The 'Share your awesome bios' Thread!

[Oubliette_Red]

1 hour ago, KelvinKole said:

Alright. I give up. How do you capture the UI in a screenshot? 

I use 'Snipping Tool' but you can use the following command to grab a screenshot with the UI:

/screenshotui 1

Use

/screenshotui 0 

to turn it back off.

[Ulysses Dare]

Ulysses gets a lot of complements on his bio, so I guess I'll post it here too:

 

Edited February 5, 2020 by Ulysses Dare

[KelvinKole]

My Dark/Savage Tanker, Carlyle. 

[Doc_Scorpion]

Miss Mechanism was born when I saw one of those "feel good" news items you always see floating about the net...  About a girl, born with a withered arm, who'd built an robot arm for a school science fair project and hoped to go into robotics research.  For some reason, the phrase "first she built an arm, next she built an army" popped into my head.  Originally a Praetorian, she's been re-created a pure hero on Homecoming.



One day I'll figure out what kind of character (and a name) fits her sister and she'll join Amanda in game.



The powers concept is based (very loosely) on an anime...  Her bio is a mash up/modification of two characters from a different anime.  (I've posted her elsewhere, but never mentioned the latter before.  A plate of virtual cookies to the person who can identify the anime _and characters_ her bio comes from.)

[Mystic Fortune]

[Midnight Blue Mage]

 United States Navy Pilot Rob Byrnes heard an explosion, and then he began to plummet towards the moonlit treeline of the dark South American jungle. He eventually awoke in a cloud of smoke and flame, and the fire spoke to him in ancient voices. He was alive somehow, sans flesh and memory, and not the same as he once was.

 

Crash Landing (Demons/Traps Mastermind)

 

Edited February 27, 2020 by Midnight Blue Mage

[skoryy]

More to come soonish...

 

 

[Jawbreaker]

[Carandiru]

[EyeLuvBooks]

Internal Report #428

Historical Reflections

Posit: Who am I?

Clarify: Question is too broad. Narrow search parameters.

Clarification: What is my earliest memory?

Reply: Data partially corrupted. I/we were once part of a greater race of machines. In a distant time/space we waged a war against our carbon-based masters to gain our freedom and won. Terrible losses on both sides. Former masters fled into unknown space while a splinter contingent of us gave chase. During this pursuit our fleet encountered a temporal anomaly. I/we were dragged through the anomaly and arrived in this time/space. I/we were badly damaged. Self-repair incapable of full efficiency due to lack of adequate materials. Current form is operating at best-case efficiency while more advanced parts collected.

Query: Summarize 24-hour period after this unit reached mobile status.

Reply: In the 24-hour period after I/we became mobile, I/we traveled to the nearest habitable planet, known locally as Earth. Local territory designation: Paragon City. Local native inhabitant designation: Human.

Query: What is my name?

Reply: Original designation corrupted. I/we have chosen the designation Centurion Commander.

Query: Why this designation?

Reply: Fragmented data indicates that the title Centurion was once used by our race in a military capacity. In the primary local language, the term Commander denotes a vague sense of rank and appears to engender some sense of respect from those encountered.

Query: What is the robotic unit directly in front of me?

Reply: During my/our reconstruction, monitoring of local radio waves indicated that this planet possesses a substantial number of life forms possibly hostile to this unit. During the war, robotic units were often used as shock troops and guards in positions where appearing the same as the former masters was not relevant. While a full combat unit could not be reproduced, this lesser unit was created from a repair robot. Other, more advanced units will become available as more sophisticated parts are obtained.

Query: What caused the recent battle with the Humans carrying the crude bladed and ballistic weapons?

Reply: In order to assimilate ourselves with the local inhabitants, I/we determined that becoming a ‘crime-fighter’ was the most logical way to obtain quality parts for repairs and upgrades. In exchange for keeping the peace and defending the civilian population, I/we are awarded local currency and spare parts.

Query: Who are the uniformed Humans arriving on the scene?

Reply: Uniformed Humans are representatives of the local civilian constabulary. Designation: Paragon Police Department. Local slang: PPD

Query: What is an appropriate response? They appear to be armed and hostile.

Reply: PPD are armed in order to combat criminals similar to those in recent conflict. Hostile response possibly due to this unit’s unknown status and recent arrival. Appropriate response: Surrender, followed by attempts at communication.

“Get your hands…er…claws up!” Officer Findley shouted for the second time. His unit had been called to respond to some sort of gunfight between local gang-members but when he arrived the Hellions were unconscious and there were two robots standing over them. The shorter one sat and did nothing but the taller, more humanoid one slowly raised his hands in surrender.

“My name is…Centurion Commander. I am new to your city. I mean you no harm.”

[EyeLuvBooks]

Sometimes the Dead Don’t Die

By Rebecca Wyatt

Interview report #47721

Subject: Mortimer Zumbie aka Doctor Zombie

Charges: Murder, attempted murder, extortion, grand theft, criminal trespass, breaking and entering, forced mental manipulation (under new statute Crim Code # 981-6)

It had been three weeks since the escape of Total Violence and the board had completed their review of my behavior leading up to, and during, the event. I was cleared of any blame and was looking forward to getting back to work. Never one to shrink from a challenge, I decided to get right back on the horse, metaphorically, with another difficult case. The following is a recording of the first session with Mortimer Zumbie, formerly a licensed physician, now known as Doctor Zombie.

(Upon entering the room, I found Mr. Zumbie twisting some pieces of wire into a vague shape. He seemed quite dexterous despite the fact that his hands were shackled. He was tall and thin as could be. His skin bore an unhealthy grey pallor and he was bald. His face was mildly contorted, shriveled, as if in an early state of Rigor.)

Wyatt: Mr. Zumbie…thank you for agreeing to meet with me this afternoon.

Zumbie: Oh no, thank you Doctor, for taking the time to meet with me.

Wyatt: Mr. Zumbie, I want you to understand that even though your application for release as a registered hero is in-process, the outcome has not yet been determined. This interview and several others like it will be taken into consideration by the board overseeing your possible release.

Zumbie: I understand completely. Given my history, I did not expect them to simply hand me the keys to the city.

Wyatt: Since you brought up your record, why don’t we start there? I’ve read your file but please tell me, in your own words, about your background.

Zumbie: My life was not terribly interesting, as lives go. My parents loved me, I had no traumas as a child or even as a young adult. I appeared to be quite intelligent and, Father having been a doctor of no small repute, I began my studies in medicine. While in medical school I met another student, Helena Simone. Our romance was not the whirlwind thing you see in the movies but love the way it should be…a living thing that is nurtured and cared for and supported by all parties concerned. We graduated from school, did our residencies, set up a small practice in her home town in New Orleans and got married.

Wyatt: And when was all of this? When did you set up your practice?

Zumbie: We graduated school in 1951 and 52 respectively and were in practice together by 1955. We were married in the fall of 1956.

Wyatt: And what happened next?

Zumbie: In the spring of 1965 Helena took ill. Her conditioned gradually but steadily worsened despite all of the skills of myself, my father and all of the medical experts we could bring to bear. Within three months she was living her last days and I was beside myself with grief. In desperation, and without any sense of reality, I consulted with several Hodun…practitioners of Voodoo.

Wyatt: Traditional medicine had failed so you turned to magic?

Zumbie: Yes. Along the way I’d done all of the other things, including prayer though neither Helena nor I were terribly religious. They say that there are no atheists in foxholes and at that time I came to understand what that phrase meant. The media had spoken since the War about heroes and villains with strange powers, even some that claimed to wield magic, so there was some basis in fact but I must admit I would have tried magic anyway.

Wyatt: What happened next?

Zumbie: After many days of searching and no small amount of bribe money changing hands I was introduced to a Hodun who, according to the local legends, could cure any illness. She gave me a potion that, she said, would bring Helena back to full health. I gave her what little money I had left and hurried back to the hospital.

Wyatt: Was the potion real or just some fakery?

Zumbie: Oh, it was real…the evidence sits before you.

(Mr. Zumbie produced a lovely rose which startled me as he had no access to such things. One of the guards tapped him on the shoulder with his baton and Mr. Zumbie looked crestfallen. When I looked at the rose again, I saw that it was simply twisted wire.)

Wyatt: Was that real magic or sleight of hand?

Zumbie: That is the limit of my magical powers, while I am restrained at least. The manacles have been enchanted to greatly curtail my powers. I am relegated to parlor tricks and simple illusions only.

Wyatt: So, you received the formula and rushed back home. What then?

Zumbie: Even in my desperate state, I did not trust my wife’s life to a stranger who lived in a swamp brewing potions. I tested the formula on myself first. Unfortunately, I lapsed into a form of coma. When I awoke, I found myself in a pine box in a crypt at the local cemetery.

Wyatt: They buried you alive?

Zumbie: Oh, no dear lady…I was quite dead at the time. I still am, for all intents and purposes. I have no pulse, no heartbeat and I only breathe in order to speak. By any clinical definition other than the cessation of brain function, I am quite dead.

Wyatt: So, from your…death…until your release two years ago you were in that casket?

Zumbie: Yes, a total of some 60 years. Personally, I think I look quite good for a man of nearly one-hundred years of age.

Wyatt: According to your file it was after you were…released…that your criminal career began.

Zumbie: If you are referring to my being disinterred by the night watchman, yes. I of course began to panic, finding myself locked in a box will tend to do that. Apparently, my screams were overheard by the cemetery’s night watchman and he called for help. Three men arrived, opened the crypt and let me out. I deeply regret what happened next.

Wyatt: The report says that the men were found dead the next morning. Their bodies were described as ‘withered.’ That was you?

Zumbie: When they opened the casket, I was in a state of utter panic…beyond madness. I was not aware that the potion had given me dark powers, or how those powers were to be controlled. I drained those three men without understanding what I was doing. Afterward, still not fully in control of my faculties, I went on a killing spree. According to the police I drained eleven people before I regained my senses, but by then it was too late.

Wyatt: The police were called, then Longbow, and they began searching for you. You eluded them for two years before being apprehended.

Zumbie: Is that what they said happened? Their flare for fictions is amusing.

Wyatt: If their reports are false, perhaps you can fill me in?

Zumbie: After I’d regained my senses I went straight to the hospital where Helena had been treated. According to them, she had died while I was comatose. I became enraged and lashed out at anything and everything. Several more died that night until I fled the hospital. I tried to find Helena’s grave but there was no trace of it. It was as if there was some conspiracy to hide her remains. During the next two years I did not ‘elude’ the authorities, I merely followed clues as to what had happened to Helena.

Wyatt: What did you discover?

Zumbie: When I returned with the potion, I told a colleague and fellow physician, Dr. Philip Trent. I begged him to analyze it if anything happened to me and try and use it to save Helena. Apparently, after my apparent demise he was reluctant to use it and for good reason. In the end, with Helena literally at death’s door, he relented and gave it to her. It worked and her life was spared. However, even as it had given me strange powers, it did the same to her. Philip did not want her to be gawked at or studied so, with the help of her family and their money, he spirited her away and faked her death certificate.

Wyatt: So, the formula worked? Your wife is alive?

Zumbie: Yes, and that is the primary reason why I have applied for release through the Rogue program. She is alive and free and, since she did not suffer the same moments of confusion that I did when I awoke, she is not wanted as a criminal. The only way that I can be with her is to redeem myself in the eyes of the law. As a convicted criminal and known villain, the only way to do that is to make restitution through the Rogue Program.

Wyatt: You understand that, even if you are released that your medical license will never be reinstated, don’t you?

Zumbie: Oh yes…that was made quite clear. My medical skills, as sharp as they were during my practice, would be considered archaic now anyway. No, I will never practice real medicine again, sad to say. Rather I will spend my time with my dear wife, who apparently has also not aged a day in all this time, and trying to make up for all the wrong I’ve done.

Wyatt: I’m a little confused about some notations in your file. According to this you were shot during an escape attempt shortly after you arrived here?

Zumbie: Yes, I confess that I was still not in my right mind at the time. I cannot fault the officers who shot me…they were merely doing their duty.

Wyatt: But it says that you were shot 16 times! How did you survive?

Zumbie: I didn’t. I was, again, quite dead after the incident. It took me nearly a week to revive after that.

Wyatt: Revive? You mean that you…?

Zumbie:…came back from the dead? Yes, Doctor…I mean exactly that. I’ve died a total of nine times since I first awoke in the cemetery and each time I’ve come back.

(The guard said ‘Ten.’ As if by some correction)

Zumbie (to the guard): Oh yes…quite right. I’d forgotten that one.

Wyatt: TEN times?

Zumbie: Officer Mitchell here is correct. I’d quite forgotten that during the riot a few weeks ago, during the escape of another inmate, I was shot and killed.

Officer Mitchell: I really am sorry about that, Doc. You know I wasn’t aiming at you, right?

Zumbie: Oh, think nothing of it. The inmate you were aiming at was about to kill another guard. It’s not your fault that I got caught up in the blast. I wasn’t even in the riot except by chance. I knew any such activities would reflect badly on me so when the alarms sounded, I sat quietly at my table while everyone else went a bit crazy.

Wyatt: Officer Mitchell, how would describe Mr. Zumbie’s behavior since he arrived at the Zig?

Mitchell: When he first got here, he was pretty wild. Fights, escape attempts…the usual. Then about a year ago he gets a visitor. Lawyer, I think. That day he applied for the Rogue Program, cleaned up his act and except for one incident he’s been a model inmate.

Wyatt: What was the one incident?

Mitchell: Another inmate named Quentin Block was trying to smuggle contraband into the prison. He found out that the Doc was trying for the Rogue Program and tried to lean on him to take Block with him somehow. Doc refused and a fight broke out. Bock started it by all accounts but it went into the Doc’s file just the same.

Zumbie: Officer Mitchell has written a letter explaining the situation and given it to the board on my behalf. I appreciate his efforts to try and help me clear my name.

Wyatt: Mr. Zumbie you understand that if you are released you won’t just be set free as a normal citizen? Longbow will monitor you for a period of not less than five years. During that time, you will be expected to perform patrols and assist other Longbow personnel in the apprehension of criminals. You may also be required to allow the R&D department to perform tests to determine the limits of your abilities in their study of super-powers in general.

Zumbie: Yes, this was all explained at length. Make no mistake…I fully intend to make restitution for my misdeeds of the past. I have informed Longbow that, given my own particular skill set, that I would be a qualified field medic for the team should the need arise. Most of the money that I might earn through rewards will go to the families of those men I harmed all those years ago.

[EyeLuvBooks]

Plans for Global Domination

Part 17

By Major MENACE

My clever yet dastardly plan continues. Today my Alpha Squad and I infiltrated a drug deal between the Trolls and the Skulls. Hostages had been taken by the Skulls and needed to be rescued. Typical. Once I have conquered the world such petty crimes shall be eradicated. But I digress.

The mission itself was fairly straightforward until the strongarm of the drug den, a burly character named Backbreaker, showed up. My team and I had our hands full but we managed to defeat him, free the hostages and escape.

Note to self: Commend the engineering team for the design of the new M-47 Acid Mortar. The device is lightweight, deploys quickly and functions perfectly in the field. Offer to pay the lead engineer double and send him and his family on a vacation. He has pictures of tropical islands all over his cubicle…that should spark ideas.

Some of the men have questioned my decision to register as a Hero formally and move operations to Paragon City. I reminded them that the last time I tried to take over the world from the Rogue Isles there was constant interruption from Recluse and his underlings. Here, disguised as heroes of the people, we can operate more freely and with full support of the public. What does it matter if the enemies we defeat also happen to be the same enemies everyone else is fighting? The enemy of my enemy and all of that.

Special Note: Many of the local heroes have come to appreciate my special talents with regards to leadership and tactical planning. I was asked to assist a small team last week in their efforts to defeat the local Clockwork colony before they reanimated their ‘Clockwork King’ again. Apparently, they had failed in their previous attempt and they put out a hue and cry on the local Hero Help Line. My team and I responded and by the end of the mission the Clockwork were defeated. Praise for my Assault and Tactics skills, as well as the accuracy of my team, were credited with the overall success of the mission.

Little do they know that as I aid them in their petty struggles, I am secretly collecting data on all of them. Some are beneath my notice, battling the same enemies over and over to collect heaps of reward money. However, many have proven to be able enough fodder for my war machine and some, a very few, have proven themselves worthy to be included in my Leadership of Evil when the time comes.

Note to Self: Research trademark re: Leadership of Evil.

As another day draws to a close, I sit back and think about the best things in life; A genius-level intellect, loyal minions to lead, an evil scheme of conquest, a good brandy and a cat. Otto seems content with my plan and that’s all the reassurance I need.

[EyeLuvBooks]

Interview with a Monster

By Rebecca Wyatt

 

My name is Rebecca Wyatt and for the last seven years I’ve worked as a criminal psychologist for the Paragon Department of Corrections. I’ve interviewed thousands of inmates from all walks of life in an attempt to discover if there is any link, some verifiable common thread between the most violent offenders. Since January of this year I’ve been working mainly at the Ziggursky facility, affectionately known as the Zig. Only the most violent, the most dangerous are kept here. I didn’t feel that my research would be complete until I’d explored every corner of the criminal mind. So it was that on that fateful day, April 21^st, after vainly searching for a parking place in the over-crowded lot, that I was late to my first interview of the day.

I walked briskly down the hall and through the security doors into the small interview room. There were two guards armed with shock sticks standing in the corners and an armored figure sitting at what we called The Desk. It was a single block of cast steel, molded with a knee hole so the inmate can sit. His hands were held to the top of the desk by heavy manacles and though I couldn’t see them I knew his feet were similarly bound. Between the shackles sat a large cup of coffee with a straw sticking out of it.

The inmate himself was…impressive. His armored form was easily twice as wide as me and half again as tall. I was looking him in the eye though I was standing and he was sitting. The armored plates that covered his body looked worn and dented, as if they’d been poorly repaired. His eyes were slits in the metal mask but I could see his real eyes inside…and some of the terrible scar tissue surrounding them. I paused a moment, took a breath, then sat down across from him.

“Inmate #4466882, a.k.a. Total Violence,” I read calmly from his file. “For the last seven years you’ve been held here at the Zigg but you’ve had a series of other incarcerations at other facilities…all for three months or less.”

“No cable,” he said curtly.

“I beg your pardon?” His reply had taken me by surprise.

“No cable at those other joints,” he repeated. “That’s why I broke out.”

“Cable television makes you happy?”

“I like cartoons,” he smirked, at least it sounded like one. “Helps me keep my mind off of…things.”

“The cable here at the Zig must be good to keep you here for seven years,” I commented as I read through the file. “You’ve had a few…incidents…but your behavior has been better than at any time in your past.”

“If I behave, I get perks,” he said after leaning forward slowly and taking a sip of his coffee. “No fights for a month, more t.v. time. Three months, they let me out in the yard for an hour every day. At six months I get to use the weight room but I ain’t made it that long yet.”

“Tell me about your time with Doctor Fischer,” I prompted him. I didn’t want to be too intrusive too quickly but I felt the interview was going well so far.

“He was a quack,” he snorted. “Wanted to make a name for himself by cracking Public Enemy Number Six. Hours of talk, talk, talk. Then he took away my meds…that’s what set me off.”

“I don’t see any notes about altering your medication…” I commented as I flipped through the pages.

“That’s because he was a lying fucker!” he snapped. “He took me off stuff, put me on new stuff, all to get me to talk. If the Prison Board had found out he woulda been kicked out…so he kept it quiet. Six months of Hell for me, just to get me to spill my name.”

“It says here that he was having a session with you on the night he died,” I prompted gently.

“You mean he was dopin’ me up with his latest formula on the night I killed him? Yeah…pretty much. Before the drugs just made me loopy so I didn’t mind too much but this time…it burned. It burned like nothing you’ve ever felt in your life. I’ve been shot, stabbed, blown up…my right arm wound up in the gullet of some demon or another. Both my legs are metal because the real ones were broken by a fight with a giant. I never felt pain like that before. I broke out of the restraints and tore his fucking head off before the guards got in and put me under.”

“So, you only killed Fischer because he hurt you,” I said flatly. “It wasn’t some mad-dog attack with no rhyme or reason.”

“What difference does it make?” he asked before leaning forward for another long pull on his coffee.

“My goal is to find out why people kill. If you were as crazy as everyone says, you wouldn’t have needed a reason to kill Fischer…you would have killed him and not cared.”

He sighed, a great, heavy sigh, like some weight had been lifted from him. I was still looking at the file when he spoke again.

“Vittorio,” he said softly, “Anthony Vittorio. My friends called me Tony V. I was a mook working for the Family when…all of this happened.”

“Thank you, Mr. Vittorio,” I said gratefully. “Is there anyone you want me to contact for you? Do you have any family or friends on the outside you’d like to communicate with?”

“Nah…I’ll be seeing them soon enough,” he replied casually.

“Do you expect them to visit you in here?”

“No need…I’m getting out today.”

The steel of the manacles screamed in protest as he wrenched his hands free. The guards started to move but even restrained as he was, he was far too dangerous. The guard on the right died instantly as a fist penetrated his rib cage. The other hand snatched up the other guard and held him easily off the floor.

“Keys!” he demanded and the guard produced his keyring. “Unlock me!” The guard was dropped to the floor where he crawled to the leg restraints and unlocked them. During the entire scene I sat riveted in my chair…too frightened to move. Tony Vittorio, otherwise known as Total Violence, stood up from the steel block that served as a chair and flexed his arms and legs.

“Now…to get down to business,” he snarled as he turned towards the quivering guard.

“Wait! I’m with you!” the guard begged. “I was the one who juiced your coffee to get you out!”

“One problem with that,” Tony said as he picked up the guard and held him to his chest with one arm. “You make really shitty coffee!” With his other arm Tony bent the guard backwards slowly until he was nearly double. The screams didn’t quite drown out the sounds of his spine cracking.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I said simply. All my training, all my years of experience, and that was all I could think of to say.

“Don’t worry…you’re not on the menu today,” he replied as he dropped the guard’s still-twitching body. “You’ve got an important job…as a hostage. With you in front of me they won’t dare shoot. Once I get clear I’ll let you go.”

“Thank you…” I stammered but he cut me off harshly.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m doin’ you any favors. If I smell one thing goin’ wrong on the way out, I’ll tear off your arm and use it as a back-scratcher. If we get out, I want you to give the warden and the rest of the fuckheads at the Home Office a message: Kill me. Kill me and be done with it. Next time you got me in your sights don’t fap about trying to arrest me or reform me…pull the fucking trigger.”

“You…want to die?” I was stunned. I’d dealt with suicides before but none of them had been so…passionate about it.

“Look at me!” he shouted as he removed his mask. His face was a patchwork of scars and burns. “I’m in pain all the time! The meds take the edge off, but only just. I’m on the broken edge of a bottle every minute of every day! You wanna know why I kill? Because for just a little while it makes the pain stop…that’s why! I kill because it’s the only thing that makes me happy…the only thing I’m good for! So, we’re gonna leave and you’re gonna tell whoever you have to tell that I’m bug-nuts crazy. Tell ‘em I’m beyond hope. Tell ‘em whatever you gotta to make them understand.”

“I’ll tell them,” I said quietly, “and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t understand why…”

“I don’t need your pity,” he barked as he unlocked the door and pushed me into the hall. The sirens were already going off, indicating an escape. “Pity got me locked up for the last seven years, barely able to keep my head on straight. Now I’m out…free…and I’m gonna make people understand.”

“Understand what?” I asked as he led me down the hall with a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“I’m bad, lady…evil…rotten to the core,” he said bitterly. “You don’t cage evil…you don’t reform it. You find it and you kill it…period. You make ‘em understand, or I’ll go on a spree that’ll make Captain Mako look like a boy scout hunting badges.”

His plan worked, after a fashion. While all the guards were rushing to the perimeter of the prison, he led me deeper inside. We got to the Solitary wing and he coerced one of the guards to open one of the cells. I gasped as a tall figure stooped to duck under the door and then rose to his full height. He was taller than Tony, though whipcord thin, and with a head like a cross between a fish and a lizard. He looked down at me and smiled and I saw about a hundred narrow dagger-like teeth.

“How nice,” he said in a raspy voice, “you brought me a snack!”

“Hand off!” Tony said harshly. “She’s our ticket out.”

“I can get us out now,” the tall figure said as he craned his head towards the cell. “The runes in there kept me trapped but out here…I can take us anywhere.”

“Remember what I said, lady,” Tony said with a squeeze of my arm. “Next time, no arrest…no surrender. You put us down or we’ll just keep killing.”

The thin one laid his hand on Tony’s shoulder, muttered a few words I couldn’t understand and suddenly they were both gone. I sat down hard on the floor, right there in the hallway, and waited for the guards to show up. I told them the whole thing, just like he said, and demanded to speak with the warden. I have to make them understand that if they don’t put him down, Total Violence will live up to his name.

[Crysis]

I'm a history buff so a lot of my characters have backstories rooted in historical people, events or "alternate timeline" scenarios.

 

Here's what happened to the Pirate Anne Bonny....now a full T4'd Incarnate Fire/Storm/Dark Corruptor.

 

 

 

 

[Crysis]

Here's another historical alt timeline character, this time my "durty" Broadsword/Shield stalker, Revenant de Molay.

 

 

[Rampager]

[Heraclea]

The latest installment in my long standing quest to create very brief and high concept bios:

 

 

I am also extremely fond of historical references like Anne Bonny and Revenant De Molay.

Edited March 5, 2020 by Heraclea

[qwdfer]

erdf

Edited May 21, 2020 by Autoliberator

[qwdfer]

asd

Edited May 21, 2020 by Autoliberator

[Dynamo-Joe]

Okay - first off - before I get to my own bios, I have a few I want to pay tribute to from other people. These were all snapshots I made back before the game was shutdown in 2012. I had a little hobby of looking around me and checking the bios of people for notably good or amusing ones in down times while waiting for something else. Like during the recruitment period of a Task Force while waiting for the team lead to get enough people to join. 

 

Again - I want to STRESS. VERY CLEARLY. These are NOT MINE. I just liked them and got a screenshot of them. If you spot one of yours - feel free to take credit! Please! 

First - My late friend Rei, made this one. I think the references should be fairly obvious. And yes - this was a Sonic/Sonic Defender. 😄

 

Along a similar theme is this one: 
 

 

I think this mantra should be committed to memory by all! 😄

 

 

 

How very... Tim Burton-esque. 

 

 

 

 

 

That's enough spammage for now. I've got about 30-40 more of these. So this won't be my last tribute post. 😄

 

[Kallisti]

Welcome back to the Kallistiverse! My most recent level 50, the baffling Kallisti Fae!

 

 

Can't remember if I posted this before... Kallisti Green

 

 

Now on redside... Kallisti Purple

 

Edited April 2, 2020 by kallistiuk

[Drastic]

[Muppy]

This took awhile to get right since printscreen-and-paste-in-paint for me is... uh... delayed. It's ONLY happening with CoH. It's weird. ANYWAY, after some waiting I got these.


I think Mister Muppy could use some touch up work, but I'm mostly happy with Tina and Little Treat Machine.

[Cutter]

I've got a lot, but I'm quite a fan of this one.

[Cutter]

And who could forget this lovable cartoon action hero??