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Opinionated nerd for hire.

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<Snipped quote by AndyC>





Oh, it's gonna happen.
@AndyC Will you be bringing back Raven/Starfire as well?


Probably, I just haven't decided what their status quo will be just yet. I might pick them up where I left off at DCUG, or I might have them active for a while, I'm not sure. Gonna work on that this weekend.
Congrats, @AndyC.


Thanks, man. You had a really good CS, so I'll do what I can to make sure my Spidey is worthy.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

The Amazing

S P I D E R - M A N


Peter Benjamin Parker ♦ College Student, Freelance Photographer ♦ Brooklyn, New York ♦ Independent

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


"Okay, so half the NYPD wants me behind bars, SHIELD wants me locked away in some black site, every criminal from here to Newark wants me dead, I'm behind on rent, I've got a paper due that I haven't even started on, and oh hey, Rhino's tearing up 82nd and Lexington. Sounds about right for a Monday."


C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Spider-Man is my favorite character in all of fiction. Even after years of bad writing, disappointing movies, less interesting replacements, and IMO a general misunderstanding of what makes the character great, there's still something special about Peter Parker that always brings me back.

I want to bring back a critical element of Spider-Man that I believe the folks at Marvel and much of the fanbase have forgotten: namely, the life of Peter Parker isn't meant to be a sitcom, it's meant to be a soap opera. Yes, he's funny and nerdy and he runs his mouth a lot, but that doesn't count for much of anything now that, thanks to the MCU, every bloody superhero in the world is a wisecracking smartass who quotes pop-culture. The thing that classic Spider-Man did better than his counterparts is the drama, the personal tragedy, the romance, the sheer unironic and unabashed feeeeelings that so many people avoid because taking things seriously is lame. I'm still going to keep Pete's sense of humor and play up how clownish characters like JJJ can be, but I also want to tell stories that have stakes, costs, and losses amidst all the technicolor tomfoolery.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:







S A M P L E P O S T:

"Uuuughhhh.....this sucks," I say as I trudge through a waist-deep river of sewage. "I'll bet nobody on the Justice League has to crawl through sewers on the job. ....Well, maybe Batman....."

Two weeks ago, people started disappearing across Brooklyn. First was a pediatrician, then an insurance agent, then an OsCorp security guard. At first, it didn't seem like there was any connection between them, three seemingly random disappearances that had me looking in all different directions across town for leads. It wasn't until the fourth vanishing that things started to click into place.

"Please be down here," I whisper to myself as the sewage canal gives way to a large, cavernous pump-house. Sure enough, sitting in the far corner, rocking back and forth hugging himself, is who I was praying to find.

Billy Connors, Doctor Curt Connors' nine-year-old son.

A month ago, the pediatrician, one Dr. Kenneth Lang, caught that Billy was showing symptoms of leukemia. He recommended the Connors to see an oncologist, but the insurance agent, one Pamela Burton, told them that it wasn't covered in their plan. Doctor Connors began smuggling OsCorp equipment to his lab at ESU to develop treatments independently, but was caught by a security guard, one George Ransome, who blew the whistle on him. While none of them had any direct tie to the sickness, each had effectively handed the poor boy a death sentence.

Switching my mask's lenses to infra-red, I look around the concrete and steel of the old pump-house, and the coast appears to be clear. Doing my best to climb out of the muck without making too much noise, I quietly call out to him.

"Billy? Billy Connors?" I ask. He stares at me with wide eyes, then quietly nods. "It's all right, I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

As I approach, Billy seems to shrink in on himself.

"Hey, no need to worry," I reassure him, "It's just me, your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Here to save days and fight bad guys. No case too big, no case too small. Or in this case, too dark and smelly. Boy, are your mom and dad going to be glad to see you!"

Billy pulls his knees up to his chest and sinks his head down. His chest starts to shake, and I realize he's crying.

"...was it something I said?"

"Don't hurt him....he's sick.....that's all....he's sick...." Billy whimpers, repeating again and again, "he's sick....he's sick...."

Oh man. The poor kid's probably been through a lot. Whoever took him, whatever they did to him, he's now talking to himself in the third person. When I find the kidnapper, I'll make sure he never does this to anyone again.

"Billy, hey, Billy?" I crouch down as I approach him, trying to get him back to reality. "I know you're sick. I'm sorry, I really am. But I know some doctors, some really good ones, and they can--"

"I wasn't talking about me," Billy interrupts. "Something's....something's w-wrong with him. He....doesn't know what he's d-doing. He's s-sick."

".......who's sick?"

Billy doesn't answer, but he stares right past me.

I feel the familiar sensation running up my spine, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. That super-reflex, my vaunted 'Spider-Sense.' Something's moving behind me.

Something big.

"HssssssSSSSSSsssssSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssss......."

"....I don't suppose there's any chance that's just a gas leak, is it?" Billy shakes his head, and I sigh. "Okay, then let's just--"

Whatever witticism I was about to say flees from my mind, as I turn and am greeted with a blur of green scales, flashing yellow eyes, and snapping, slavering jaws.

"Oh yeah, 'Don't hurt him,' the kid says," I mutter to myself as I ready my web-shooters and scramble for dear life.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

Coming Soon (hopefully)
@Hillan

I am sorely disappointed by the lack of Nick Cage in your CS.


The sad thing is, there are three different heroes that could apply to.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

The Amazing

S P I D E R - M A N


Peter Benjamin Parker ♦ College Student, Freelance Photographer ♦ Brooklyn, New York ♦ Independent

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


"Okay, so half the NYPD wants me behind bars, SHIELD wants me locked away in some black site, every criminal from here to Newark wants me dead, I'm behind on rent, I've got a paper due that I haven't even started on, and oh hey, Rhino's tearing up 82nd and Lexington. Sounds about right for a Monday."


C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Spider-Man is my favorite character in all of fiction. Even after years of bad writing, disappointing movies, less interesting replacements, and IMO a general misunderstanding of what makes the character great, there's still something special about Peter Parker that always brings me back.

I want to bring back a critical element of Spider-Man that I believe the folks at Marvel and much of the fanbase have forgotten: namely, the life of Peter Parker isn't meant to be a sitcom, it's meant to be a soap opera. Yes, he's funny and nerdy and he runs his mouth a lot, but that doesn't count for much of anything now that, thanks to the MCU, every bloody superhero in the world is a wisecracking smartass who quotes pop-culture. The thing that classic Spider-Man did better than his counterparts is the drama, the personal tragedy, the romance, the sheer unironic and unabashed feeeeelings that so many people avoid because taking things seriously is lame. I'm still going to keep Pete's sense of humor and play up how clownish characters like JJJ can be, but I also want to tell stories that have stakes, costs, and losses amidst all the technicolor tomfoolery.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:







S A M P L E P O S T:

"Uuuughhhh.....this sucks," I say as I trudge through a waist-deep river of sewage. "I'll bet nobody on the Justice League has to crawl through sewers on the job. ....Well, maybe Batman....."

Two weeks ago, people started disappearing across Brooklyn. First was a pediatrician, then an insurance agent, then an OsCorp security guard. At first, it didn't seem like there was any connection between them, three seemingly random disappearances that had me looking in all different directions across town for leads. It wasn't until the fourth vanishing that things started to click into place.

"Please be down here," I whisper to myself as the sewage canal gives way to a large, cavernous pump-house. Sure enough, sitting in the far corner, rocking back and forth hugging himself, is who I was praying to find.

Billy Connors, Doctor Curt Connors' nine-year-old son.

A month ago, the pediatrician, one Dr. Kenneth Lang, caught that Billy was showing symptoms of leukemia. He recommended the Connors to see an oncologist, but the insurance agent, one Pamela Burton, told them that it wasn't covered in their plan. Doctor Connors began smuggling OsCorp equipment to his lab at ESU to develop treatments independently, but was caught by a security guard, one George Ransome, who blew the whistle on him. While none of them had any direct tie to the sickness, each had effectively handed the poor boy a death sentence.

Switching my mask's lenses to infra-red, I look around the concrete and steel of the old pump-house, and the coast appears to be clear. Doing my best to climb out of the muck without making too much noise, I quietly call out to him.

"Billy? Billy Connors?" I ask. He stares at me with wide eyes, then quietly nods. "It's all right, I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

As I approach, Billy seems to shrink in on himself.

"Hey, no need to worry," I reassure him, "It's just me, your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Here to save days and fight bad guys. No case too big, no case too small. Or in this case, too dark and smelly. Boy, are your mom and dad going to be glad to see you!"

Billy pulls his knees up to his chest and sinks his head down. His chest starts to shake, and I realize he's crying.

"...was it something I said?"

"Don't hurt him....he's sick.....that's all....he's sick...." Billy whimpers, repeating again and again, "he's sick....he's sick...."

Oh man. The poor kid's probably been through a lot. Whoever took him, whatever they did to him, he's now talking to himself in the third person. When I find the kidnapper, I'll make sure he never does this to anyone again.

"Billy, hey, Billy?" I crouch down as I approach him, trying to get him back to reality. "I know you're sick. I'm sorry, I really am. But I know some doctors, some really good ones, and they can--"

"I wasn't talking about me," Billy interrupts. "Something's....something's w-wrong with him. He....doesn't know what he's d-doing. He's s-sick."

".......who's sick?"

Billy doesn't answer, but he stares right past me.

I feel the familiar sensation running up my spine, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. That super-reflex, my vaunted 'Spider-Sense.' Something's moving behind me.

Something big.

"HssssssSSSSSSsssssSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssss......."

"....I don't suppose there's any chance that's just a gas leak, is it?" Billy shakes his head, and I sigh. "Okay, then let's just--"

Whatever witticism I was about to say flees from my mind, as I turn and am greeted with a blur of green scales, flashing yellow eyes, and snapping, slavering jaws.

"Oh yeah, 'Don't hurt him,' the kid says," I mutter to myself as I ready my web-shooters and scramble for dear life.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

Coming Soon (hopefully)
WANT OOC. WANT NOW.

I'm interested, likely contending for Spidey.
EVENT #1: TROUBLE IN TOKYO


No Twists Today
Target Number: 15
Timer: 3
For the sake of speeding things up, I'm gonna drop the 24-hour waiting period and just say that Thrash Panda is APPROVED.
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