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A Motley Crew


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A Motley Crew--  Crazy Eights and Other Misfits, Charming Rascals, Troublemakers, Dreamers, and No-Good Punks

 

 

 

 

(( Every theme song will, if you open a tab with the magical Tubes of You and enter the mystic incantation "ArtistName SongName" into the search bar, give you music.  Some of this stuff is a little obscure, so YMMV if you look other places.  But every song was chosen because it gives insight into the character that I was unable to provide with my scribblings.  On with the show! ))

 

 

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HOODS

 

"You can't walk the straight path down a crooked road"  --old Russian proverb

 

 

Slum Gully

(SJ/Inv stalker, natural)

theme song:  Sick of it All-- Locomotive

 

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Slum Gully grew up in a rough section of the Gish in King's Row.  The cops were mostly corrupt or afraid, and gangs ruled the streets.  He started street fighting grown men around 12 years old, and started a youth gang called Crazy Eights soon after.  They specialized in sticking up dealers, and he would bring his share of the money home to his mom.  When she died (fairly young, from all the industrial pollution in the Row and at her job in a garment mill) Slum Gully went berserk.  He'd always had a rep for being tough and having a bad temper, but now his anger had overwhelmed any sense of self-preservation.  He couldn't stop thinking about how his mom had been afraid to walk down the street, to go to the park on a nice day.  Because of the gangs.  He started attacking them on sight, no mask or other attempt to hide his face, no checking if they had backup down the block.  He didn't expect to live long, and he didn't really care.  But he did live, and he started to make plans about how to REALLY hurt the gangs besides picking random goons off the sidewalk...  He even made a suit to hide his identity using a ski mask, biker jacket, steel toe boots and a lot of duct tape.

 

pCMVDYcV_o.jpg

 

"The only reason he's not in the Zig right now is a lot of cops privately agree with what he's doing, and the most of the rest are afraid of him.  He's a kidnapper, arsonist, and likely a serial killer."  --from a conversation between police detectives, around 6 months later

 

 

 

Gun Shy

(DP/SR sentinel, natural)

theme song:  Papoose-- Versace

 

BThTVirj_o.jpg  

 

Gun Shy was always a shooter.  At 6 he could hit anything with a bb gun, first try.  He grew up on Slum Gully's block, ran away from an orphanage and wound up there.  Once the Crazy Eights started he was Gully's right-hand man, showed him how to do stick-ups (he'd been doing them for a couple years before that).  He was also the reason most of the dealers they robbed would hand over the cash immediately--  Slum Gully could beat you senseless, but if Gun Shy shot at you that's all she wrote.  He got the name because, despite all the stickups, he really didn't want to hurt anybody.  If he could avoid shooting, he would.  After Slum Gully went crazy, he started robbing banks. 

 

He didn't get caught for several years, but eventually wound up in the Zig.  Arachnos pulled him out, and now he's in the Rogue Isles-- still robbing banks.  The weird thing is, he's a flashy dresser but doesn't seem to live an expensive life otherwise.  So why the banks?  Why always stealing money?  Maybe just for the thrill, that's definitely part of it.  The rumor is, he's a Robin Hood.  Not good to talk openly about it, the one guy who did went missing, understandable since being known as a Robin Hood is pretty much a death sentence in the Isles, but it's a fact more than one childrens' hospital and animal shelter in the Row has found a grocery bag full of cash in the office.

 

 

 

(( Slum Gully was the first character I made and is still my favorite, Gun Shy was also very early, they were the two I used to look at the storyline blue-side and red-side respectively.  I stopped playing Gun Shy in the mid-30s because I realized he had zero motivation to follow the story where it looked to him like it was headed--  growing in power and importance was only going to make him a target and so on.  A lot of the biographical details are taken from real people I've known, although the "impossibly good at fighting and shooting" stuff is obviously the realm of comic books, and I don't know of knowing any Robin Hoods but then again I wouldn't know if I actually did know one, you know?  Yeah yeah I know, I'll cut it out...  ))

 

(( No one's really sure how Slum Gully got his name, had it since he was a kid running wild.  Slumgullion refers to any hearty, filling, cheap stew eaten by the lower classes-- and he always liked to eat, didn't care about fancy.  "Gully" was slang popular a few years ago that means tough and street-wise, seems to have come from Hindi, and of course he grew up in a slum.  Those are the two best guesses anybody's got. ))

 

 

 

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STEAMPUNK

 

 

In the 1880's, in Praetorian-dimension England, a brilliant scientist made a number of discoveries.  One involved nuclear technology, but others still haven't been found in either Primal Earth or what you and I, gentle reader, think of as "the real world" and we therefore have no words for them.  One we DO have a word for, thanks to science fiction, is time travel.  The time travel apparatus constructed by our as-yet-unnamed scientist was enormously heavy and quite bulky, so the Time Voyager was a large zeppelin.  A happy side effect of this was a large cargo space for plunder, since the idea of the voyage was to journey to the near future and return with technology "liberated" from the natives.  Rather like the British Museum, but with distance in time instead of space and technology instead of art.

 

The scientist had achieved social status (including a peerage) and some wealth as a result of his discoveries, and maintained a small army of hirelings to advance and protect his various interests.  The most conspicuous among these, to the commoner, was the promotion of his patent "For a Healthy Glow" Atomic Tonic Water.  This served multiple aims-- profit, disposal of nuclear byproducts, and (he hoped) the glorification- or at least acceptance- of nuclear technology amongst the general public.  Two hirelings, both already celebrities before their employment by the scientist, were featured prominently in these promotions.  They starred in numerous penny dreadfuls, and even several illustrated pamphlets (mass-production made possible by another invention of our scientist) that were remarkably similar to what we call "comic books."  In these manuscripts they appear as Half Nelson and Collide O'Scope.

 

Returning our gaze to the ill-fated Time Voyager, the scientist decided that rather than sending it to future England, he would send it instead to the east coast of North America, where he thought development was accelerating the most rapidly.  He needed to launch the voyage over the sea, since travel through time raised the possibility of arriving inside a physical object which had appeared in that spot in the intervening years, and therefore sudden death.  The crew would need to be quite capable-- both to pilot the vessel, and then to successfully find and capture technological objects in what would likely be unfamiliar and treacherous circumstances.  The zeppelin was thus brought (with great secrecy, to avoid accounts in future history books and therefore warning) to Rhode Island, launched and piloted around half a mile over the ocean, and the time travel apparatus activated.  We currently know of three crew members:

 

 

Half Nelson

(Rad/SS tanker, science)

 

0wcdRwsV_o.jpg

 

"To achieve and maintain my physical prowess, I have for years followed a particular regimen.  I begin each day with 100 press-ups and 30 minutes of vigorous calisthenics, followed by a large glass of patent Atomic Tonic Water mixed with 2 raw eggs.  Atomic Tonic Water--  it'll make a man of you!"

 

Arthur "Half" Nelson was originally famous for his wrestling, bare-knuckle boxing and feats of strength.  He was working as a circus strongman when our scientist hired him.  Subjected for years to massive doses of what should have been lethal radiation as he took part in the scientist's experiments, he inexplicably seemed to actually GROW STRONGER from exposure to the harmful rays.  Possessed of truly awe-inspiring levels of stupidity, he is instinctively obedient to authority and eager to fight for its causes.  Believes deeply in the health benefits of radiation.  Actually drinks the tonic water.   

 

Always impossibly strong, he got his nickname during his early youth in a coal-mining town.  At his first day on his first job, he was put to work shoveling coal.  The job would take a dozen men around a week.  At lunchtime the foreman came by and asked jokingly "Well, young Arthur, have you finished yet?"  He nearly swallowed his pipe when a miserable Arthur replied "No, sir.  I'm barely half done, sir."

 

 

Collide O'Scope

(Beam/NRG sentinel, technology)

 

WARNING:  BLOOMERS!!!

EtCmDslt_o.jpg

 

"When I want a drink that really turns my screw, I start with a splash of Atomic Tonic Water.  The resulting cocktail makes absinthe look like chamomile tea."

 

Amy Collins came from the gutter.  She wasn't staying there, and she wasn't going to be a harlot, so she had to be clever and she had to be bold, and certainly couldn't afford scruples.  She committed a shocking number of crimes, starting from a young age, mostly thefts and petty swindles.  Never caught, although her compatriots often were...  By her late teenage years, she had worked her way into the social circles of the upper classes.  She may not have had pedigree, but she was charming and she was wild and no party was complete without Collide.  She was often mentioned in the Society columns of the London papers, and was given some singing and acting roles on the stage (where she was wildly popular, despite not being very good).

 

Our scientist hired her when he caught her stealing jewels from his home (where he had been experimenting with their light-refracting properties).  Video-scopes were completely unknown at that time (yet another invention) so she took no precautions to hide her identity once she'd slipped past the guards.  She was therefore quite surprised when the scientist appeared at her door the next day to ask for his jewels back, and even more surprised when he offered to employ her (for a rather large sum) as his chief of security.  She turned out to be enormously capable in many ways and was given use of the first prototype personal flight device and plasma cannon resulting from the scientist's research, both of which she displayed an immediate knack for using.  Captain of the Time Voyager and the leader of the doomed expedition.

 

 

The Brass Bastard

(Rad/Atomic blaster, science)

theme song:  Judy and the Jerks-- Cyclops Baby

 

S0CuWakF_o.jpg

 

Our un-named scientist had been reading old Greek mythology about automatons and the Cyclops, and thinking about how he could use a helper.  Of course he had many hirelings, but they were (apart from Half Nelson) so weak and fragile, and lately he was starting to worry about Nelson and didn't want to risk him further (since any sign of ill health from Nelson would be a public relations disaster).  He decided to construct a self-powered apparatus, a sort of golem, to help him in his research.  It would consist, fundamentally, of a small nuclear reactor with arms and legs, with a set of knobs and dials and other controls that allowed the scientist to program it for certain specific tasks.

 

The scientist was around 30 minutes from finishing the job, his mind drifting idly to thinking of a name, something classical and dignified, something from the mythology he'd been reading perhaps...  Suddenly, to his horror, the golem sat up from the work table (But how? It shouldn't be operational yet!) and roughly shoved him out of the way.  It lurched to the door of the nearby sitting room, wrenched it open, and paused to rip the entire array of dials and knobs and other controls off its back, flinging them onto the floor and stomping them to smithereens.  Entering the room, it gathered things-- a decanter of gin,  a container of rock salt, and a small bottle of boot polish-- and poured them all down its chimney spout.  A bluish flame shot up, setting fire to the curtains.  Standing in the sudden billows of evil-smelling black smoke, the contraption announced in a booming, hollow voice (But how does it speak?!  From where?!  How does it move on its own?! Is it ALIVE?!) that its name was The Brass Bastard.

 

2L2ISSBU_o.jpg 

It became clear over the following weeks that this golem, this construct, was evil.  Cunning, foul-mouthed, foul-tempered, many things... but definitely evil.  It spent the bulk of its time rearranging its own construction and the workings of its furnace, causing fires and explosions, and drawing genitalia on the richly-appointed walls of the scientist's home and laboratory.  The glow from its furnace, varying in color depending on what the Brass Bastard had put in it lately, illuminated many scenes that were lamentable indeed.  It does appear (albeit in greatly sanitized form as an amusingly uncouth, vulgar sidekick) in a small number of the afore-mentioned manuscripts, where it was called the Indecent Incandescent.  Historians speculate that the scientist constructed the Time Voyager as a way to be rid of the Brass Bastard, never intending the vessel to return.  But here we get ahead of ourselves... 

 

 

Returning, then, once again to the Time Voyager...  things went remarkably smoothly, at first.  The only sign of the shift in time, besides the noise of the time travel apparatus operating, was a sudden change in light and temperature.  Turning the zeppelin and heading back to shore, the towers of a city were immediately visible.  The crew would later learn it was called Praetoria...

 

 

 

(( When they land, Cole's goons commandeer the zeppelin.  The Brass Bastard heads straight underground, not wanting to be subject to experiments, and does the Crusader storyline.  Collide and Half know their only chance to return home is to gain status with Cole, maybe they can get the zeppelin back that way.  Collide does Power, Half does Loyalist.  I wanted to look at the different gold-side stories, this is what I came up with.  The Brass Bastard also wants to get back btw, but in his case it's so he can kill the scientist, plus there's a 12-foot-tall bronze statue, in the ancient greek style, nude male, that he wants to cut the uhh... bathing suit area off of so he can attach it to himself. ))

 

 

Edited by lepidopter
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CARTOON VILLAINS

 

 

Scrilla Gorilla

(Bio/SS tanker, science)

theme song:  Squire of Gothos-- Big Guy Now

 

cJlyTZOZ_o.jpg

 

If you looked carefully, you could actually see faint traces of blood circulation, glowing through the skin.  You didn't have to look carefully at all to see the clouds of stench.  When threatened, Scrilla Gorilla could flex and instantly develop a huge protective mass of new muscles... although this got messy when they swole and burst.

 

ggGUnLSl_o.jpg

 

 

Goons, just like athletes beyond a certain level, usually dope.  Steroids, human growth hormone, EPO, etc.  Adjustment of genetics, these days.  Luca Bravo was no different.  He was a big guy, he lifted weights, but he'd never be like the fancy supers and their stupid capes.  So when he met a doctor who'd been kicked out of med school during residency for unethical experiments, and that doctor said she had ideas about a revolutionary new approach to performance-enhancing substances, Luca didn't stop to ask questions.  He also didn't listen real carefully to the doctor's cursory explanation of possible side effects.  Life in the Capo (Cap au Diable) wasn't easy, and he could use every edge he could get.

 

Well he got that edge all right.  He couldn't believe the strength he had now, felt like he was in a comic book.  But he got other stuff, too.  Whatever the doc did, it made his heart work about twice as hard.  Sometimes he could barely hear himself think over the rush of blood, the hammering of his pulse.  His muscles were so big all of a sudden, it felt like his skin could barely hold them.  And his instincts...  he was never a real thoughtful guy, tended to do stuff on impulse, but this made being so drunk you could barely walk seem like being at church with grandma.  It's almost like he was an animal.  Which reminded him, he was having to shave more and more often now.  And so, over a couple weeks, Luca...  changed.

 

Scrilla Gorilla only dimly remembered his past life, usually.   His ability to think came and went, on the tides of his amped-up metabolism, like a radio station with fuzzy reception.  But he always remembered money.  Cash.  All the animal urges for food, shelter, sex and so on, for modern humans they can all get wrapped up in the urge for cash.  And Scrilla was all about animal urges, these days.  He didn't always remember WHY he wanted cash.  But he always wanted it.  He'd carry a duffel bag full of it or stuff all his pockets, he'd wad it up and use it for (increasingly smelly) bedding.  Sometimes he remembered he could exchange it for goods and services, sometimes going to a restaurant meant barging into the kitchen and sticking his hand into the different pots on the stove to see what was inside.  This was tolerated by most places, partly because when he DID pay it was cash by the handful, partly because there was no way to stop him.  You could usually, but not always, tell which Scrilla you were getting by looking at how he was dressed.  Nice suit, probably safe.  Just a pair of ripped pants, probably not.  Fortunately, so far he seemed to always be wearing at least some pants in public.

 

 

Pow Gong

(Kin Melee/NRG stalker, magic)

theme song:  Speed, Glue & Shinki-- Ode to the Bad People

 

pJ07JGwQ_o.jpg

 

The first thing almost everybody notices about Pow Gong is the third eye, open and staring, on his forehead.  The second thing is the way he moves, real calm and fluid like incense smoke drifting on the wind, but FAST.  The third thing is, he's a snazzy dresser and every single thing he wears makes it real obvious he's not from around here.  Even if it's, like, a leather jacket and some jeans, which ARE from around here.

 

Most people around the neighborhood think he's not Tsoo.  He's obviously a gangster, you don't have tattoos like that if you're not a gangster and anyway you don't need to see those to know what he is.  But not Tsoo, which is weird, because usually around here if there's an Asian gang it's the Tsoo.  No, nobody's going to ASK him, are you nuts?  YOU ask him, smart guy, see how it goes.

 

That's the other thing about Pow Gong, people are careful with him.  He's polite, he doesn't bother anybody, but nobody bothers him either you know?  In this neighborhood that means something.  You know what this place is like, and none of the local hitters want to even look sideways at him.  Some of them are real stupid too, right, so whatever warning signs he's giving out are real clear. 

 

...Yeah, he's here because he was in the Zig.  Arachnos did a jailbreak and he came along.  Maybe he was the reason they did the break in the first place, who knows.  And you know that ninja guy?  Yeah, the Tsoo one who sneaks in sometimes, the guy they send in.  Well, when he saw Pow Gong he kinda got all stiff and formal, nobody's ever seen him anything like that.  Scared, mad or both.  But CAREFUL.  Real polite.  Heard it from Left Side Louie, he was in the yard when it happened.  That's one reason we don't think he's Tsoo, but there's some other ones.

 

...Well, we think maybe Taiwan, because some stuff he wears is real Japanese and some stuff is real Chinese, and this one guy sez the only place where you're likely to see both is Taiwan cuz of the history.  But I say who knows, because I mean kids from around here wear Japanese stuff, right?  That Pokimong stuff, that's Japanese right?

 

 

Big Pygmy

(Plant/Savage dominator, magic)

theme song:  Sissy Nobby-- Snake

 

SYDZy3Cj_o.png

 

Okay, I know you been away and I'm catching you up, talk about who's new in the neighborhood, but this guy I really don't want to even TALK about.  Yeah.  That scary.

 

...Yeah, he DOES have me spooked.  You known me a long time, you see me get spooked much?  Well, now I'm spooked.  So maybe listen and learn, wise guy...  Uh huh, he was in the joint with Left Side Louie, that's how I know this stuff.

 

dI3c7xZR_o.jpg 

 

Alright so this guy Big Pygmy, maybe four feet tall, nobody knows his real name, even the jail didn't have his real name, we see that with voodoo where knowing a name gives power but we don't think this guy is voodoo exactly.  We know he does magic, and Louie sez its the kind with like shrinking heads and cooking people in a pot and stuff.  He'd do it in his cell sometimes, little pieces of it, they got everybody on that medicine stops magic from working but somehow he could do little parts of it anyway, sometimes.

 

He ate a guy's heart once, Louie said.  After he shanked the guy he stayed in the cell, cut out his heart, brought it back to HIS cell, and ate it raw.  To gain the other guy's strength and all that stuff.  Yeah.  Didn't get caught, washed all the blood somehow.  Like I said, little bits of magic.

 

Okay, but why I'm scared, sure he's a psycho but he's got those elegant hands.  You know the type, real proper fancy speech, and those careful, elegant, soft hand gestures...  yeah, one of those.  See, now you get why I'm spooked.

 

 

 

     

Edited by lepidopter
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CLOWNS

 

 

Balloons

(NRG/Ninja stalker, magic)

theme song:  Gerty Farish-- I'm A Bad Receptionist

 

gIncmy8z_o.jpg

 

Arvid Lyssos is the world's foremost balloon artist, and also a true master of the bubble wand.  This, of course, sounds rather silly.  To understand Arvid's genius, one must see him perform.  It is as if the world's greatest modern sculptor works exclusively with inflated latex and ephemeral, iridescent bubbles of soap.  He transports onlookers into a world of magic and wonder.  Of course you, gentle reader, won't believe a word of this, thinking me credulous or easily awed.  I would think the same, had I not beheld the marvel with my own eyes.  (No he's not standing behind me while I type this!  What makes you think that?!)  Arvid has a plan:

 

"Of course there is a horrible problem with youth crime.  So many young people grow up surrounded by cultural DRIVEL, by ROT.  It is far, far worse than emptiness.  In emptiness their own natural artistic genius could be heard, could save them, lead them away from evil.  But it is drowned out by this HORROR with a smiling, empty face, offering false promises of friendship and belonging.  So I, Arvid, will attempt to rescue these poor souls.  They are unhappy, overwhelmed by sorrow, and in their grief they inflict sorrow on others.  I will give them a chance to rediscover their natural joy by SURPRISING them with BALLOONS!  If they can find the joy that has always been hiding dormant within them, they will put down their childish skull masks and drugs.  All I can give them is a chance, one moment, it is theirs to take."

 

How's the plan going, you ask?  We have word from Arvid, live and in the field!  Let's listen in, shall we?  "Don't you like your balloons? No? Okay, let's do balloon sculpture!  Look, if you twist THIS and push HERE and then HIT HIT HIT HIT it looks just like a dead crook, see?"  I should mention at this point that Arvid, like most great artists, can be... temperamental.  If you ever have the good fortune to meet him, there are 3 things it is very important to remember:

 

1.  Express appreciation, even delight, at his balloon artistry.  This one should be easy, his work is truly sublime.

2.  DO NOT mention his shoes.  If, however, he sees you looking at them, BE COMPLIMENTARY.  Compliment the leather or workmanship, but do not call them shiny (glossy is acceptable but risky) and under NO circumstances point out that they appear to be grossly oversized.    

3.  We'll let Arvid explain this one:

 

"Well you see, Your Honor, I really had no choice.  He called me...  he called me a...  a CLOWN.   Balloon artistry is a respectable profession, with a long and noble history.  I might, in the course of my work, occasionally perform a merry jape or even a pratfall.  But to confuse me with a low, common, vulgar, stinking, louse-ridden CLOWN...  it's truly unforgivable.  Disgusting!  Let's just say I made ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN he will NEVER AGAIN make such a silly mistake!"

 

"I'm not surprised, Your Honor, to hear he hasn't been seen since our little chat.  He mentioned leaving the country because he was so ashamed over his mistake, notions of sailing away to join the French Foreign Legion.  Of course, I did hear a sailor down at the docks say something that sounded like 'Ye gods!  If they want to recover THAT body they're going to need a wet/dry shopvac!' but you know how colorful sailor talk is, and how wild their imaginations are...  Full of stories about sea monsters and murderous clowns, ha ha."

 

So yeah, probably don't call him a clown.  This is getting somewhat lengthy, but I don't want to leave people with the impression that Arvid is creepy or dangerous or evil or anything like that!  So, time for one more inspirational message:

 

"My job is to give balloons air, to help them BREATHE.  When one of my balloons breathes in air, it makes people happy.  It makes the world a better place.  When YOU breathe in air, it does not make the world a better place.  It does not make anyone happy, not even you.  My job is NOT to help YOU breathe.  Stop stealing air from my balloons!  I'll help you stop!"

 

Well, I think that's pretty reassuring.

 

 

Fool the Clown

(Mind/Dark dominator, magic)

theme song:  Electric Eels-- Accident

 

XyjX8Dr5_o.jpg

 

"What was done to poor Eugene Banks is an outrage!  Artists have always been persecuted, but this goes too far!  We were colleagues for many years, at Childe's Jolly Japes and Jongleurs, but I also consider him a close friend.  I visited him often at the "Zig" as it's named in the common vernacular, until he managed to fly the coop, and his weasels seem quite happy living in my garden--  of course I bring them their special cakes for tea each day--  but nevertheless, the whole sordid affair is simply barbaric.  For one of the world's finest troubadours to be thrown in the gaol like a common criminal...  he's calling himself a CLOWN now, you know.  That should be a very clear warning to anyone with the slightest bit of common sense, which of course does not include the judge who sent him away or the so-called 'civilized' society that allowed it.  I would NOT like to be in their shoes..."  --Arvid 'Balloons' Lyssos

 

Okay, one more guy you should know about, I think you're gonna like hearing about this one, it's a pretty good story.  This guy seems like a good fella.

 

So this guy Geno Banks, forget you heard that name, he's called Fool... Fool the Clown.  He shanked maybe 6 or 7 guys in the Zig-- told you he was a good fella-- and a couple times it was for calling him his government name.  So anyway this guy is a clown but it's like a HISTORY clown from the old days with kings and stuff, not even a jester but it's some old-fashioned word sounds like juggler.  Jongler?  Real fancy gig, does his act for like professors and rich folks.  Sounds boring, right?  Well, he did some of the act in the Zig, and talked about some of the other parts he couldn't do in there, and Left Side Louie said it was kinda like the 3 Stooges but a lot wilder.  He would sneak up behind rich guys and pour a bowl of pudding in their pants, stuff like that.  Had a sack full of weasels he would bring, trained them to be part of the act. 

 

So anyway how he winds up in the Zig, he does this puppet show.  Little wooden theater, real fancy crowd like I said.  It's pretty dark in there, but the puppets look weird.  Also there's this like, moaning and wailing you can sorta hear behind the puppet voices, but the show is like a morbid Edgar Allen Poe type thing so people think it's all part of the act.  Well, that's actually kinda true, but anyhow eventually the head falls off one of the puppets and you can see blood and guts, right?  Turns out the puppets are made of human bodies, and some of them ain't dead yet and that's the moaning, and some of them been dead a long time.  He used undertaker stuff on those ones, for the smell.  So he wouldn't spoil the surprise, he said.  So everybody screams and starts running for the exits, but it turns out he nailed those shut.  And THEN it turns out he rigged the place to go up in flames when people tried the exit doors.  So there's a panic, and the place is on fire and there's corpses all over the stage except some of them ain't dead.  And he's standing there in the middle of the whole thing, just laughing.  Somebody finds a window backstage to kick out, and everybody jumps--  not a big drop--  and I don't think anybody from the audience actually died.  Pretty good joke, right?  So that's why he was in the Zig.

 

Louie sez he's a good fella, real funny too, just don't step on his toes, trouble is you gotta watch your step because you don't always know where his toes are.  Well THAT makes me think of good old Spiral-Cut Sal, who this whole story sorta reminds me of anyhow.      

 

 

Edited by lepidopter
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Well, noble reader, I think perhaps you'll agree with me that the clowns got a little unsettling.  It's time, then, for something more wholesome and comforting, like...

 

 

DEVIL MAGIC

 

 

Hex Jubilee

(Savage/Fire brute, magic)

theme song:  Darkthrone-- In the Shadow of the Horns

 

pu9BMdx3_o.jpg

 

To understand Hex Jubilee, it's necessary to consider the Old Ways, insofar as we still know about them.  This likely isn't far, but clues do remain, here and there...  "Hex" can mean black magic or witchcraft.  "Jubilee" was once a term for an every-50-year event when slaves were freed and fields were left fallow.  The name Hex Jubilee could be read, then, as follows--

 

Mankind shall be freed from slavery, and the natural world freed from the yoke, by means of devil magic.

 

In the case of this...  let's use the word "person"...  named Hex Jubilee, that is the correct reading.  Well then, what is meant by the term devil magic?  Who, if you ask Hex Jubilee, is the Devil?  Hex Jubilee would tell you that the answer is complicated, but that briefly it was not the Devil who was driven out of heaven.  He would tell you that the name of Lucifer was substituted for other names in certain stories that were well-known at one time, and therefore couldn't be completely covered up in the old writings.  He would continue by saying that most so-called "devil worshippers" truly disgusted him, although he did pity them, because they not only believed the childish propaganda they'd been fed but took the side of the villain in the tawdry puppetshow.  He would say that what he means by the misleading phrase "devil magic" is the invocation of Lucifer son of the morning, which is itself metaphysical, and more an allegory than a statement of plain fact.

 

What else can be said about Hex Jubilee, to further our understanding?  Well, given the unusual point of view he communicates, and the fact that he is 8 feet tall, one is inevitably reminded of old stories about the Nephilim.  Clues do remain, here and there...

 

One last thing that could shed light is the English saying "There's no roses without muck."  Hex Jubilee sees this as an important commentary on the urban squalor he was born in, and where he continues to live.  The soil buried alive under asphalt, the quiet misery of the people stuck in their concrete beehives...  necessary preconditions to the blossoming of the glorious flowers produced by arson. 

 

 

Spoils

(DarkMelee/Shield scrapper, magic)

theme song:  Razor-- The Marshall Arts

 

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"I know you been speaking with Hex Jubilee.  You don't understand how dangerous that was, do you.  If he ever decides to, he will put both hands (notice how he always keeps them wrapped in barb wire?) through the layers of skin fat and muscle and pull out two handfuls of your intestines.  While you're on fire.  So, you have a nice little talk?  

 

He gave you hints so you could feel smart figuring out Lucifer was the real God and the Devil won a power struggle in heaven, kicked him out, and then blamed him for everything, right?  Of course he did.  I can see from the look on your face you hadn't put the pieces together yet, but either you woulda or somehow you'd just happen to stumble across more clues...

 

Why he did that is the same reason you're bothering ME right now and your head is still attached to your neck.  We know this is getting written down.  Even better, the poor sap doing the writing thinks he's imagining the whole thing.  We LIKE bread crumb trails to other places, ok?  Music makes it across somehow, maybe something about radio waves, but however it works it doesn't leave a path we can trace back.  Writing about US, on the other hand...

 

Since you're here and I'm stuck looking at you, I might as well tell you a couple things.  The hints Hex gave you about how really we're good and just misunderstood...  yeah you were supposed to pick that up too, sheesh you really aren't the sharpest ritual blade on the altar...  well, in a word, balls.  Good/Evil is the wrong axis anyways, if you want to understand us you need to look at Wild/Tame.  Of course most humans tend to conflate those two, big mistake.  The thing about God and the Devil, the trick is there's no God gonna use WORDS but many Devils, and sometimes one of those Devils finds God a useful name to use.  Like one of your best authors said, 'One burning bush looks pretty much like another.'

 

One last thing, and then this should be enough writing about us to complete the mystic circuit and open a path, Hex Jubilee actually told you the truth about devil worshippers he just let you get the wrong idea WHY.  We hate most of them because they're lame.  Sometimes me and Hex sit and drink gasoline (shame you went to unleaded, you can put the additive but it's not the same) and have a 'who saw the biggest loser trying to worship the Dark Ones' contest and we both piss ourselves laughing every time.  Some of them wear really weird underwear and keep really embarrassing diaries, trust me.  Awright that's enough, leave before I kill you."      --Spoils    

 

 

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Edited by lepidopter
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AFTER THE BOMB

 

 

Ginsu Rain

(Kat/Rad scrapper, mutation)

theme song:  Voivod-- Overreaction

 

 

(( The hockey mask is bugged, it's white but it keeps turning the color you see here, no I haven't filed a bug report I keep forgetting ))

 

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(( This is proving difficult to write, probably because I find the post-apoc urban setting so fascinating.  Going to leave a framework both to remind me and to let YOU, gentle reader, know whats up.  So this guy is Givaud Crane, people called him G-Vo.  When they were alive.  Big city, Great Lakes, local nuclear plants go BOOM and nobody knows why, or if there were bombs too.  Power and water out long-term, no help from outside, you can't see city lights on the horizon at night so whatever happened it looks big.  Nobody can find a working radio, cell phones all dead including satellite, EMP pulse maybe.  People are mostly still alive, so things turn into a nightmarish meatgrinder fast.  G-Vo survives and keeps what he considers his community safe because he's REAL NICE WITH A SWORD and if he suddenly drops into a crowd of 30 armed looters going door-to-door, he can scatter them.  This works, barely, until the Ginsu Rain starts.  Rain like knives.  Nobody knows what's in the fallout clouds overhead, but this rain cuts the skin.  Rains for weeks, eventually kills almost everyone.  G-Vo journeys out of the urban wasteland, hits the fringes where gas stations still work and there's power sometimes and the grocery stores have food.  Buys a car with currency he scavenged, IT'S A NICE CAR IT LOOKS SO MEAN, puts all his things in it, and drives to Paragon City.  Turns out he can't get away from the Ginsu Rain that easy, because it changed him, he carries it with him now... ))

 

 

 

Fountainheavy

(NRG/NRG blaster, mutation)

theme song:  Coughs-- Colors and the Way They Make You Feel

 

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In India, you can find parts of the landscape--  hills, ponds, etc--  that are said to be the direct physical result of the actions of a god.  You can also find, in ancient Hindu manuscripts, surprisingly precise descriptions of what we would understand as nuclear warfare.  So that the fringe cult believed nuclear bombs, radiation, fallout were sacred-- the divine, albeit terrible, breath of a god-- was not as completely unexpected as you might think.  This is not to say they were tolerated, which is why so many of them had immigrated to the San Francisco Bay area.  Several members of the cult were enormously wealthy.  This fact greatly aided the immigration process and explained why a large apartment tower was occupied almost exclusively by the sect.  They created a garden on the roof and numerous hydroponic gardens on parts of lower floors, and devoted a large section to a temple.  Here they lived a communal life with surprisingly few connections to the outside world.

 

Around this time, the child who would be known as Fountainheavy-- the Atom Flood--  was born.  He never showed any attempt to speak, and it was unclear how well he understood the speech of others, but he displayed an uncanny ability to perform the various yogic disciplines and spiritual focusing exercises practiced by the temple.

 

When the bombs dropped, the prophecies and teachings of the cult were immediately vindicated.  The waters rose to the 9th floor of their tower, but soon dropped to the 4th.  This left them plenty of room for living and for their gardens.  The slight lean of the tower was angled in such a way that the lower-floor gardens got enough sun.  The radiation had killed every human for miles around them, but they remained quite healthy under geiger counter readings that would floor an elephant.  The tower was beautiful, with hanging gardens and climbing flowery vines, only birdsong and the faint noise of ritual chanting and prayers from the temple to be heard, the unnaturally golden light of the sun shining off what windows had remained intact in the nuclear blasts and illuminating the calm, relatively shallow sea by which they were now surrounded.

 

Fountainheavy underwent numerous, sudden changes.  Over the course of only a few weeks, his body to grew to normal adult size, and then continued growing.  His third eye opened.  When performing the temple yoga and meditations, he manifested visible physical forces capable of crumpling concrete walls, or punching holes in them.

 

The swami of the temple, trying to convince himself that he spoke from religious conviction rather than fear of the terrifyingly overgrown and spiritually precocious child, pronounced that it was time for Fountainheavy to go forth, spread word of the temple and its teachings, and seek knowledge.  He was taken to the edge of the shallow sea in a rowboat and taught how to scavenge food and drink from ruined and abandoned grocery stores.  Carrying all his simple possessions and several bundles of religious pamphlets in a brightly-colored school backpack, he set forth on a journey that would bring him, much later, to the unfamiliar world of Paragon City.

 

 

 

Edited by lepidopter
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REVOLVERS AND SEMI-AUTOS

 

 

Rig Turner

(DP/Devices blaster, technology)

theme song:  Yellowman-- Duppy or Gunman

 

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((  Praetorian native, Resistance, Warden faction.  Nobody really knows anything about him.  The top 2 outfits are street clothes, I wanted to give a sense of coming from another world with its own fashion.  Middle 2 are tech camouflage suits of different types, provide the near-invis from Devices.  Bottom 2 are a lower-tech Resistance tunnel camo, works sort of like the old Hypercolor from our world, nothing like invis but much better at fooling the eye in the visual environment of the Praetorian Underground than traditional camo. ))

 

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(( I wanted the guns to look like they couldn't come from here, but also not be full-fledged science fiction. ))

 

 

Mag Pull

(DP/Kin corrupter, science)

theme song:  Sir Lord Baltimore-- Lady of Fire

 

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INTERPOL DOSSIER #4387

name:  Mag Pull

born:  Magrid Pulovda

citizenship:  Russian/Israeli dual citizen

known powers:  Kinetics

notes:

 

Born in Russia, moved with her family to Israel at a young age, recruited by the Mossad during her teenage years.  Initially this was because of her beauty, but they soon realized she was an excellent shot with a pistol (winning several target-shooting competitions) and a fearless (albeit reckless) pilot of cars, motorcycles, boats, airplanes etc.  Was given full training as an operative.  Activities unknown during this time, but it appears likely she was responsible for at least 3 murders in her private life (protected because of her Mossad status?).

 

Developed her kinetic powers during an attempt to kidnap a scientist who was known to study gravitational and other forces, and believed to be working on ways to weaponize them.  While climbing through a sort of gravitational equivalent of a wind tunnel, she was discovered and the tunnel was turned on full blast.  Her current powers are the result.  She escaped from the tunnel, captured the scientist and as many of the high-tech weapon prototypes as she could carry, and disappeared.  The preceding information was recorded by surveillance cameras in the lab.  What follows is mostly conjecture.

 

She did not return to the Mossad, or hand over the scientist and his weapons.  These latter items (including the scientist) were, according to rumor, sold on the black market, although this is uncertain and in any case the buyer(s) are unknown.  She then dropped out of sight completely, although she was briefly spotted around a year later working for a notorious South American dictator.  Subsequent whereabouts and activities unknown, suspected of appearing in costume since she is wanted by the Mossad and likely other organizations as well.  Should be considered armed and extremely dangerous.

 

 

Neon Go

(DP/Martial blaster, magic)

theme song:  Melt Banana-- Free the Bee

 

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So there's one more person you oughta know about, this one's a young lady.  I'm gonna quote something from a BOOK, ready?  Here goes... "The clothes said she had money, but that someone would make it worth your ass if you tried to get it."  Pretty good, huh?  Well, this young lady is connected HEAVY somehow.  Maude says the clothes are all designer, sunglasses worth a lotta stacks you know?  I think she's a gangster princess, right, like her daddy is some kinda kingpin.  You can tell from how she acts, heedless, like she just KNOWS nothing gonna happen to her no matter what she does.  Don't get me wrong, she can take care of herself pretty good, Mickey said if you try to put the moves on her, she will kick your balls so far up into your body you'll need a box of tissues and a half hour to get em out of your sinuses.  I don't know about that, but he WAS walking pretty funny when he told me.  And she did this thing to Vinny called a Key Push, didn't look like much but it knocked him back like he was light as a feather, had to be 20 feet back and over the boat railing and into the drink.  Talk about making a big splash...  Which, yeah we all laughed our heads off when we saw it, but you know how big Vinny is, this Key Push thing is no joke.  Still, she don't take care of herself THAT good to be carrying on the way she does.

 

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So first Pow Gong shows up and now this young lady, and you can tell they know each other from before.  Pow Gong, nobody messes with him right?  Well, she teases him, schoolgirl stuff.  She will steal food from his plate, take the hat off his head, stuff like that.  And they will talk for hours and it seems like they're having a real good time because they laugh a lot and get pretty loud, can't tell what they're saying because the whole thing's not in English even though they both speak it, before this nobody saw Pow Gong even smile.  Maude says they're not an item, she says you can tell from how they stand next to each other, and Maude's almost always right about stuff like that.  But Pow Gong seems real happy to have somebody who he can be himself around, so I think that's nice.

 

Here's what else I think.  If this young lady really is a princess (and she is, she's the kinda crazy you only see if they're born into the life) why is she here?  Well, she showed up alone, no bodyguards.  No way her daddy wants her here, and NO chance he lets her go anywhere without protection.  So she ran away, see life a little, you know how protective kingpins can get.  Why here, well we got that music, that wildstyle stuff, right?  She's at all them clubs a lot, that's where Mickey tried to put the moves on her.  Can't see why else she'd choose here of all places, except it's probably about as far from daddy as you can get.  So, big coincidence Pow Gong's already here, right?  I think the kingpin sent him.  I think the kingpin found out his daughter was gonna split, found out where, and sent Pow Gong here ahead of time.  Why the Zig and all that, for cover, so the young lady don't think daddy sent a bodyguard.         

 

 

Spook Horse

(DP/Temporal blaster, magic)

 

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Back in the Wild West, there was a legend about a terrifying horse sent from the netherworld, seen only at night.  Different native tribes had different names for it, and different explanations for exactly how it managed to kill men without leaving any marks on them, but the legend existed across hundreds of miles.  The cowboys called it the Spook Horse.

 

There was an outlaw, his name long-forgotten now, who was about as feared as an outlaw could be.  Dead-eye shot with a revolver, a braggart, mean when he got to drinking, but nobody could say they'd ever seen him afraid.  One night he was playing cards with other rough characters in a little shack far from town, but not far from blackout drunk.  There was an eerie noise outside the door, a sort of unearthly scream that didn't sound human.  One of the hard cases turned pale.  "It's the Spook Horse!" he whispered.  The outlaw laughed.  Another hard case stared at him.  "Shhh!  You don't want it to hear you!"

 

"Hell!" the outlaw said, "I'll ride the damn thing."  Before anybody could stop him, he'd kicked open the door and strode bow-legged out into the night.  The hard cases looked at each other, hid under the table, and waited for the gruesome sounds of supernatural death.  Instead they heard drunken cursing, a sort of scuffle, and the sound of increasingly distant hoofbeats.  The bravest of them peeked cautiously around the doorframe, just in time to see the Spook Horse galloping over the horizon with the outlaw clinging to its back.

 

Nobody expected to see the outlaw again, but the next night they did.  Best not to speculate where the Spook Horse took him, because all the flesh was gone from his bones and his empty eye sockets glowed with a strange light.  They only knew it was him because the clothes and hat were the same--  but they'd been brand new and now they were worn, faded and threadbare.

 

For years after that, every so often the outlaw would be seen at night.  Sometimes riding the horse, sometimes not.  But just like with the horse, men would be found dead without a mark on them to explain what happened.  Nobody knew where the outlaw now known as Spook Horse went when he wasn't roaming the Wild West night.  He didn't seem to move through time and space the same way normal men do.  But wherever it was, everybody sure hoped he'd stay there.

 

 

 

Edited by lepidopter
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MISCELLANY

 

 

(( I'm going to need this page for at least one more character, which is actually the 2nd one I ever made but I still don't really have an origin story sorted out, I'm honestly leaning towards "Gypsy casts a spell on a pigeon" which shows I'm sorta spinning my wheels and also why would the gypsy do that, pigeons aren't loud enough to wake up drunk people for one thing, plus how could you tell which one did it, usually I just naturally think of this stuff while I'm in the character creator ))

 

(( For now this is going to be a space for notes, which I realize is self-indulgent but c'mon so is this whole thing.  Like I said, for most of my life this would be going in a notebook but it felt easier to type it out and then print it, jeez it feels so modern ))

 

(( Ok that's probably enough double parentheses, just imagine the rest, this is all outta character on this page for now ))

 

(( ))

 

No more, I swear.  So anyway, it feels surprisingly good to get that stuff written down, I'd been keeping most of it in my head for a month or two now.  Didn't want to forget it.  Now I can think about important stuff, like how I wish there was a group called Bell Biv DEVO doing new wave versions of late 80's and early 90's R&B hits.  Anyhow, on that note (the getting stuff written down one) I think there's only one more thing, which isn't in here yet because the character it's for isn't finished, can't get the costume right.  That thing is "(Name's) Laugh Riot, The Cheapest Clowns in Town."  It's for my clown-flavor tribute to Reid Fleming World's Toughest Milkman, it's the only place willing to hire a guy and having a job is a condition of his parole.  Hilarity ensues!  Well, it does once I get the costume worked out.

 

 

The first actual NOTE, like I said this was gonna be for, is about the weasels.  Thing one, and this is VERY important, the Garden Weasel is my all-time favorite infomercial, so I was really happy having the weasels live in a garden worked out so naturally.  I actually didn't even notice for a while after I wrote it.  Thing two, it's pretty obvious Balloons isn't going to stay hero-side for long right?  So who takes care of the weasels then?  Don't worry, he thought of that, his very reliable niece Loyola will take over in the event of his incarceration or escape.  She knows how to make the special cakes, too.  "Remember, young Loyola, the liver makes their noses quiver!"

 

 

I feel like I'm still using the voice of my anonymous narrator sometimes here, the one where you only hear his part of the conversation.  Do I talk like him or does he talk like me?  One hand clapping...  Which is what I decided NOT to name Pow Gong because I realized, in these intellectually troubled times, I would probably have to explain why it wasn't an off-color joke.  Anyway, I sort of apologize for the narrator's limited vocabulary, but to be fair there's probably at least a 50% chance he thinks a "vocabulary" is a fancy piece of luggage for carrying hats, and maybe another 10% he thinks it's a certain room in a church.

 

 

Okay, here's the juicy one.  Stop reading if it starts to bother you, I almost certainly would if I wasn't the one who wrote it.  Although I only wrote it accidentally.  Anyway, the doctor Luca Bravo meets, the unethical one who gives him the Gorilla Juice, I wanted to make it pretty clear that was Dr. Shelley Percey, right?  I like the idea of seeing what kind of immoral trouble she causes when she's not running the story arc, but let's think about this briefly.  How does Luca meet Shelley?  Under what circumstances do they actually have a conversation?  Especially the kind Luca remembers?  That's probably not even an at-the-bar conversation, not for those two.  Right?

 

So, next thing to consider, then.  Dr. Shelley Percey chooses this particular goon to Gorilla Juice, right?  The one she's having, umm, conversations with.  INTIMATE conversations, from the sounds of it.  Okay, why does she choose this one?  It can't just be opportunity.  There are goons all over the place, and she has some working relationship with Aeon so it'd be easy to have one kidnapped and stuck in a lab for observation.  So, only reason she'd choose THIS goon is so she could observe the whole process very VERY closely, right?  The gradual change from human to gorilla?  The increased bloodflow, the engorged muscles, the impossible-to-ignore instincts, are we keeping all those details in mind here?  Was Shelley?

 

So, for how long did Dr. Shelley Percey continue her very personal research into this matter?  Did she, in fact, ever abandon it?

 

 

I forgot one, because I was sorta troubled I accidentally wrote the above angle into Scrilla Gorilla.  I mean, does my subconscious ERP???  Probably not, but yeesh.  Anyway, for this next one I'm bring back the double parentheses!  Just like Rig Turner and bringing back Hypercolor clothes.

 

(( Okay, Big Pygmy and the "elegant hands" thing that scares our narrator.  The hands thing is very real.  I saw it mentioned in a Spenser detective novel once, assassin the mob brings in, thought it actually sounded plausible.  I know people watch a lot of movies, most of the stuff they put in there is super fake and then sometimes something real.  So, if you've seen something like this in a movie, 99% chance it's got you barking up the wrong tree. ))

 

(( If you want to see what I'm talking about, look at Stu Grimson.  Yeah, the hockey player, the Grim Reaper.  Don't watch video of his fights, check out his broadcasting career.  Watch the way he sits, the way he moves his hands, listen to the way he speaks.  You'll understand what I mean right away.  I forget how to link stuff, but if you put the words "Stu Grimson chats about The Grim Reaper" into the youtubes, that's the clearest example. ))

 

 

(( There's one more thing connected to Big Pygmy, which I really REALLY don't want to talk about, but probably need to... ))

 

(( So lately our corporate overlords have found it convenient to focus on certain types of racism, and along with that comes a lot of well-meaning nonsense.  Maybe if somebody decides they're really offended I'll talk at length about why I absolutely don't think this character is inappropriate, but not in this thread.  Couple points, though.  Yeah, Big Pygmy has dark skin.  Yeah, he actually is evil in some ways that lots of real people were accused of being, back in colonial days.  So?

 

Big Pygmy isn't of African or Aboriginal Australian descent.  Look up the Orang Asli, or the Kunlun.  Then ask yourself, would this be a problem for you if Big Pygmy was Ainu and was named Fish Thief?  If the answer is no, why not?  Do you think it's possible to talk about an individual without that being a commentary on every other person who shares the same (perceived) skin color?  If the answer is no, how dare you call anyone else racist?  And so on.

 

Since "reinforcing stereotypes" is the only face-saving way to respond to any of the above, let's notice that I don't seem to write heroes.  So, if I write a character, they'll usually wind up having troublesome aspects to their uhhh character.  Stuff like robbing banks, or wanton indiscriminate violence, or attempts at vigilante justice that will sooner or later harm the innocent if they haven't already...  or headhunting and cannibalism.  Does this mean I should practice RACIAL SEGREGATION on my character roster?

 

Well, if you really think so, tell the mods, but I already did!  First thing I did after I dropped in the Big Pygmy pictures was report my own post and ask if I needed to wield the scissors of censorship.  Current word is, nope. ))

 

 

Ugh.  Sorry about that, gentle reader.  To try and cheer things up, here's another of Arvid Balloons Lyssos' rhyming reminders regarding the recipe for the weasels' special cakes.  "Remember, young Loyola, the wine makes their coats shine!"

 

 

New feature!  Question and answer time!

 

Q.  You said Eugene Banks used "undertaker stuff" to cover the smell of long-dead corpses?  Surely that wouldn't really work?

A.  Shut up.  I don't know, maybe, probably not.  Do undertakers ever use glue or varnish?  I was thinking a nice thick coat of that.

 

Q.  The apartment tower the nuclear cult lives in, surrounded by a shallow sea.  You said the only sound to be heard was birdsong and religious chanting.  What about the gentle lapping of waves on concrete?  That sounds nice.

A.  Yeah I thought so too but it was gonna make the sentence messy.  Well, messier than my sentences are already.

 

Q.  About the birdsong, you said the geiger counter readings would floor an elephant.  How are birds living there?

A.  Shut up.  I don't know, isn't there a lot of wildlife around Chernobyl?

 

Q.  So birds yes, elephants no?

A.  Shut up.

 

 

So I actually have a real urge to do a full machinima music video with Scrilla Gorilla and that Squire of Gothos song, sneak in the skull rave for footage and everything.  Pretty sure I'd need a better computer, so you're all safe for now.

 

 

Okay good news, I've gotten vague assurances (from, well...  me) that the questions will be less RUDE this time and so we're going to give the question and answer thing another shot!

 

Q.  Now that you actually FINISHED WRITING the Neon Go story, sheesh the rough draft was pitiful, there's a question...

A.  HEY, I thought the questions weren't going to be rude, this is really not an encouraging start.  What's the question?

 

Q.  Is Neon Go and Pow Gong a love story, you weirdo?

A.  Could be.  I don't write this angle into stuff intentionally I swear, but then when I look back at what I wrote, well you gotta wonder right?  Other thing you gotta wonder about, okay it's possible Pow Gong has FEELINGS but is scared of Neon's father for obvious reasons.  Thing is, this kingpin sounds remarkably cagey.  Finds out his daughter plans to split and he doesn't stop it, that's smart.  If he stops it, she'll just run away later and he won't know where, right?  So, obviously he sends Pow Gong because his daughter already had some kind of axis with him, they get along.  Useless to send him otherwise, because Pow can't protect her unless she wants him around at the clubs etc.  Whole point is she's running away from all the bodyguards, right?  Okay, so the kingpin is smart.  Expecting "I'm sending you to watch over my daughter, alone, don't lay a hand on her or you're dead" to actually work is dumb, under the circumstances, for several reasons.  The kingpin isn't dumb.  So, could be he chose Pow Gong for this task pretty carefully, maybe he actually expects events to unfold a certain way, possibly even hopes they do...  he'd probably leave the implied death threats open as a test, you know, "Do you wuv, twue wuv, my daughter enough to risk horrible death by goon?" but he could be thinking about stuff like son-in-laws, succession plans here...  it would be smart, which he is.  So like I said, you gotta wonder.

 

Q.  The nuclear cult sent Fountainheavy, a child, alone into an urban area destroyed by nuclear war.  How awful are these people?  How could they do something like that?

A.  Yeah.  I'm pretty sure that's the worst thing that happens in the stuff I wrote.  Fountainheavy is probably 7 or 8 years old at this time.  He's big and strong, but has the pain tolerance of a child (one reason he's a blaster btw) and a child's fear of the dark.  So there he is, alone for the first time in his life, wandering scared in the dark night, just looking for a dry place to sleep, it's probably covered with concrete rubble and bits of broken glass.  Thing is, I do think what the nuclear cult did was wrong, but I also think it was understandable on some level.  Fountainheavy is really, really dangerous.  I didn't spell this out, but he is uhhh differently abled (I sincerely hope that's still the currently acceptable terminology).  I mean, technically every superhero is differently abled, but that's not how we use the phrase generally.  On top of that, his reaction to the sudden deluge of radiation...  well, certain curves of development were accelerated, others were retarded...  and some of the curves that got accelerated involved size, strength and super powers.  He almost killed someone, about a week before he was sent away.  Maybe not intentionally, nobody can be sure, but he put a grown man through a window with one of those "manifestations of visible physical force" during meditation.  The man luckily went through a window instead of being mashed into the concrete walls, there was luckily no glass in the window, he fortunately landed in water 4 stories down instead of on concrete, and there was fortunately no serious injury.  But everyone could see, maybe the next time wouldn't be so lucky.  Or the time after that.

 

Q.  Why didn't his parents go with him?

A.  They had other children, too.  That's the more comfortable answer, and what they told themselves.  Truth is, they were afraid.  Look, I don't like it either, but it happened.

 

Q.  Hold up.  You got what, 18 characters here, Fountainheavy's the only one who fits into the "hero" category.  The only hero you wrote is DIFFERENTLY ABLED?

A.  Uh huh.

 

Q.  Tell me that's not just another way to mock heroes...

A.  Absolutely not.  Don't get me wrong, I really hate heroes (except Fountainheavy!) and think they're turbo-lame.  But I really like and admire Fountainheavy, and sincerely believe that ANY change would make him lesser.  If we can't see that, it means there's something wrong with us, not with him.  Fight me.

 

Q.  Is Arvid 'Balloons' Lyssos actually a talented artist?

A.  Yeah, enormously so.  Fair question, the way I wrote things.  But let's think it over.  He's been holding a position at Childe's Jolly Japes and Jongleurs for years now, we know that.  By doing balloons and bubbles.  We know Childe's is getting PAID, or at least their clientele is some combination of the rich and the scholarly.  I don't see how he does that, unless he has real talent.  I did put "magic" for his origin, which I feel is a clue as to how on earth he's managing to be that good with some balloons and soap.  But the magic doesn't create his artistic ability, it just gives him more ability to express it through his chosen medium.

 

Q.  I'm a little afraid to ask this, but how does Spoils know about diaries and underwear?

A.  "Once they start naming the Forbidden Names, they're like fortune cookies.  You just crack em open..." (horrible noise, truly horrible grin) "...and you can read em."  --Spoils

 

Q.  How do you pronounce Givaud?

A.  Soft G sound like giraffe, rhymes with DeVoe as in Bell Biv DeVoe.  That's why his nickname's G-Vo, and why the new wave R&B cover band was on my mind earlier.  Which I'm convinced the world needs, BBD's Poison, some Boyz 2 Men, a little Heavy D maybe...  fuggedaboudit.

 

Q.  Is Gun Shy Italian?

A.  Cuban

 

Q.  Why does his jacket have a Greek letter on the chest?

A.  It doesn't.  It's the letter I and the letter O, for Island Outlaws, which was the Rogue Isles baseball team for years until other teams started refusing to play them because of all the, umm, regrettable incidents.  Turns out it's a bad idea to play baseball against a team lots of supervillians are rooting for, who knew?  You still see the gear a lot on the isles and elsewhere, sort of a Crooks & Castles thing.  The real stuff is pretty expensive.

 

 

   

Edited by lepidopter
thought of the liver part
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OTHER ONES

 

 

Lucy Goosy

(WarMace/Shield scrapper, natural)

theme song:  Sonic Youth-- My Friend Goo

 

Ry4EHuu4_o.jpg

 

(( Straight outta Sharkhead, daughter of a Scrapyarder activist, grew up around all the fighting with cops and mob goons.  Sort of a Joan of Arc figure to the yardies, which is why they gave her the gear they pulled off a SWAT they got.  Looks like the helmet didn't survive intact... ))

 

 

Stool Pigeon

(Thugs/Sonic mastermind, magic)

theme song:  Kid606-- Phat With a Phd

 

KW1JesRq_o.jpg

 

Edited by lepidopter
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