Which hormones are you talking about, Orvious? Does that mean your character could make people attracted to eachother or even turn against each other? If so, that could be pretty damn useful in certain situations.
EDIT: Nevermind -_-' Read the rest of your CS. Don't mean to be rude here, but you're in the wrong place for fan-service fetishes.
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Okay, seriously, if this has a topic elsewhere, point me in the right direction, but what in the hell is with this **BLANK** guy?! Is he a troll? A legit *BLANK*, what?
I mean, he's got a **BLANK** for his avatar, he's named himself after the **BLANK**... Is he just some loser getting himself off to **BLANK** and playing **BLANK** on repeat? Somebody fill me in? Are we just collectively ignoring him and hoping a chance micro-meteor hits him? If so, let me know and I'll gladly jump on that bandwagon with the rest of you!
I mean, he's got a **BLANK** for his avatar, he's named himself after the **BLANK**... Is he just some loser getting himself off to **BLANK** and playing **BLANK** on repeat? Somebody fill me in? Are we just collectively ignoring him and hoping a chance micro-meteor hits him? If so, let me know and I'll gladly jump on that bandwagon with the rest of you!
Sounds like it should be called Comedic Reality Warping :P At higher levels you could have your character alter reality to act like a musical or soap opera like in that episode of Scrubs xD
That way, if it was a Soap Opera reality, you could make it so if anyone died, that it was really just their long lost evil twin and the real character had been kidnapped by a shadowy organisation of taco vendors hell-bent on dominating the world through carefully coordinated bouts of diarrhea!
That way, if it was a Soap Opera reality, you could make it so if anyone died, that it was really just their long lost evil twin and the real character had been kidnapped by a shadowy organisation of taco vendors hell-bent on dominating the world through carefully coordinated bouts of diarrhea!
Okay, changing it now. Sorry for any hassle it was causing :)
Okay :)
In that case what sort of strength would fit a bit better? I was thinking that at Level Three all of her hair could hold the same amount as 1 millimeter of Dyneema Fiber can withstand (240kgs/529lbs), and then doubling that at Level Five (480kg/1058lbs). This would be because her hair would act as an incredibly strong fiber, keeping with the Hair Manipulation theme.
This would also only represent what her hair could hold not lift, meaning that she could catch something and lower it to safety, but not just pick up and hurl traffic willy-nilly. I would regulate her hair to only being able to lift her body weight (140lbs) at Level Three, where it would stay and not increase at later levels.
In that case what sort of strength would fit a bit better? I was thinking that at Level Three all of her hair could hold the same amount as 1 millimeter of Dyneema Fiber can withstand (240kgs/529lbs), and then doubling that at Level Five (480kg/1058lbs). This would be because her hair would act as an incredibly strong fiber, keeping with the Hair Manipulation theme.
This would also only represent what her hair could hold not lift, meaning that she could catch something and lower it to safety, but not just pick up and hurl traffic willy-nilly. I would regulate her hair to only being able to lift her body weight (140lbs) at Level Three, where it would stay and not increase at later levels.
Kirra said
Do you think you could limit your powers to just one instead of four different powers.
Fix'd :)
EDIT: Hmmm... Going over the Interest Check. Are my Level Five abilities still too OP? I figure that with her hair having diamond strength it could hold and lift more. Basically, I was going for "Could lift and throw a full semi/Pull a bus full of orphans to safety from a collapsing bridge", but is that too much?
General Bio
Name: Joy Cereza
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Superpower:
Name of ability: Hair Manipulation.
Description: Can manipulate hair into clothing, defensive armour or offensive attacks.
Level one abilities: Hair acts as Kevlar armour and can protect against elements, keeping Joy warm or cool depending on situation.
Level three abilities: Hair acts as ceramic plated armour and has the tensile strength of 1 millimeter of Dyneema Fiber, capable of holding up to 529 lbs of weight and able to lift up to 140 lbs. Can shape hair into a parachute apparatus to survive falls from a great height.
Level five abilities: Hair acts as diamond armour and can protect against temperatures reaching 1,472°F. Joy's hair can also shape itself into stabbing, grappling or bludgeoning weapons, such as spears, hands, clubs and hammers and is capable of holding up to 1058 lbs.
POINT OF REFERENCE: A Nordic VI propeller driven aircraft weighs 586 lbs with a max weight of 1058 lbs. A standard residential elevator can carry up to 750 lbs
Weakness/drawback: At low levels, flame can burn her hair and it can also be cut by a sharp enough blade. The higher the level of her abilities, the higher the temperature needed to burn her hair and the sharper the blade needed to cut it.
History:
History: Joy was raised by survivalist parents, preparing for the 'inevitable apocalypse'. When she was 13 years old her parents were arrested on a technicality involving unlicensed firearms with the judge making an example of the couple, resulting in Joy being placed in 'the system'. Several of the families that Joy was adopted by were abusive to say the least, the breaking point coming when she was sixteen, involving an incident where her adoptive father suffered an 'accident', leaving him mute and paralyzed from the neck down.
No evidence could be found of foul play and the victim was uncooperative, but the end result was Joy being 'un-adoptable' during the rest of her time in the home. Since leaving the home, Joy has worked several menial, but well-paying jobs, mostly in construction, labor and security. She has developed a distrust of authority for obvious reasons and stays 'on-the-grid' as much as she needs to in order to keep people from knocking on her door, owning no credit cards, cell phone or even internet connection, legally purchasing any weapons in her possession with the appropriate licensing and visiting her parents in prison once a month.
The day before the bus ride:
Joy was just finishing her monthly inventory. At this point, her life was a well oiled machine of routine and repetition, ironic really, considering it was in preparation for an unforeseeable change in the status quo. This house had been in her family for two generations and they'd been lucky to hold on to it after her parents incarceration. Looking over the store room, Joy mentally checked off the items that she'd already checked off on paper. Long life milk, canned goods, gasoline, they were all there. She'd tested each of the generators and found them each to be working and was preparing to make her way to the garden to tend the crops.
The corn was starting to come along as well as the tomatoes. The onions had taken some getting used to with figuring out the correct spacing, but she'd figured it out eventually. It pained her to admit, but the time she'd spent in the home had made her rusty in terms of her agricultural knowledge and she was too proud to ask her parents how to do it. Nevertheless, one half of the onion patch was growing healthy onion bulbs whilst the other, more closely spaced onions were well on their way to becoming green onions. The chives were growing well and the asparagus would take another year to become harvest-able, but by and large, the garden was doing well.
After this, she'd make her way inside, check her knives to make sure they were sharp enough and oil and clean her guns before retiring for the evening before work visiting her parents tomorrow. After that, she'd take The Midway Partisan out to the range for a couple of hours of target practice, just as she always did at least once a week. The Midway Partisan was her pride and joy, a modified, drum-fed XM16E1, or M16, with the barrel shortened and the stock removed. Joy had done this in efforts to create a carbine that combined the feel and quick handling of a handgun with the force of a rifle. The only drawback, however, was that the relatively light weight meant that it had a strong recoil, and was quite difficult to aim with the shortened barrel causing the bullets to 'tumble' through the air, also decreasing accuracy. Joy was almost at the point where she could fire the Partisan one-handed with relative ease, but it would still take her some getting used to. The gun clearly wasn't practical for hunting or long range offense/defence, but it was exactly what she wanted in terms of up-close-and-personal defence.
Sighing with a hint of content, Joy made her way inside. Perhaps after this she'd work her way through a couple of chapters of the latest book she'd been reading. She deserved a treat.
Name: Joy Cereza
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Superpower:
Name of ability: Hair Manipulation.
Description: Can manipulate hair into clothing, defensive armour or offensive attacks.
Level one abilities: Hair acts as Kevlar armour and can protect against elements, keeping Joy warm or cool depending on situation.
Level three abilities: Hair acts as ceramic plated armour and has the tensile strength of 1 millimeter of Dyneema Fiber, capable of holding up to 529 lbs of weight and able to lift up to 140 lbs. Can shape hair into a parachute apparatus to survive falls from a great height.
Level five abilities: Hair acts as diamond armour and can protect against temperatures reaching 1,472°F. Joy's hair can also shape itself into stabbing, grappling or bludgeoning weapons, such as spears, hands, clubs and hammers and is capable of holding up to 1058 lbs.
POINT OF REFERENCE: A Nordic VI propeller driven aircraft weighs 586 lbs with a max weight of 1058 lbs. A standard residential elevator can carry up to 750 lbs
Weakness/drawback: At low levels, flame can burn her hair and it can also be cut by a sharp enough blade. The higher the level of her abilities, the higher the temperature needed to burn her hair and the sharper the blade needed to cut it.
History:
History: Joy was raised by survivalist parents, preparing for the 'inevitable apocalypse'. When she was 13 years old her parents were arrested on a technicality involving unlicensed firearms with the judge making an example of the couple, resulting in Joy being placed in 'the system'. Several of the families that Joy was adopted by were abusive to say the least, the breaking point coming when she was sixteen, involving an incident where her adoptive father suffered an 'accident', leaving him mute and paralyzed from the neck down.
No evidence could be found of foul play and the victim was uncooperative, but the end result was Joy being 'un-adoptable' during the rest of her time in the home. Since leaving the home, Joy has worked several menial, but well-paying jobs, mostly in construction, labor and security. She has developed a distrust of authority for obvious reasons and stays 'on-the-grid' as much as she needs to in order to keep people from knocking on her door, owning no credit cards, cell phone or even internet connection, legally purchasing any weapons in her possession with the appropriate licensing and visiting her parents in prison once a month.
The day before the bus ride:
Joy was just finishing her monthly inventory. At this point, her life was a well oiled machine of routine and repetition, ironic really, considering it was in preparation for an unforeseeable change in the status quo. This house had been in her family for two generations and they'd been lucky to hold on to it after her parents incarceration. Looking over the store room, Joy mentally checked off the items that she'd already checked off on paper. Long life milk, canned goods, gasoline, they were all there. She'd tested each of the generators and found them each to be working and was preparing to make her way to the garden to tend the crops.
The corn was starting to come along as well as the tomatoes. The onions had taken some getting used to with figuring out the correct spacing, but she'd figured it out eventually. It pained her to admit, but the time she'd spent in the home had made her rusty in terms of her agricultural knowledge and she was too proud to ask her parents how to do it. Nevertheless, one half of the onion patch was growing healthy onion bulbs whilst the other, more closely spaced onions were well on their way to becoming green onions. The chives were growing well and the asparagus would take another year to become harvest-able, but by and large, the garden was doing well.
After this, she'd make her way inside, check her knives to make sure they were sharp enough and oil and clean her guns before retiring for the evening before work visiting her parents tomorrow. After that, she'd take The Midway Partisan out to the range for a couple of hours of target practice, just as she always did at least once a week. The Midway Partisan was her pride and joy, a modified, drum-fed XM16E1, or M16, with the barrel shortened and the stock removed. Joy had done this in efforts to create a carbine that combined the feel and quick handling of a handgun with the force of a rifle. The only drawback, however, was that the relatively light weight meant that it had a strong recoil, and was quite difficult to aim with the shortened barrel causing the bullets to 'tumble' through the air, also decreasing accuracy. Joy was almost at the point where she could fire the Partisan one-handed with relative ease, but it would still take her some getting used to. The gun clearly wasn't practical for hunting or long range offense/defence, but it was exactly what she wanted in terms of up-close-and-personal defence.
Sighing with a hint of content, Joy made her way inside. Perhaps after this she'd work her way through a couple of chapters of the latest book she'd been reading. She deserved a treat.
Suddenly, high above the heads of all combatants, the sun gained sentience. Looking down at the arena, it saw the battle and, with a fire burning in its belly (get it? GET IT?!), it directed it's thermonuclear energy behind itself, propelling itself towards the battle. Since it's heat was directed behind itself, it prevented the arena from burning up. Once the sentient sun reached the distance of the moon, destroying it, the sun looked down and said in a thunderous voice,
"And boom goes the dynamite."
The sun then imploded on itself, becoming a black hole.
"And boom goes the dynamite."
The sun then imploded on itself, becoming a black hole.
I'm interested if you're still accepting? I can have a CS up this evening ^_^
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