Lugubrious

Re:Unison

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

alright so

I admit my wording was super fucky on this one because I'm writing at midnight and my brain is running out of juice. What I meant to say is that it's not a very common name. Even then, the syllables you're describing are "Hi" "Yu" and "Go" since "Hu" is actually more a "Hyu," a mix of the "Hi" and "Yu" sounds. "Hu" does not quite exist on its own in ye olde nihongo. It's "fu". If I want to be anal about it, technically his name should be "Hyugo" and I think a general "Yugo" works much better in that regard, but I'm not going to be on your ass about it. The lack of a surname + the fact he fled made me think of a westener, though. It was just unclear in that regard, I'm fine wit the name.

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

Yeah, pretty much. Sorry for being on your ass about it; there's just certain factors I'm much more hesitant on allowing you guys to play around with than others.

@Ammokkx

No worries. I knew it was unconventional going in, and actually that if I wanted to get a real name with as close a pronunciation as possible that I should go with 'Yugo', and that 'Hugo' with Japanese pronunciation -to my understanding- would be more like 'hoogo'. Anyway, since things are fine, I'll go ahead and put the modified sheet along with Hume's into the Characters tab.

Re:Unison

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

It's pretty common etiquette, my man. I've never ran into a situation before where someone just casually drops 3 NPC's on a GM without asking. I also said "no more than two characters" per person- I didn't want people creating more populace in my world than I could be reasonably asked to handle.

Either way, removing the last paragraph doesn't really get rid of the crux of the issue. The backstory is still implied as having a lot of them flee together. I should apologise again, though, because there's a few more issues I failed to touch upon in my last review because I was taken aback by the suddenness of the issue I described above.

@Ammokkx

I wasn't planning to play them or even really have them involved, just off in the background somewhere. I do apologize for overreaching in that regard, and I'm sorry that the issue was so severe as to take you aback. Had I known what I was doing was such an affront, I never would have done so. In addition to removing the last paragraph I have edited the backstory so that they separate not long after fleeing.

Firstly, the name "hugh" isn't all that commonly Japanese. Is he someone born in the American area, fled by boat and transferring? Because that would make an amount of sense, as long as you could also justify him knowing the language. Ayesha gets away with it because she was named by a hermit and doesn't even have a last name, and the constructs get away with it even more because they're not humans. Speaking of which, you're also missing a last name.

The name is 'Hugo', which is at least formed of syllables that exist in Japanese. I'd reason that somewhat crazed, supremacist characters might choose names for their kids that set them apart, and also that a kid who explicitly wants to get away from his family might disavow his last name, but I can certainly add one in, and if you do really want a normal Japanese name, I can do that too.

And I'm also going to go more in-depth as to why I'm not accepting the genetics idea. Simply put, genetics are not an absolute given. While it's possible to have a controlling set of parents who might have those traits, it doesn't necessarily grant their children the same. Even if we ignore how incredibly unlikely it is that two people being able to handle multiple constructs meeting and breeding is, their offspring would have no guarantee of being able to hold the same traits. Genetics are a construct of many, many generations, including ones with lesser or more diluted genes that are still present. You also have to keep in mind that life force is akin to stamina, and closely linked to it, but not entirely the whole cake. It's also intrinsically tied to your magical ability- something inherently supernatural. It's an almost uncontrollable force.

It'd be more accurate to say that with a mix of intense training, the right genes and a much higher-than-average magical affinity, you'd have a shot at wielding two constructs and an exceedingly rare chance at 3. This isn't something you can achieve via simple aggressive breeding. While it could be that his parents were very abusive and tried their best to get this as a result, and be delusional enough to think it works, I wouldn't count on it working with any certainty. It'd give him enough reason to flee, but I don't feel comfortable in using it as a justification for why we have a multi-construct user running around.

It also seems like a weird goal in general to set, because the ability to wield two, while extraordinary, is not exactly a world-shaking event by itself. It wouldn't suddenly make them some kind of messiah, and the person in question would still need to have two constructs willing to follow them. While people like this would obviously be valued in peace-keeping scenarios, there's very little utility it would give outside of that. It's more akin to an abusive parent who never got the chance to be the best pianist in the world specifically raising their child to be just that. Just having lots of kids doesn't make for the best pianist though, you have to nurture it carefully and methodically with purpose.

I'll admit that I overreached in the multi-constructs thing. I knew that it was supposed to be an extraordinary phenomenon, but I hadn't quite comprehended the degree. I can strike the whole thing from the record. Are those all the issues you have?

Re:Unison

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh no

Luge, I feel bad for you, but I'm not going to allow you to just casually decide what NPC's are around without asking me beforehand. While I suppose it's my fault for not saying this, I was going to use that reserved post in the characters tab as a log of any NPC's you guys encountered. Further, I was going to have last-years too. While I'd maybe be fine if you'd asked me ahead of time with one of those running around, and me writing it in to the best of my ability, I'm not really okay with you casually dropping 3 NPC's(7, if counting constructs) on me like this.

I'm especially not okay with creating this particular dual-wielding construct user either, as while they'd come into play, I very much have an idea of my own for them. You're right in assuming they'd be a last year, and of course you'd be privy to the surface-level information required to make interacting with them not a nightmare, but it's very much not this character. Making multi-partnerships 'commonplace' also really stings for me, as it should be an extremely rare trait. Technically any human could do it, but the amount of stress you'd be putting on your body would be akin to exercising beyond your limits every day. At some point, you just break, which is why it takes both a trained and talented mind to be able to pull this off. I really wish you'd asked me this beforehand, because it feels so awkward to have to casually dismiss a big crux of your backstory.

As it stands, I really can't accept this character, I'm sorry.

@Ammokkx

Whoa, I didn't realize I was treading such dangerous water. I had no idea that we weren't supposed to make NPCs. You might consider adding that to the rules. Anyway, it's no problem for me to just eliminate the whole last paragraph.

Re:Unison

Here is my concept for Hume's human partner. I hope you enjoy.

Whipped Worrier

Name:
Suzuki Hugo

Age:
20

Appearance:


Personality:
Regrettably, Hugo has not been able to prevent his most notable trait from defining him, which is his anxiety. Possessed of a anxious disorder, he is irritable and prone to worrying, tires easily, and is near-constantly on edge. Stressful situations can escalate this anxiety to panic, causing sweating, heart pounding, difficulty breathing, shaking, and crushing feelings of imminent doom. Naturally, he tries to avoid situations where his anxiety will come to a head, giving him an impression of aloofness, shyness, strictness, and superstition, the latter of which stems from his own personal tendency to see things as omens. Missing or failing things sets him on edge, but landing difficult attacks or other achievements provide him great relief, as does hugging things and the sensation of cool water.

However, this is not ultimately who Hugo is. Without his disorder's clutches, he's a genial and compassionate fellow, never particularly outgoing but always considerate and polite. While he doesn't have an artistic bone in his body, he likes drama and music, and is a staple figure at whatever concerts or plays crop up every now and again. A certain sense of pride in his ability to live for himself despite his disorder gives him an independent streak, prevents him from asking for help or really working well with others. This is only compounded by his tendency to cut people off that he deems unhealthy for him, leaving him a friendly if cautious loner. His aspirations are, in a roundabout way, heroic. He does, after everything, want to relieve suffering and better humanity's condition.

Background:
While he believes more in nature than nurture, looking back on his early life, Hugo can pin down a solid explanation for his anxiety. His parents were, in a way, visionaries—they thought they understood the problems with the world and how to fix them. Hailing from a line blessed with extremely healthy genetics and distinctive physiological traits, they maintained the belief that their genes were best suited for the world. As such, they continued in the tradition of having lots of kids, and among all of his brothers and sisters, Hugo was simply one of many faces given from birth the purpose of strengthening humanity.

Every sibling suffered from their parents' negligence and high expectations, given punishment and correction instead of attention and encouragement as they were made to work with constructs from an early age. This sort of treatment evoked Hugo's anxiety early, and with the pressure on, he disappointed his family severely. Many of his siblings, eager to escape their elders' wrath themselves, tormented him also. A few showed him kindness, and eventually, it was with them that Hugo ran away. With nobody to turn to and the everpresent threat of their family, the siblings found that freedom presented its own hardships, and were forced to part ways. Without a construct of his own, Hugo remained alone and endangered, living each day just to survive.

Eventually, however, a stroke of luck found its way to him. He came across another loner, a construct named Hume, and soon realized they needed one another in more ways than one. Hume, lost and heartbroken following the demise of his beloved family, found someone to love and protect. Hugo, meanwhile, found strength and reassurance, a friend who could take away his pain. The pair ended up at Geiru institute, taking advantage of its interest in duos like theirs to find a home at last.

Magic:
Hugo has the ability to create magical cords, white in color, somewhat translucent, and glowing just a little. He can alter their length and manipulate them to a slight degree as long as he's touching them. While a strange magic, it's one that comes in handy, whether for binding, sealing, repair, or fighting. Specifically, he uses it with a metal hook in order to create a sort of chain-hook that he lashes out with from afar to cut or capture. Because it's a difficult weapon to use that requires a lot of finesse, he gets a great amount of satisfaction and courage from its successful application, but is quick to stress if he misses or fumbles it. He also often uses it to make bolas with rocks or or whatever else is lying around.

World of Light

Tora & Poppi

Level 4 Tora - (39/40) EXP and Level 3 Poppi - (30/30) EXP
Location: Paved Wilderness
Word Count: 740

Tora watched with his mouth agape at the flurry of spirits that flew from Grimm's failing body and into the sky. Questions flooded through him: what were they doing there, where were they going, why weren't they being dropped as loot? Then again, the uncollected spirits from 1-1 vanished if left unattended for too long as well, so maybe these hit their expiration date as well. Only one, aside from the orange dual swords, remained: the spirit of the fearsome-looking biker himself, sitting on Peach's hand.

The princess bore a pensive expression. She suspected that this whole journey would be one long chain of wishing she better understood what was going on, but she did know one thing. What she'd seen of Mr. Grimm painted him as a tough man on a mission, willing to use violence to achieve his goals, but not out of insanity or bloodlust. That meant his spirit could be useful as more than just some weapon, unlike the leftovers of that vile killer clown. Fresh in her mind were the words of the Master of Masters, insisting that the heroes would need all the power they could get if they were to succeed. Some of the others could hold their own no problem, but she'd been hesitant to even use her scatterblaster on Grimm's tire, and the thought of hurting someone herself made her sick. In the heat of the battle, she'd clung to the sidelines, dominated by worry and panic. Peach knew she, despite her bravado earlier, she wasn't cut out for this. Not as she was.

Before anyone could tell her it was a bad idea, Peach clutched the spirit in her gloved hand and placed it against her heart. The instant it made contact, a surge of raw power flowed through her, and multicolored light shone across the desert. Her being began to change, and she staggered to her feet, wide-eyed and clutching at her heart. Peach clenched her jaw, struggling to hold in the sensation of exploding, until with a strangled cry she cast the energies off in a final burst of light.

When it faded, a changed woman stood on her place. Her skin tone had darkened to about the halfway point between her original self's and Grimm's, and while her hair retained its overall style, it had reconstituted into thin dreadlocks whose lower halves were blond and upper halves black. Her dress had become more of a pink longcoat, with black jeans on below and a black vest on top. For a moment, she stared at her hand listlessly, its pristine white glove now fingerless. Then, she took a deep breath, and in a huskier voice said, “This...is me. It's weird...I can feel some sort of connection to your spirits. I think I can take them out, and put them back in.” Running a hand along her bicep, she noted the greater definition and nodded. “Now I can fight alongside you. Be a real leader.” She stepped back, and looked around. “Okay. Let's keep moving. Grab whatever you want from the fallen, but be quick about it. And don't fuse with Needles. He'll mess you up.” She returned to her kart, but paused before getting in. For some reason, she really wanted a bike instead. But it didn't really matter.

Tora and Poppi watched her go, the former remarking to his invention, “Meh meh. Looks like Poppi not only one getting upgrade.” Turning his focus to her, the Nopon said, “Good to see that QT mode not lost after all, just disabled. Now that Poppi have second loadout, Tora really need to get new Poppiswap parts, meh.”

The artificial blade nodded, before pointing toward Bowser Jr. “Want to help small turtle again, masterpon? With boatcar totaled, have no way of fast travel.” She glanced at him disapprovingly, as if anticipating his train of thought. “And Poppi not fly Tora whole way.”

He thought about it, then tossed his head dismissively. “Meh-meh. Not think so. Tiny-tiny hammer take ages and ages to fix, and giant machine seem unwieldy anyway. Plus, not so simple to drive as karts.” A wing-finger extended in the direction of the rabbid truck. “Tora and Poppi hop in with them. Cannot be so bad, meh?” With no casualties during the battle, he seemed to embody the general good mood permeating the group. With a pep in his step he waddled toward his destination, and Poppi followed.

Results!

Party: @Archmage MC's Blazermate, @DracoLunaris' Bowser, @Stekkmen's Centurion, @Stern Algorithm's Din, @Genon's Donnie, @Simple Unicycle's Gene,@Gentlemanvaultboy's Linkle, @thedman's Michael & Franklin, @ProPro's Courier 6 & Ratchet, Tora & Poppi, @Dawnrider’s Hat Kid and Banjo
Encounter Reward: 12 EXP
Stunt Bonus: Banjo & Kazooie, Centurion, Din, Donnie, Linkle
Stunt Reward: +3 EXP

Re:Unison

Also, @Lugubrious, since I don't think anyone's intent on going solo human to pair up with you, I think it might be best if you made one for yourself.

@Ammokkx

Noted.

World of Light

Mr. Grimm

Location: Paved Wilderness

Groaning, Mr. Grimm picked up his head to look Linkle in the eye. Even now, while his life bled from his body, his gaze held such intensity. "...I ain't given up. Kuh. Kill you...in a minute." He lowered his gaze, clenched his teeth, and struggled to breath, the air rattling in his lungs. Meanwhile, more heroes appeared by the second. Tora and Poppi, aware that Grimm posed no threat anymore, arrived with weapons lowered and guard down. No small amount of consternation faced them, since until now everyone they'd faced had been either a hero to free, an animal or machine, or a threat whose continued existence meant others suffering. Having just one enemy left, surrounded, unable to fight back and more than a little pathetic, presented a problem that neither could readily solve.

To Peach, however, the answer seemed clear. Galeem's influence made people enemies, so for those not too far gone, defeat means friendship. Doing bad things didn't make one a monster. She planned to share with the man a piece of her heart, and give him a chance to redeem himself. The moment after she stepped forward, however, a more normal-sized Agoston leaped down from the monster truck. In a reckless display of theatricality and aplomb, he executed a massive elbow drop, striking Grimm's back from above. A gasp escaped Peach as she heard a sickening crack, and Grimm slumped over. Darkness overtook his vision, but with a herculean effort he forced his eyes open. Already his body was starting to turn to ash, shreds coming off and blowing away in the wasteland wind. "Damn," he choked out, "Sorry...dad." The princess heard his words, and something throbbed within her. Instinctively, she rushed over, knelt by his side, and took his ashen hand in her white glove.

She didn't blame the Centurion or her other allies, since they were just doing their job. A part of her knew that sympathizing with an enemy was foolish, but the sudden and inexplicable notion of something somehow noble being lost filled her with pity. Mr. Grimm briefly met her gaze, recognizing a gentle soul in his final moments. He seemed to relax, accepting the end of his tale. From his chest, a great many spirits flew out, shooting up into the air and vanishing. An uncommonly keen eye could count eighty-seven of them, but only one remained behind, in Peach's hand. At its core a mirror image of his face lurked, grim and alone. Then the reaper lived no more.

World of Light

Mr. Grimm

Location: Paved Wilderness

Beyond the immediate fight, Grimm's Death Spawn continued their tenacious pursuit of their targets. Two sped off into the distance as their sorcerous quarry vanished, destined to destroy themselves against the land before they reached Kamek's bolthole, though only just. Another two zoomed toward the unaware loiterers Geno and Mario, who without an articulated response would find themselves meeting the brutal soulmasses head-on in just a few moments. Bowser, however, chose to act. Aiming to protect his invaluable healer, he threw himself in front of Blazermate and took the Death Spawn meant for her with his Mecha Mitt. Had his son not bee proccupied with the clown car's reacquisition, he could have told Bowser just how strong a Death Spawn was, but the Koopa King found out first-hand. Its power bulled into him, exhausting the Mecha Mitt's shield battery and badly damaging it, before it flipped the battered Bowser on his back. Still, all things considered he wasn't that much worse for wear. The blow more disarmed him than hurt him, and with nobody around to take advantage of his vulnerability, a grateful Blazermate could attend any wounds.

Back at the brawl, Linkle entered the fray using a rabbid friend's team-jump. The sight of a humanoid figure hurtling his way prompted Mr. Grimm to ready one of his new swords for hurling. A keen, balanced blade and a strong arm would hopefully mean at least a crippling slash for the new opponent, leaving him free to deal with the next. When he fixed his attention on Linkle, however, he hesitated. “Little girl...?”

Mr. Grimm had robbed people. Killed people, even. And he'd known that some of the one's he'd killed didn't have it coming. This fight, here and now, was one not just for survival but for his future. Nothing in this new world mattered. When he got his wish, it would all be undone. Yet somehow, despite knowing all that, he couldn't bring himself to throw his blade. He hesitated only for a second, but in that moment, Linkle's arrows fell upon him. “Gaah!”A half-dozen pierced his clothing and sunk into his flesh, the shock of it forcing him to drop his weapons, and the reaper -a human, at the end of the day- collapsed to his knees. Breathing ragged, it took all his will to not fall forward.

A few seconds later, a kart pulled up not far away. Peach put her vehicle into park and disembarked, her countenance serious. She'd seen everything: Grimm's abilities, his hopeless last stand, and his decision to spare the lives of his attackers. While he looked like a bloodthirsty lunatic, and had in fact attacked the heroes, why would he do such self-harmful things? He didn't act sadistically or maniacally like the clown. The princess wondered these things as she remained a careful distance away, lest Grimm have something else up his sleeve.

World of Light

Mr. Grimm

Location: Paved Wilderness

With enemies all around, Mr. Grimm couldn't predict who'd be attacking first. Out of the assembled heroes, Banjo stepped up to bat first, zooming in from the position of safety he'd occupied with his partner so far to launch a literal attack at the lone reaper. By the time he spotted the bear coming, he could only throw out a wild kick in the hopes that it'd stop Banjo cold, but the pair proved heavier than expected. Their weighty clothesline bodily knocked Grimm from his perch, sending all three over the edge and to the earth below. Banjo could mitigate the landing through a roll, but his foe was no slouch when it came to recovery either. Both parties recovered their footing at about the same time, yet even as the Banjo and Kazooie readied themselves, they could not prepare for exactly what Mr. Grimm had in store.

Instead of extended a fist, Grimm raised a hand, its fingers curled into claws as if clutching something. A few feet stood between the combatants, but even at that range Banjo and Kazooie could feel something amiss. A crawling sensation consumed them--the feeling of something beneath their skin being torn away. After a moment, a rainbow mote ripped from their bodies, flying into Grimm's hand. Neither elation nor viciousness clouded Grimm's painted features; he regarded the spirit without passion. Souls came so easy that he'd never imagined a problem gathering a hundred, but if his mission ended here there wasn't much of a point in inflicting further pain. He thrust his arm forward, launching the spirit back into the duo's bodies. The force sent them tumbling away at high speed, but otherwise there wouldn't be much harm. Mr. Grimm moved backward, putting the giant husk of his machine behind him so that he wouldn't be surrounded. If thing somehow turned around, he could worry about his collection later. Survival came first.

Grimm conjured a collected spirit into his hand. "For ya own good," he murmured, glancing inside. The figure within could be seen for only a split second before he crushed it. Into his hands appeared two curved swords, orange in color with white tips, their handles wrapped in fur. Though untrained in such weaponry, Grimm needed whatever he could get. He gripped them tightly and prepared for whoever came next.

World of Light

The Paved Wilderness

Level 4 Tora - (26/40) EXP and Level 3 Poppi - (17/30) EXP

The last thing Mr. Grimm expected was for some pint-sized rat to launch its own Death Spawn back at him. The screaming souls, albeit counterfeits conjured up by the freaky thing, tore into him, but only inflicted half as much damage as they should. Still, the sepulchral torrent left him floundering long enough so that by the time he looked up, the burning eyes of the supersized Centurion loomed before him. Mr. Grimm took aim at the left, but before he could pull the trigger the Centurion's shout forced him to cover his ears. A mighty impact caved in his hood and did a number on the engine beneath, and while its extremely hardy construction no doubt left some dents in Agoston's hands, things only got worse from there. Loud blasts and matching jerks signaled the loss of one tire, then another, then one plus its axle. A fiery explosion shook its rear, and projectiles spattered against its chassis. In the span of only a few moments, Brother Grimm would never move again.

Mr. Grimm ground his teeth. How were these chumps tearing into his machine like this? And here he thought that measly lineup of children's go-karts puttering through the wastes would be an easy target, the last couple dozen souls he needed to make Calypso happy. But sometimes that convenience store clerk packed a shotgun under that counter; sometimes one took a gamble and lost. With his proud truck dead in the water, little more than a big metal shell staving off the enemy force's onslaught, things looked bleak, but Mr. Grimm wasn't afraid of looking death in the face.

Standing up, he put a foot on his seat, then climbed through the hole made by his Death Spawn and onto his truck's roof. He'd seen the colorful little shapes wafting off the Centurion, totally at odds with his appearance. “The little rat usin' magic t'make him big,” he whispered, and he fired his revolver twice into the air. Its noise brought all eyes to him, one man with a gun, surrounded and alone. As the soulmasses peeled off to home in on Kamek, Mr. Grimm took a deep breath.

”One hundred souls,” the man had said, fingers tented as he sat behind that penthouse desk of his in that immaculate suit. Shoulder-length black hair complimented a spotless yet eerie outlook; something about him just made your skin crawl. “That'll be my price, rather than victory in Twisted Metal. Collect them, and your wish will be granted. Everything restored to the night of your father's crash, as originally promised, with this new world a distant memory. Go out and gather followers, even former competitors, perhaps. 'The devil you know', as they say.” A sinister smile graced his features, and for a moment, Grimm could swear that his eyes burned red.

BANG, went his revolver. BANG, BANG, BANG! A Death Spawn apiece shrieked toward Agoston, Blazermate, Mario, and Geno. Then the gun issued a click, and Grimm threw it down. It clattered against Brother Grimm's hood and fell to the earth, discarded. With both fists the reaper beat his chest, and in a rock-steady bass thundered, “Bring it!”