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12 days ago
Current Can everybody do me a huge solid and like this post: roleplayerguild.com/posts/5…
5 likes
2 yrs ago
Because asking the mods "gib power" is a much better bid than demonstrating a groundswell of supporters, right? #Wraith4Mod2K19
2 likes
2 yrs ago
WRAITH, WRAITH, HE'S OUR MAN, IF HE CAN'T DO IT, NO ONE CAN!
5 likes
2 yrs ago
@KingOfTheSkies but could you fix it with Flex Tape? I say nay-nay
2 yrs ago
That last status was literally the most mind boggling thing I've ever read. Bravo!
3 likes

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C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
B A T M A N
I N C O R P O R A T E D


B R U C E W A Y N E ♦ C E O O F W A Y N E E N T E R P R I S E S ♦ G O T H A M C I T Y
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


"Bruce, why do we fall?"

Almost fifty years ago, two ringing gunshots in the rainy, cold black of an unassuming alley would go on to change the world. For the better, some might say, sacrificing but two in exchange for the greatest hero Gotham City had ever known. Others say the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne has has only made things harder and stranger, letting new breeds of criminal fester in the city, and depriving Gotham of her last, best hope at leaping forward into a brave new world. But, with the efforts of their son, Gotham may just have a chance.

Gotham's streets have known the legend of The Batman for some-odd thirty-five years; they have known his blood and his sweat, the sweeping black of his cape, the glow of his symbol in the sky, and the blinding fury of his rage. Trained under countless masters in the Far East and pushed through endless trials, Gotham's first son forged himself into something new. No longer a mere orphan, but a weapon of devastating power, a cruel reminder of what Gotham lost that night in the rain. But this is the Batman of days gone by. A younger man, heart twisted by senseless violence into something even those closest to him would not recognize.

The Bat grew as the city did, calming with the years, settling into a new normal. From urban myth to vigilante to hero, and everything inbetween. His campaign against Gotham's criminal element has slowly morphed into something more, no longer a boy's struggle for vengenace, but a battle of hearts and minds, hopes and dreams: security for the next generation, lessons for each of his sons to wear the mantle of Robin, his faithful boy sidekick.

Since the emergence of the Superman, Batman has been preparing for the end: the day he can hang up his cowl and watch the sun set on an unwatched city knowing, for the first time, that it would be safe without him. To this end, he has established the so-called Batman Incorporated, dedicated to training gifted youngsters and up-and-comers the ways of The Batman, passing on the tutelage he recieved all those years ago to a new, extended class of proteges.

But something lurks in the back of Bruce's mind, the same paranoia that his festered within the very heart of Batman since the night in the alley. Something is changing in Gotham -- whispers of monsters and owls in the streets, talk of mutant gangs, and a new kind of unrestrained police force. Word of something that is hunting his students. The Batman may need a few more long nights, after all...

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:

For most of my life now, I think we've been getting a different Batman from the one that lives in my heart. The last twenty-odd years of Batman movies have featured a dark, violent vigilante that exacts cruel vengeance on anyone who dares to cross him. I like this Batman, to be sure, and I think it's a wonderful version of the character, but I also think this is a rare opportunity to bring something else to the table.

My Batman is older, and has learned over the years that while scars will leave their marks, they can heal -- especially with a little help from your friends. This is a Batman who wants to be Gotham's protector before he wants to be her 'dark avenger', and a Batman who is getting old enough that the game might be a little more about training the next generation and a little less about making sure to squeeze into the Batsuit every night. I want to write a Batman that has a little more heart to him, one with a storied history and a list of rogues as long as his arm, a long history to reckon with, and a solid troupe of Robins and heroes to help get him through it all.

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



S A M P L E P O S T:


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

A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.
Batman is sampled up and ready to rock! You will note that the Supporting Cast is empty, mostly because I want to see what the lay of the land is with supporting Bat-cast being nabbed by other players. And I was maybe hoping to snag a few X-Men for the Batman Inc. roster, so I'm waiting for an X-Player to help me make those decisions.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
B A T M A N
I N C O R P O R A T E D


B R U C E W A Y N E ♦ C E O O F W A Y N E E N T E R P R I S E S ♦ G O T H A M C I T Y
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


"Bruce, why do we fall?"

Almost fifty years ago, two ringing gunshots in the rainy, cold black of an unassuming alley would go on to change the world. For the better, some might say, sacrificing but two in exchange for the greatest hero Gotham City had ever known. Others say the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne has has only made things harder and stranger, letting new breeds of criminal fester in the city, and depriving Gotham of her last, best hope at leaping forward into a brave new world. But, with the efforts of their son, Gotham may just have a chance.

Gotham's streets have known the legend of The Batman for some-odd thirty-five years; they have known his blood and his sweat, the sweeping black of his cape, the glow of his symbol in the sky, and the blinding fury of his rage. Trained under countless masters in the Far East and pushed through endless trials, Gotham's first son forged himself into something new. No longer a mere orphan, but a weapon of devastating power, a cruel reminder of what Gotham lost that night in the rain. But this is the Batman of days gone by. A younger man, heart twisted by senseless violence into something even those closest to him would not recognize.

The Bat grew as the city did, calming with the years, settling into a new normal. From urban myth to vigilante to hero, and everything inbetween. His campaign against Gotham's criminal element has slowly morphed into something more, no longer a boy's struggle for vengenace, but a battle of hearts and minds, hopes and dreams: security for the next generation, lessons for each of his sons to wear the mantle of Robin, his faithful boy sidekick.

Since the emergence of the Superman, Batman has been preparing for the end: the day he can hang up his cowl and watch the sun set on an unwatched city knowing, for the first time, that it would be safe without him. To this end, he has established the so-called Batman Incorporated, dedicated to training gifted youngsters and up-and-comers the ways of The Batman, passing on the tutelage he recieved all those years ago to a new, extended class of proteges.

But something lurks in the back of Bruce's mind, the same paranoia that his festered within the very heart of Batman since the night in the alley. Something is changing in Gotham -- whispers of monsters and owls in the streets, talk of mutant gangs, and a new kind of unrestrained police force. Word of something that is hunting his students. The Batman may need a few more long nights, after all...

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:

For most of my life now, I think we've been getting a different Batman from the one that lives in my heart. The last twenty-odd years of Batman movies have featured a dark, violent vigilante that exacts cruel vengeance on anyone who dares to cross him. I like this Batman, to be sure, and I think it's a wonderful version of the character, but I also think this is a rare opportunity to bring something else to the table.

My Batman is older, and has learned over the years that while scars will leave their marks, they can heal -- especially with a little help from your friends. This is a Batman who wants to be Gotham's protector before he wants to be her 'dark avenger', and a Batman who is getting old enough that the game might be a little more about training the next generation and a little less about making sure to squeeze into the Batsuit every night. I want to write a Batman that has a little more heart to him, one with a storied history and a list of rogues as long as his arm, a long history to reckon with, and a solid troupe of Robins and heroes to help get him through it all.

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


S A M P L E P O S T:


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

A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.
<Snipped quote by Sep>



... Well, I did ask Byrd. How many likes will it cost for a sheet?
<Snipped quote by Byrd Man>

Byrd applying for Stacy X confirmed.


@Byrd Man how many likes for a Stacy X sheet?
I'm interested in contesting for Spider-Man, possibly, but more and more it's starting to look like I'm in it for...
ONE UNIVERSE IDEAS

Below is not happening, but, one day...








Just wanted to pop in to say it's looking like I'm probably dropping S.H.A.D.E. It just... really doesn't want to happen for me, right now, and I think I need to move onto other ideas.

And as far as other ideas go, I'm thinking of doing something with Vigilante and a 7 Soldiers of Victory lineup... But I also don't want to be that guy that plays the same thing over and over again. So, we'll see.

S.H.A.D.E.

Issue 1




New York City, NY --- The Ant Farm; 1000 miles above Rudy’s Bar and Grill




>S.H.A.D.E. NET LINK ESTABLISHED, AGENT PALMER.
>PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD ___________________
>PASSWORD ACCEPTED! THANK YOU, WELCOME TO S.H.A.D.E. NET.
>QUERY: WHAT IS “THE ANT FARM”?
>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [//--------] 20%

The world around Ray Palmer was awash with static, fizzing white planes of light arcing off into the far distance before levelling, curving upwards, and rolling back into themselves like the tide. Ray might’ve liked it. Lie down and coast off the end of his morning coffee into a nap that might ease the dark circles below his eyes and the caffeine twitches in his hands, Ant Farm be damned. He would have, anyway, if the familiar buzz of background static was enough to drown out the teleporter matrix screaming in the background.

>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [///-------] 30%

Palmer!” And then there was the shouting, the only shrieking whine of a voice loud and commanding enough to edge out the violent thuds of the teleporter array and nest in Ray’s ears like an overgrown gnat. Father Time.

“S.H.A.D.E. Net, downcycle teleporter test procedure -- listen for Agent uplinks as normal. Send time-stamped logs to my L-Pad from the last... Call it ten minutes. Deactivate mind portal.” Ray said, sweeping his hand at the static that flowed around him.

>EXECUTING COMMANDS, AGENT PALMER.
>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [/////-----] 50%

There was a schlorp as reality bled in from around the static’s edges, ripples in signal folding itself away, back to the world of curved metal and office chairs, lab coats and half-destroyed packets of Twizzlers across each workstation.

Well? Father Time’s shrill voice raked across Ray’s ears. He blinked what remained of the static out of his eyes and turned to face the other man. Father Time’s head came up to about Ray’s waist, but he held himself like a man twice as tall, shoulders set and arms poised at his sides, staring up at Ray through the eye-slits of the cartoonish domino mask plastered across his face. He might’ve mistaken him for a Japanese schoolgirl playing dress-up, wandered into The Ant Farm through pure coincidence and trying to play it off like she was meant to be here. Might have, anyway, if it weren’t for the hard look in his eyes that betrayed centuries of experience; and the way Father Time insisted on busting his balls at every available opportunity.

>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [////////--] 80%

“Well, the ah teleporter frequency is definitely reducing S.H.A.D.E. Net’s operational efficiency. Even standard queries get met with significant loading time.” Ray fiddled with his labcoat as he spoke, searching for wherever the Hell he’d crammed his L-Pad.

“And your solution is?” Father Time had already turned on his heel, starting his disappearing act into the labyrinth of The Ant Farm, and expecting Ray to follow.

>QUERY PROCESSING; STAND BY [//////////] 100%
>THE ANT FARM: A MACRO CITY COMPLEX STORED IN THREE-INCH MICRO SCALE SPHERE, DESIGNED BY S.H.A.D.E. OPERATIVES RAY PALMER AND SCIENCE AGENT BELROY. THE ANT FARM SERVES AS S.H.A.D.E.’S PRIMARY HEADQUARTERS, OPERATIONAL CONTROL, AND PRIMARY TESTING FACILITY, AS WELL AS SERVING THE NEEDS OF S.H.A.D.E.’S FULL AGENT COMPLEMENT.

Ray ignored the buzzing of S.H.A.D.E. Net in his head, stumbling forward to keep step with Father Time as he practically skipped ahead like a grade schooler. The Ant Farm before them was a maze of criss-crossing hallways that seemed hand-molded out of the metal that always lead to another laboratory or Agent Apartment Complex secreted away into the body of the metal.

“Uh, Father Time, isn’t this more of a Computer Engineering concern?” Ray’s sweaty palms finally closed around the shape of his L-Pad and he wrenched it from his labcoat pocket, nearly losing his balance and careening into a wayward Agent.

Father Time looked back at him, face blank, “and?”

“Well, sir, I’m a, uh. Physicist.” Ray stammered, trying to look tall in his oversize coat. Father Time rolled his eyes.

“Labcoats like you are what’s keeping S.H.A.D.E. from evolving, Palmer. Get another doctorate, learn another discipline. Two, while you’re at it. It’ll put some hair on your chest.” Father Time’s voice cracked and he resumed his walk. A S.H.A.D.E. Agent wheeled a child past in a bright pink stroller, with Father Time’s S.H.A.D.E. Logo emblazoned on its jumper, marking it as an agency-approved non-agent family member.

“Besides,” Father Time gave Ray a glance, “the nerds in engineering are convinced it’s something to do with your shrink tech keeping us at micro-scale. No issues on their end.”

Ray slowed, gripping his L-Pad. His tech? All Ray was doing was compressing matter, it shouldn’t have affected S.H.A.D.E. Net or the teleporter array’s frequencies. In all likelihood it was the bastards in Computer Engineering passing off a job they didn’t want to handle. And Father Time had to know as much. Ray opened his mouth to comment and found that his legs had carried him off with Father Time deeper into the winding halls of The Ant Farm.

“Where, uh,” Ray began, “where are we going?”

Father Time stopped where they had started -- The Teleporter Labs. The machine whirred to life once again, metal armiture pinwheeling around a central yellow pad.

I am going to a meeting to convince a board of Pentagon stiff-necks that the energy blip in Tibet was just a blip -- bastards want to make another Roswell out of it. You are going to deal with this.” Father Time jerked his thumb at the open door, as the smell of flash-burned silicon started reaching Ray’s nostrils. Somebody was teleporting in.

“Deal with wh--” Ray was cut off by the ‘WHUMP’ of the teleporter, whizzing bands and thuds and electronic whines as it enhanced a simple signal into the form of a man, piece by piece of the teleporter, transitioning from one space to another. He was huge, mottled, and green, with a sword that had to be bigger than Ray’s whole body hanging off of his back.

“Frankie!” Father Time shouted, “welcome home!”

“Father,” Frankenstein's monster still smoked from the teleporter, where is my wife?”
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