s looks, but her temperament clearly came from dad’s side, and she planned to go full latina crazy on her brother. When he wasn’t back the next night, it had boiled up to needing its own new category- Latina psycho crazy just didn’t cut it. When the third night ended without his return, the fury broke and she just wanted him back. On the fourth and no word on the sewer-raiders return, the more predatory Hellions moved on the now-unprotected girl. They learned that her brother wasn’t the only tournament-capable fighter in the family. All that pent-up Latina fury fueled a ruthless battle with nothing held back. They may have learned a lesson, had they survived. She hadn’t been back since. Now she’d made her way to the dense crowd, hiding in her own obscurity. She wasn’t able to penetrate the crowd and see, but she was getting a better understanding from the crowd’s response alone. “Dizzy Mizzy!” So much for being unrecognized. “Burner.” Yes, a thoroughly unoriginal nickname for a hellion, but with a real name of Bernie, it was also an easy one to get- or Burner Bernie if you wanted to pick a fight. She almost did- he DID use, “Dizzy mizzy” after all. Instead, she kept it businesslike and said little. Bernie hated awkward silence and would say anything to fill the void. She may have just found her informant. “I’d heard you’d run! I mean, after Ryk, I didn’t blame you.” She nodded in affirmation, but said nothing. “If… if you need anything, you know I’m here. Things are getting wild here pretty fast.” Silence. “I’ve got my own floor now- not an easy climb, but that makes intruders rare- and Shel.. Shel’s open to a lot of things.” Of course this wasn’t an offer of true charity, it was a hookup attempt. Such a sweet gesture in the memory of his friend. She just stared past him. He grabbed her arm, “Look, once these guys learn you’ve got nobody backing those colors, they’ll take them from you- and they won’t stop with just the colors.” His eyes suggested that he was still struggling on whether he’d leak that revelation to the others. She just continued to stare past him, but opened her senses to detect anyone else that may act on what they’re hearing. “Shit, kid, they just sacrificed someone… like thirty feet away… among other things. They’re already hungry for blood, and this is the start. There’s shit you’ve got no clue about. You’ll need friends to survive.” He knew something, but she wasn’t interested in pursuing his definition of friendship to get it. “You were Ryk’s friend. That didn’t help him survive.” He dragged her toward the window, “Ryk? Ryk was great, kid- had a lot of promise, but his heart wasn’t in it. I told him not to go running around the sewers with that crew, but they wanted the big score. Shitheads wouldn’t listen that the REALLY big score was coming to those who waited. Now it’s here.” “Look out there! It’s an ARMY- our numbers have surged by the hundreds. Pyroclast’s got the track on real sources of power- shit that makes those guns in the sewers look like chump change, and he’s shared that with the GENERALS of his army.” He pulled out a crumpled note and waved it in her face like it was some sort of trophy, “That’s right, Burner Bernie’s no joke now, kid. I’ve moved up. We’re going to war. We’re burning this whole place down, and we’re bringing hell to earth, baby. “So, let’s give everybody here a good understanding of who’s protecting you and then get you somewhere safe before the real fun begins.” As power-drunk as he was, It was pretty clear that a peck on the cheek wasn’t what he had in mind. Not that it mattered- she’d have turned even that down. Instead, a quick twist broke his grip, a painful finger hold brought his chin down to optimal range, and a perfectly timed knee met his throat once it did. As he flailed back into the crowd, she tore the note from his hand- an impulse- she wasn’t sure why. Bernie was having trouble rasping out orders, but his team got the message. Suddenly leaping through broken glass more than five stories up became the most appealing exit. She remained mindful to stay close enough to the building so the occasional brush could slow her descent. Even with her training, a fall from this height could be deadly. When she hit the ground she sprinted toward the Perez gates, turned a corner, then dropped into a pre-arranged hideout behind some rubbish. It took a while for the pounding in her ears to diminish and calm herself enough to assess the situation. The Hellion armies were already on the move- from every direction she heard explosions gunfire, and cries of terror from people not as prepared as she was for personal defense. There were some signs of resistance, but not nearly the presence that she’d come to expect from the city. How big was this, if they’re this scattered about? Where were the heroes? Her brother’s words echoed in her mind “Where were you?” Her cheeks burned with rage- at her brother, at the hellions... at herself. She wasn't going to run this time. The hellions vest was the last thing Misosazai had of Ryk’s… or to any of her family. She slipped it off and tossed it onto the rubbish. She didn’t need it. She had a feeling she’d be seeing all of them soon enough. With that, Misosazai headed off toward the nearest signs of resistance.

Tabby's getting a bit powerful to keep treating her like a newbie. I probably won't play this one in-game much, but sharing it here since I had fun writing it. /em cellphone Hi, this is Tabitha Lachann, one of Miriam's transfers while she's out. Last week's community service credits weren't applied to my account. Look under 'Tabby'. /em waiting /em cellphone That's me. What exactly do you mean by 'move to somewhere with a different security level'? I've been patrolling that neighborhood for months. I know the place. I know the people! It's an easy commute! Emma's bakery leaves me all the extra samples every night! Oh, you mean those bullshit tests that were 'purely routine' and 'wouldn't change a thing'. 'Just try your hardest.' THOSE tests? I'm pretty sure the guy I spoke to left out the 'probably.' So how bad did I blow it? I just want to be on the record that I wanted to be a records clerk, that this whole patrol thing said this was a hilariously bad id... Really? REALLY? /em wounded /em cellphone Did you get your equipment checked? because that's... that's just wrong. Well, for starters, I had a teacher in middle school that lost three fingers, and that was only a quarter stick. I still have all my fingers, and those blasts go off pretty darn close. Ok, I'll give you that. Could work like a well-tamped shaped charge, I guess. No. No formal studies, just tons of Mythbuster reruns. But even if they have that kind of force they've got no range! They're supposed to but I haven't figured that part out yet. I gotta run up and practically slap someone for it to hit them. That's not a winning strategy. I'm barely 4' tall and weigh in the 70's lbs. Not exactly linebacker material. Yeah, that's what I do now, I find a bad guy, I sneak up real close, build up a big charge and... /em afraid /em cellphone OhmyGod. I've... um... It was kinda funny the first time and was really effective... so I've been kinda using a Kancho as my opener. kancho. It's a japanese thing. kinda like a wedgie, but think 'shove' instead of yank. Yeah, except I shove a tightly compressed ball of arcane energy right between the butt cheeks too... right before it expands... Explosively, as we're discussing. WELL AT THE TIME I DIDN'T KNOW I WAS DOING THE EQUIVALENT OF A DYNAMITE ENEMA, DID I? I just wanted to make sure they weren't going to hit back. OH YEAH it worked. Am I in trouble? I feel like I should be in trouble. Really? A justifiable use of force? Well, thank you mister caseworker, your job is done. You've successfully reformed me. I will never stray from the straight and narrow now that I know that the pyrotechnic proctologist would be justified in using his signature move on me! Too many characters in that name? REALLY? That's your takeaway from this conversation. Maybe it SHOULDN'T BE justifiable. Well nobody told me. I didn't know that I was hammering in nitroglycerine suppositories. God, I feel terrible. Should I... I dunno. Send flowers to the zig infirmary? What's the protocol here? I'm gonna throw up. Oh, they did. It was hilarious. One moment spewing explicatives at some lady to get her to let go of the purse, the next spewing their lunch, lemme tell ya. Hah! God, I'm a terrible person. I... I gotta stop doing that. I just don't... what do I do if I don't take them down in one hit anymore? Do I just wave my hand and say 'I'm not the one you're looking for?' Some do that? Really? Well, he's a psychic, that doesn't count. I'd have better luck pretending they just caught a catgirl getting a little handsy. No, I'm not doing that. Well, I regret saying it. No, I think you're reading that wrong. You shouldn't be saying 'well, your medical records do say you're remarkably resilient.' the fact that I HAVE medical records in the two months I've been in town should be proof that I'm not very resilient.' Besides, how do you really quantify resilience. Oh, they do have that. So what does AAA mean? No. NO. nononono. First, No, you are not calling it Arcane Anal Assault and second, it is NOT my signature attack. Well if you just put it in the system, you can remove it. Finally, I don't care if it's common to rate durability in relation to one's own powers, we will NOT discuss my resilience in terms of the number of ... AAA's... I can take. I don't care if that's how the system works. CHANGE IT. Then get IT on it. That move is officially retired. Never use that name again. Ever. I swear, if those records ever get leaked, I'm going full supervillain on city hall- remember that. Well, like you said, too many characters in that name anyway, so I'll take my chances. Just make sure it gets corrected, OK? Ok, so back to the community service credits. I just need to move on to tougher neighborhoods. Fine. Any recommendations? Mmm...hmm... and Peregrine island? what's the ferry ride cost? My budget's kinda strained. Free... ok, I can make that work. Gonna miss Emma's bakery. Does City Hall still do donut days? She can bite me. I only went for seconds after everyone had a chance to get one. Well that's just unreasonable. Do you want me out fighting crime or waiting around for everyone to claim seconds before I take thirds? Good. So, what are the big threats in Peregrine Island... /em text /em cellphone ...Nemesis, Rikti, Malta, and Carnival of Shadows... /em text /em cellphone What? Why would you even say that? I guarantee that everyone in the office just heard you tell me BY NAME that it's ok to do that butt stuff with Nemesis' Army. Are you trying to INSPIRE fanfic writers? You're making it worse. Just... stop. No more butt stuff. I know what you were trying to say. Nemesis. Robots. Really sophisticated ones, no need to hold back. That's great. Ok, so, is there any way to credit me for last week, since it's not really my fault that I wasn't told all this? Well get IT on that too, then. I'll see you on Donut Day. Reserve a strawberry-filled one for me if you can. No, the cream gets everywhere. I don't want a repeat of that meme. Bye. /em frustrated

The enthall of the cash-in-hand dissipated, leaving her with a hole inside- a hole that just moments ago had the potential of being filled with something other than stale ramien noodles. *Welp, back to mooching meals from supergroup recruitment events, I guess...* "You heard it too, right? Freaky voice saying his name? Robinowitz or something like that?" She looks around the bar. "Anyone else hear that?"

Every hair on Tabby's body went on end, briefly making it look like the sundress was several sizes to small, and her tail was on the verge of perma-bristle after this whole experience. Tabby wasn't unfamiliar with strange sounds- her aura sight came with a side of synesthesia - someone's aura would often "sound like" iron or "taste blue" or any number of confusing combinations - so a voice that sounded not unlike a semi-moistened pile of tentacles wasn't alarming. The fact that she so instantly recognized it as such, though... that caused something of a psychic break. The sensible part of Tabby (admittedly, a very small part) said "nope" and left. Didn't wait for the rest of her. Didn't try to gather consensus with the other parts or even say goodbye, she just "noped" her way back to the apartment, packed her things, went to the bus station, and chose the most normal-sounding destination on the list. She'd seen enough catgirl dojinshi to know that when tentacles talk, it's time to leave. She'd stop "nope'ing" somewhere west of Ohio. The rest of Tabby suffered through the psychic break rather quickly, in part focusing on the mental math she'd done on the wad of cash she was holding. Besides, the disembodied voice made her totally vindicated in her "invisible man" suspicions, and she hardly ever got to bask in her victories- however disturbing their implication may be. Plius, she now had a voice to go with mister-handsy, or tentacle-y, or whatever. She relaxed. Her fur smoothed- even her tail relaxed, and her response was even, if not clinical as her eyes remained fixated on the wad of bills, doing another quick tally. "... So, is that Al Rabinowitz, or Spanky Rainowitz.... and do you have any ID? This is an AWFUL lot of cash. and I should probably hold on to it until someone shows me some ID."

Tabitha's eyes widen when she sees the ID in Paul's possession, but since he doesn't seem to care she figures it's one of those "if you're old enough to protect and serve, you're old enough to be served" kinds of establishment. *Best hero perk yet!* She initially gave Paul a wary eye over the money fold. She'd read a great deal online about catgirls in clubs and bars, and although nothing really covered strangers practically tossing cash in their direction, it certainly wouldn't be out of place- kinda like someone placing quarters on the pool table to claim the next game or something***. She wanted nothing to do with that. Once she slid her ID back into her phone holster and discovered her missing money, the pieces fell in place and she took the cash back with a smile. "Oh, moonshine shot whiskey? that sounds great! I can handle it*. Don't worry**." Her eyes fell back on the money clip beside her, extremely curious to take a look, but still wary of what it may mean. She looked around the room once more, reached out, hesitated, then grabbed the billfold to study it. "Ok, so anyone know an Al or.... maybe a Spanky****?" OOC: * she can't * * do worry. *** Tabby's not happy about the feliform life, but she's done a lot of "opposition research" on the Internet to understand how people perceive her kind. Ever since she realized that the school internet filter blocked 95% of the search results for "catgirl" she was determined to learn why... then permanently scarred when she did. **** In case anyone else's mind was in the guttter , I seriously didn't intend it, but "maybe a spanky" does sound sadly like something a barhopping catgirl would suggest.

why do I imagine a whole channel full of names that are variations of pirate phrases Random general chat poster: Ahoy! It's pirate week. Ahoy: Arr, I know already. Why does everyone keep telling me? Arr: Aye, right? Aye: Avast, ye speak the truth. Avast: Huh? Wha? I didn't say nothing I was just drinking my rum! Arrrrr: [[Pinnacle Veteran??]] Avast: Aye! Aye: Ahoy! Ahoy: Arr [r]: if (CHT.GEN.LFT(3)='ARR') CHT.GEN='Avast'

It a little bit of a mix. Pocket D and Atlas Park are probably two of the easiest "introduction" roleplaying scenarios, followed by watching broadcast for events, like Jokers Wild hosting something in their SG base. Roleplaying during missions is great fun, but it's important to broadcast that interest in help/lfg when looking for a team. It does make missions take longer, so if other players were more interested in steamrolling for XP or inf, it can lead to both of you being frustrated. I've heard of players that go so far as making AE missions for a player-as-GM moderated roleplaying story module, even, so it's out there. Use the OOC channel (I also saw a "looking for RP" channel, but haven't seen activity in it) to help find people sharing your interest. You'll find it.

Tabitha studied the other members of the bar, trying to get a feel of the room, and -more importantly- how she should behave. The sundress discomfort had settled- even after all the years of getting used to school uniforms, the pressure where it rested against her fur was magnified, and she had to concentrate to not keep plucking it away, potentially giving a view of cleavage or down her lower back. Modesty was a strange thing- she was fine with things being visible when she was wearing nothing, but now that she was covered up, she feared showing even a hint of it. She was so lost in the introspection that the loud clank caught her off guard. The hair along her spine had just recently settled, but now rebounded into a full ridge. Where the sundress met the lower back, the hairs strained against the fabric, giving the feeling that someone had placed a hand there. Her tail bristled out to triple its normal width. As she registered the money clip in her peripheral vision, she figured out what was going on. *Some arrogant rich prick was making a play.* She’d planned for the situation, imagining brushing off unwanted suitors with some reference to swiping left/right, coming across as a seasoned no-nonsense person that wouldn't take their shit. Unfortunately, when the moment arrived, she couldn’t remember which direction meant what in the app (she’d never even downloaded it, let alone used it) and realized how terribly bad it would be to get the directions wrong in this context. She hesitated- maybe too long, but eventually mustered the state of mind to improvise, “Look, if you think I’m the kind of girl that’ll be impressed by a wad o cas… “ … and noticed the denomination on the top dollar in the fold… “Holy forking shirtballs!” Yet, when she spun around to face the source of unwanted attention, there was nobody there. Her tail thrashed furiously with enough force to move furniture, and now all her hairs stood on end. “um… are we sure that the power suppressors are working? because I’m getting a serious ‘invisible man’ vibe here?” She looked back at the money clip. *rich creepy invisible man with an apparent thing for catgirls. I should’ve stayed home today.*

There have been real economic studies on this, and generally speaking in relation to the game's economy "high end" inf sinks server little to no purpose. 1) "Hoarding, but not using" inf is, for purposes of the game economy, very similar to that inf not existing. it's not circulating, so it's not having any real impact. There IS a risk that it could enter back into circulation, of course, but only if there are things that arise worth buying- and even then, there's a limit to that. 2) If you make a "1 billion inf" sink, the people who are going to buy it are not going to make themselves broke by buying it early. They're going to wait until they have enough BEYOND that amount to cover all their foreseeable needs OR they'll work to rapidly regain their losses, both of which negate the impact on the economy. These do have value as prestige items, don't get me wrong, but there's a reason why devs are so willing to just make a new currency to deal with the new expansion's rewards (vanguard merits, Astral merits, Emperyan merits). It prevents the out-of-control hoarding of the old currency from wiping the value in the new achievements. all that said, I sure wouldn't object to something that converts inf to incarnate-related stuff.

OOC: working on a response, but gotta say I love sparkle... yes, Tabby's money wad would have been far, far less. That means its still somewhere out on the floor, too.

I really like seeing the hard analysis. thanks. I've never broken it down but generally this has been my process for quite a while, maxing out the inf on several characters. When I started, the ATO's almost all went for 10m alone, converters were over 100k, and catalysts were over 4m, so much crazier profit margins then. Used to do it with insane frequency, but as more people have been stocking the market this way I've pared back to posting 200 once or twice a week. I don't think I've ever sold an ATO for under 8 million, but it's good to know I could. If there are too many for sale (>15 for most sets, >10 for dom, sentinel, or epic AT's) I burn a converter and try again. Never have had to do that more than three times to get something that was in low enough supply that 8m would be a reasonable sell within a few days. When there's a gross oversupply of an ATO (>25) I sometimes put up bids to see what I can get for 5-6m, convert it to something in low supply, and put it back out. By far the most profitable tactic is still a half-year away for anyone to try, though: During the winter event, I bought >600 winter packs when they dropped to 10m. Now that the event's over and prices have again normalized to the 25m cost, I've been breaking them up on occasion and reselling. Same process as before: If over 20 of an item, I use a convertertill I get one in lower supply.

Tabby nodded at the two as they left, thankful that the attention had passed but still struggling with the ribbon (*no... don't get started on that song!*) Normally, she wore gel caps over her claws, keeping them extended and serving as the final joint on her fingers, but she'd left them behind during her afternoon parkour, leaving her either struggling with making knots out of claw-tips or clumsily working without her topmost fingers. It didn't hurt that her fur was practically standing on end- every brush where the fabric touched felt like a little needle jab... and that's not even mentioning the goddamn giant of a mosquito that she kept feeling buzzing near her- she couldn't see it, but dammit, it caused just enough of a disturbance in the air for her hairs to pick up. If she wasn't fuddling with the ribbon, she had to stop to swat away at it when it got too close. *damn, this drink better be worth it- which reminds me...* "So, Paul, do you, uh... have anything you'd recommend? I'd like to try something new." Left unsaid, of course, was that ANYTHING would be new to her. She hadn't touched liquor since she stole one of her dad's bottles of black label the night of everything in her life went wrong.

Most of the risk is whether the submitters of user generated content were the actual creators of it- in this case, plagiarism or heavy lifting from other sources. Some of the community-vetting can detect things that go beyond homages. In many ways, Kallisti Wharf with community-driven content wouldn't present much more risk than AE already does. It's still content in the game directly delivered by the game to other people in the platform. Making it "official" makes very little difference- particularly when you consider that community-driven aspect of this could be as well-hilighted as AE content is.

I think this needs to be level 40-50 content as originally intended, not incarnate. I agree with the people that things like the Rikti, Nemesis, etc are a bit overdone. Currently in the 40-50 range, we have The generic hero-battling-larger-threats zone of Peregrine Extradimensional zones in portal Climbing the machinery of the massive villain organization of Arachnos Massive alien (alternate-reality, really) warfare with Rikti. We lack a good morally-grey more "street level" narrative. Not just vigilante/rogue types of content, though this is also an area where for the whole cycle of changing roles could flourish. What I'd do: Primal hero/villain forces should also take a back seat. Arachnos has a toehold here, sure, but we have Grandville for the "rising up through Arachnos" narrative. Let less established crime syndicates shine. Forces like longbow and or wyvern have a similarly muted presence- their focus is elsewhere and they want the new locals to prove they can police themselves. It's not uncommon for immigrant groups to look to "police" and "protect" themselves, so it's easy to see how factions that may have existed in Praetoria may take similar-but-different roles here, or even fragment differently. It's also not uncommon for "host nation" criminal groups to want to get a piece of the action, and all that jockying of power can lead to strange bedfellows and shifting alliances. Chaos, with no dominant faction would be my way: It's easy to see tales of corporate warfare as organizations like Syndicate fragments teaming with/jockeying against Crey, Family, and Tsoo. Resistance (crusader) and destroyers could mix with up-leveled Warriors, Family, and Tsoo. Resistance (Warden) and Loyalist (Responsibility) factions may find common goals working together if they can overcome some of the bad blood and conflicting priorities. Other organizations may be interested in assuring they don't. Freed seers will be invaluable assets to organizations that can snatch them up, or they may band together in a paranoid alliance that "takes care of their own" and finds threats in the minds of everyone everywhere. That's just a short list, but it should already be apparent where each of these conflicts could lead to arcs where heroes, villains, rogues, or vigilantes may reasonably have an interest. This broad, chaotic set of stories helps us also navigate the development of it: we crowdsource: Define the various top-factions of interest and the general tone you're seeking. Then hold "contests," with people coming up with their own stories using AE (and maybe supplemental docs for things that can't be done in AE yet) following your framework. Make sure contestants know that their work may be modified to add consistency or to work with the zone.

Excellent, thanks. Since the original archival paragonwiki still existed, I wasn't sure if we were keeping record here or just referencing the original source.

Stupid question here on intent/process of this: I'll use this page as an example: https://hcwiki.cityofheroes.dev/wiki/Emotes It breaks down the "unlockable" emotes by the pack that they were part of (or whatever unlocked them). Many/most/maybe all of these are just available now with no unlocking. Is the desirable to clean this up and just put all emotes in a master list (maybe replace the "issue" column with a flag on which are avaiable under quickchat and which are not...) since that's how they're experienced in Homecoming, or just focus on adding the missing (text, cellphone, liedown, etc?)

One of the now-older mentors in a never-completed comic was a former childhood-tv-show-star, "Penny Powers" fighting crime with her "Pink Pompoms of Doom!" Her agent/brand manager was so SOOO pissed at her- she was supposed to say "Pink Pompoms of Pummelling"-- he had a thing for alliteration.

This one's a bit situational- needing a high perch that's still close enough to the ground to be audible. (Creative Foraging) /em binoculars /em texting /em cellphone Yeah, this is Grace at Accounts. Did someone just place a huge order from City of Gyros on their CreyCorp card? Samantha Hardy? for her whole team? Just delivered? No, I'm, just doing a quick fraud check fraud check. One minute /em plot /em cellphone just a moment /em text ok, they're gone. Look, Cate, we had ...visitors... here asking about Samantha's project. Right. You said it. Keep this to yourself, please. Don't let anyone know I'm involved. Thanks. Be careful. Bye. /em binoculars. Wait for i... wow, that's fast. Look at em run. I didn't think that many people would FIT in that building. ... and they totally forgot about the Gyro platters. Such a shame. /em knuckles ... guess it's time to rescue some Gyros. /em binoculars ... I did not expect the fire though. /em grief ... or explosions. /em afraid /em text ok. let's just pretend that never happened. Ooo still Donut Day down at the docks. Shame about that rumored customs raid....

"Oh, I'm fine. Honest. Totally my fault- not looking where I was going." Tabitha seemed to shrink from the attention- or was it just her diminutive appearance near the burly scotsman. As Hagis told of the perils of the true kilt-wearer, her tail involuntarily bristled and wrapped tighter against her leg. Despite doing her best not to imagine it, memories of an old "scotsman" song that the upperclassmen would play on the long bus ride home kept infiltrating her thoughts, leaving her imagining a leaping Hagis exposing a blue ribbon tied to... nevermind. *Purge that thought. BURN IT.* She tried hard to focus on the picture, stretching to get a good look without getting too close to the hulking frame. "Rictus? Latin for open mouth. Either got that name for always smiling or never shutting up, I bet." The tattoos are familiar- might be someone I ran into at High Park last week, but it's hard to tell." If she could blink out of existence, she would at that moment. Too much attention, no matter how nice it is, isn't her thing, particularly when it emphasizes her (lack of) attire. Instead, she gave her best graceful smile and accepted the dress. It was nice lightweight dress with a blue ribbon around the waist (*"see yon sleeping scotsman... DAMN IT!*) The smile turned into a grimace as she slipped into the dress in much the same way someone with a really REALLY bad sunburn might try to dress. If the dress was made of sandpaper or thumbtacks... or bees. Lots o Bees. She was still working getting it on, still fumbling with the ribbon (*..tied into a bow.. around the bonnie... STOP THAT!*) when she caught the tail end of the whisper And she bristled. Even here, the reputation of catgirls precedes her. She can never get a break [[OOC: If you've never heard the old phrase "rubbing a cat the wrong way"- well, it applies triple to Tabby, Her coat is incredibly sensitive to the touch, so moving when fully clothed can feel like needles brushing against her where they rub against the grain. Also, if you're unfamiliar with the classic earworm that's got Tabby so flustered:

Tabby's tail curled around her leg and the fur on her cheeks stood on end, an apparent equivalent of a blush. "Yeah, I guess with Drones around I can't just assume that the tallest roofs are safe for sunning." "I'm Tabitha, by the way." One of his earlier remarks sank in, "Power dampeners!" She touched her ears, tail, then stared at her hands, studying them for any change. A hint of a subvocalized "please please pleasepleaseplease" could be made out. After a moment, she gave up, "Guess that was too much to hope for. Probably for the best. It'd be an awkward time to lose the fur... I guess." it was a weak self-deprecating laugh of someone that was still a tad disappointed. "You don't happen to know of any dampeners that nullify transformation spells, do you?"

The door opens just enough for a diminutive form to slip in, cellphone in hand, and flatten herself against the door frame as she uses the phone's camera as a periscope through the barely-cracked-open doorway. A half dozen civilians scurried by followed by what could have been a drone. "God, I'm gonna hate convention season. I can already tell." she muttered. Turning to face the room, her ears perked up and whiskers curled forward as her eyes somehow appeared to double in size "Oh, A Bar!". Her demeanor immediately shifted into an absolutely terrible facsimile of a more seasoned adventurer. "I guess it's not too early for one or two, but I may have..." She started with such promise, casually slipping her phone back into a one of those nylon arm-holsters that joggers seem to love, but her toes struck war mace before she finished and she was sent stumbling forward, desperately juggling the phone in front of her. "...left..." (batted it overhead) "...my..." (left hand, barely missing the wall.) "...ID..." (right hand, knee level, ...just saved it) "...in..." (ricocheted off her chest) "...my..." (now off an elbow) "...other..." (almost there) "...pants..." (caught it!) "(Phew)" She didn'ts eem to notice the PCU freshman ID and a (very) small pad of dollar bills were flung free of the armband during the scramble. A hero registration card was precariously close to joining them. She just focused on reaching the bar, absently fishing out an earbud (wrapped in cotton balls and masking tape to fit) and giving a hopeful smile. A hint of confusion joined the smile as realized she hadn't a clue what to ask for. [[OOC: Anyone following memes online may recognize Tabby as an (unwilling) meme-sensation- to the point that the "Tabby Tracker" gives out weekly pizza prizes for submissions in various categories. Current top-voted post of the week is pretty weak- just a "hang in there..." variant of what appeared to be her dangling from the monorail over water somewhere off Talos Island. It doesn't have nearly as many votes as last week's first Tabby encounter with the Carnival of Shadows: ("it's not a real party till there's naked catgirls on the dancefloor") but many suspect that carnies manipulated that vote for the pizza.) Dom may recognize the faint bass from the headphones as one of her band's songs. Your choice on whether it's actually one of hers or those of Carrie Crew- a lame Poseur band from Rochester, NY that (poorly) mimics their performances and style (without paying royalties). ]]

(Besties 1) /em cellphone Hi, Flambeaux. It's Tabitha. Tabitha Lachann... we both go through the probationary hero program... Yes. Tabby, but I prefer... ...nevermind. I just hadn't seen you since I got rescheduled. You're not going anymore? Really? I... I... That's a big step, isn't it? I mean isn't this "our last chance to clean the slate and make amends for our past?" I'm pretty sure that was in bold- in RED- across the top of the paperwork. No, I don't want to be a downer. So... uh... new and exciting directions for you... I guess? Really? REALLY? /em text /em phone Uh, really? /em text /em phone Ah, I found it It's... it's just like you described. Kinda. Mostly. Well, you know how the news can be... No, I believed you, I just wanted to see the headlines. Not many of my friends make the paper, particularly like that. Well, yeah. ... I wouldn't go as far as saying besties- I mean, we shared a waiting room in the program and grabbed grub together, but we never did what "best buddies" do- ...like pajama parties or sneaking into clubs underage or spontaneously dancing in the street or whatever. I dunno, never had any besties, I just go by what I see on TV. Well, the last time you invited me to a party it got leaked to naughtyneko.com. I couldn't get anywhere near the place with those stalkers everywhere. No, I'm not blaming you. No, I'm not suggesting that you leaked it to get more people to show up to your party. You said that, not me. Maybe. Look, um, I know friends shouldn't let trivial things like this get between them, but I'm really hurting for cash this month. Any chance you could pay me back? Yeah. 50 would cover everything. Really? So just meet you where? Another party? Kallisti Wharf? No. that... that's fine. I can do that. I guess I'll just see you there then. I can't wait either... bestie. bye /em text ok. wait for it... 3 2 1 ... and there it is. New post on naughtyneko. Tabby attending can't-miss party with bestie Flambeaux in Kallisti Wharf. Posted by Flamin Hot Ass. /em dustoff No better name for ya, girl. Well, I guess it's another month of ramien. /em text ... a supergroup recruitment drive next week.,, /em hmmm (Recruitment 1) /em cellphone Hi, I saw your post about a supergroup recruitment event next Tuesday. Is it catered? Is that before or after the recruitment test? No, I just wondered... Lusca? Probably not good to do that on a full stomach. I gotta doublecheck my schedule, but probably. Bye /em text Ok, so that's a no for Tuesday, but if I wrangle things right, I can hit the Monday afternoon and evening events. Palm some leftovers to carry me over till Wednesday. Now... weekends... why doesn't anyone schedule anything for the weekends...