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    1. Boomrocker 11 yrs ago

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I honestly don't know what to do now that Oni has quit. I'm kinda stuck in a scene that's... Really dumb, with a bunch of cryptic shit that doesn't make sense and no simple solution? Like, do they still have to solve the puzzle? I don't want to just write a post that's like "OH BUT IT TURNS OUT JACK ISN'T MAGIC SO THEY ALL ESCAPE" or shit like that because that's really cheap, but there's not really a way to 'play' the game now that there isn't somebody to make it make any sense. Should we just turn Jack into an NPC?


The fire department is on its way. At least five calls have been made.
Steven Diggs

With the most fully sick E-brake park anyone in Neo-Tokyo had ever seen, Steve stopped the Sprinter in the middle of the school quadrangle. Screaming, crying children were present everywhere, with everything ranging from soiled pants to missing lunches. A whole bunch of mayhem going on. But something was missing. Something important. Something... scaly.

Where the fuck was pterodactyl man?

Oh no, Steven Diggs, The Machine Head would not be robbed of his fight. He leaned into the open window of the Sprinter and retrieved Annabelle, his metre-and-a-half giant pipe wrench, and bellowed out into the skies the traditional battle cry of his people.

"WHERE DA FUCK YOU AT, SCALE BOY? YOU GIT YO ASS BACK DOWN HERE SO I CAN BEAT THE SHIT OUTTA YOU, PUNK! I AIN'T GOIN' LET YOU GO SO EASY, Y'DIG?!"

Steven Diggs would not be denied.
Steven Diggs

"The hell is this shit?!" Steve yelled at his TV.

Upon first arriving in Neo-Tokyo, he'd managed to obtain a warehouse through a creative exchange of parts and services. The former owner's refrigerator now cooled to -20F, a truly legendary feat obtained only through use of an old soup can, a roll of paper and some duct tape. The warehouse was cold, a bit leaky, and had barely any living space, but it had enough room for two cars and all the tools Steve could store. It was shitty, but it was a good start.

He'd had zero luck tracking down some Pure American Muscle, though, and that annoyed him. One does not drive anything but a Dodge Charger when wanting to make an impression. The warehouse had come with an old beat up Toyota Sprinter in the shittiest white and black colour scheme, but it was falling to bits. A junker. Damn thing's engine didn't even start when the key was turned. Two weeks later, though, Steve had gotten it purring. It wasn't American and it looked like dirt, but it could pull sick drifts and that was what was important.

But I digress. In the cold warehouse with the solid floors and the ratty furniture, Steve was watching a pterodactyl man harass little children on an old CRT TV that smelled like smoke. I mean, of all the things to pick on, it had to be children. Where was the challenge? Children don't fight back! How lame!

And the ad breaks! Fuck! They were worse than the constant OHAI, SUROBEYU NING NONG TANGAYESHIMAAAAAAAAAAS that constantly flooded his small living space whenever Sensei Gattou Ranger Heart Love Seven was on break! Who the hell had hijacked his broadcasting?

Fuck this. Steve was mad. He threw a crinkled up can of PBR, Nectar of the Gods at the TV set and resolved to go down to the school and beat the shit out of this dick-ass pterodactyl, partially to let off some steam, and partially because ain't no one try and prove how mighty they are through children punting, yo! He threw Annabelle, his beloved pipe wrench slash warhammer into the passenger seat, followed up shorly by his toolbox. Then he hopped in the driver's side, turned the ignition, and listened with satisfaction as the engine roared like a much larger car. Putting in that PVC through the intake manifold had done wonders. The radio, crackly but functional, blasted out the glorious ZZ Top at a volume level some might consider offensive. But it was American, and that was what counted.

Steve rolled out of the garage, making sure to get out and lock up first, before violating every known road safety law in Japan and blasting on down the highway like a bat out of hell, the poor stricken Sprinter being flung sideways almost entirely on a whim. There was no such thing as 'too fast' in Steve's vocabulary. There was only 'Stop' and 'Balls To The Wall.'

"GIMME ALL YO' LOVIN', ALL YO' HUGS N' KISSES TOO!" Steve belted out as he tore down the highway like a car possessed, slewing between traffic. For some reason, he always used his indicators. Weird. Once off the highway and into the suburbs, though, he slowed down. He saw something strange.

"Th'fuck?" Steve said as he idled past a burning building. As a stranger in a strange land, he did what any American would do, deciding to enforce the true power of his American Heritage(TM) on these crazy foreign bastards who thought a restaurant would serve as an acceptable bonfire. He pulled over and pulled out the tiny, tiny device that served as a cellular telephone in this country. With difficulty, as the buttons were tiny, he typed in 911. No response. What the fuck? Then he remembered.

"Oh right, y'all jackasses are BACKWARDS!" he did declare as he typed in 119. This time, it rang, and before the person on the other end could speak, he was talking.

"Y'all mawfuggas git yo ass down to dat ol' Chuck-E Cheese on corner o' Nip Nong an' Ching Chong street. Shit's on fire, yo."

Thankfully, Steve wouldn't need to be translated from American to Japanese, or indeed provide any more information than there is in fact a fire. He noticed at least four other bystanders calling in the very same incident, probably with a lot more information than his limited language skills would permit. He ignored the yammering of Japanese in his ear and added a bit more pertinent information.

"An' y'all prob'ly wanna git yo police force down there 'cuz dat fire prob'ly started by some dumb mawfugga, y'dig?"

His job done, Steve hung up and drove sedately at breakneck pace towards the school. He had a pterodactyl motherfucker to beat up.


Name: Steven Diggs (The Machine Head, Fixer, Steve)

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Hero/Villain/Neutral: Neutral

Powers:
Fixer - Loosely speaking, Steve solves problems. He has the instinctive ability to identify things that need to be fixed, come up with a list of things he needs to use, and then promptly do the work as though he'd been doing it for years, regardless of whether he knows what he's doing. This can range from things such as a broken down car, a crashed PC, a boxing match, or a broken heart.

Sometimes his solution is not the best method, which can result in situations where he asks for two feathers, a wire and a bowl of noodles to fix something as simple as a calculator with a flat battery.

This ability only works if Steve is aware a fix is required in the first place.

Abilities (Not powers, but stuff he can do)
"Fixer" - Sometimes Steve lies about what he needs to fix something and then keeps what he requested for himself. This means he's quite good at procuring things kids his age should really not be getting their hands on.

Mechanic - Powers aside, Steve is a pretty dern good car mechanic. He's been working on the things for years, after all.

Driver - Having been raised by a NASCAR driver, Steve knows how to drive. He's almost as good as a professional racer, but their experience will beat his youth more often than not.

Fit - Steve is a tank. He's muscled to the point of being ripped and yes, he has a six pack. Comes from working out regularly and doing physical work all day every day. For that reason, he can and has taken more than more than a few punches and remained standing.

Toolbox Fighter - Steve's knowledge of fighting with his toolbox and tools is quite robust. Screwdrivers become shivs, wrenches become clubs, etc etc. He's a decent brawler without it, but he has no real training.

Weapons: Steve has a toolbox, filled with all manner of things. Screwdrivers, wrenches, shifters, cable coil, you name it, and he can use it as a weapon. He also has a giant one-and-a-half metre pipe wrench which he affectionately refers to as 'Annabelle' and swings it like one would use a warhammer.

Personality: Steven Diggs is a bit of a dick. He disregards most opinions other than his own with a strange nonchalance, so secure is he in his knowledge that he's the best. He's more than happy to talk about himself in a tone resembling subtle bragging. He is almost always in control of himself and rarely gets angry, preferring to disregard people talking down to him since they obviously don't know what they're talking about.

He relaxes this attitude a bit when around friends and people he likes. He considers his own position a lofty ideal to which everyone should aspire, and hey, if he likes someone enough he may even help them with that. He's brilliant, so why shouldn't they be?

He possesses definite bloodlust, enjoying fights and throwing himself into them with relish.

Steve enjoys speed and tinkering a great deal, being from a NASCAR family. In fact, that's part of the reason he's never seen with a steady girlfriend. His standards are so high that his yardstick is Danica Patrick.

Above all else, Steve is an opportunist. Because his skills are often in demand, Steve does occasionally assist people he doesn't like but uses this to obtain leverage over them. Whether it's a trap in the device he just fixed or something like a favour down the line, Steve helps you because it helps him.

History: Steve's father is a NASCAR driver, his mother one of the mechanics on his team. It may not have been true love at first sight but it came, eventually. He was born in Daytona, Florida a bit over eighteen years ago. He had the standard American education, but he spent much of his time trackside assisting his mother and father. It was there that his talents began to develop. He was taught to drive at five, and was driving full size cars at twelve.

After that came his teens, and he was already developing into the slightly dickish guy we all know today. He didn't fit in in early high school. Those who shared his world-view shunned him as they were all far too rich to care, and he got in too many fights for anyone else to care about him. Suffice to say, on topics not focusing on cars and physical education, he did terribly. He did, however, grow into a six foot two musclebound monstrosity.

It wasn't long before he fixed up some forged paperwork to get him out of America and over to Neo-Tokyo. His parents saw it as legitimate, and off he went to find his calling, and perhaps make some money along the way.

To this day, Steve is the giant, dickish NASCAR loving pure-bred American car nut in a world that doesn't appreciate him, so he's going to take it by storm.

Weakness: Creative mind and physical fitness aside, he's still just human. Catching him by surprise or keeping him in the dark with information works too. Finally, he can be provoked to unthinking anger.

Other: Theme Song
@Boomrocker Welcome to the RP man! Glad you can join us. So your character is a repairman hero huh? Quite interesting! Character accepted. Please put the profile in the CS and delete the one here in the OCC.


Repairman opportunist neutral, but the principle is correct.
(EDIT NOTE: This was a character sheet. This is now a comment. Please refer to the characters page.)
"Silence!" the warlord declared as he clutched his head. Alien thoughts, thoughts that were not his. He was strong, he was powerful, and he had mighty force of will, but not even No-Point could withstand the assault of the pearls. He clutched his head, willing the strangeness to go away. Whether or not it worked, he could not tell, but it abated.

"We must proceed to Nu-Goro! Their arsenal will be gratefully accepted! We will need it!"
Raditz - Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria

"I understand! There is no need to shout!" Raditz shouted in response. He looked at the Jawa twisting dials and knobs and wondered why in HFIL he had liet this girl manhandle him so. He could crush her with a thought! But it was the allure of delicacies from a foreign land, and fights of glory beyond all reckoning that drew him in. Soon, people would remember why they feared the name Raditz.

"Let us proceed! There are enemies to be slain, and we are wasting time!" He had zero luck keeping the impatience out of his voice.
This has potential.
"You wear a mask, but you abandon it, perhaps to strike fear in our hearts," was the deep, rumbling voice from deep within the cave. A huge shadow, with a titanic sword on his back, had silhouetted the tiny amount of light emerging from within the shelter. Was it a beast? A monster? An unholy abomination against all mankind? Well, yes and no.

"Brave." The words, melodious and eloquent, continued to emerge from the cave. The huge shadowy figure was stepping into the light now, revealing itself to be the terror of the Tumult, Warlord No-Point. His own mask did little to muffle his voice, though all but his eyes, hair, and suspiciously rounded ears were covered. "But mistaken."

Eyes of grey assessed the intruder. Tall. Almost, but not quite, as tall as No-Point himself. But gangly. The warlord was twice his width. This child would break like a twig under his strength. And unwise! To try and strike fear into the hearts of creatures born in hell, raised in fire, and who had already slaughtered Kokiri warriors for nothing more than sport.

"Nobody cared who I was until I put on the mask."
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