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skype: NMShape53

Most Recent Posts

Posts coming. Possibly tomorrow
Character you have created: Marcus Hardrada

Alias: Mephistopheles

Speech Color:Dark Red
Character Alignment: Walking The Line

Identity: Secret


Approved
been fighting off some major writer's block. Hope to have something to post soon.
Character you have created: Self-educating Robotic Assistant, software version 7.02

Alias: SERA

Speech Color: Lawn green

Character Alignment: TBD

Identity: No public presence as yet.

Character Personality: Simulated personality is...difficult. While Dr. Anderson did what he could, a lot of pieces of personality from the program are missing. Much of this is due to the fact that SERA, while possessing an incredibly powerful mind and an bility to learn things at speeds almost unimaginable to humans, has no life experience, and thus has nothing to base a personality on. The previous models had pre-programmed personalities meant to be servile to humans, and this was part of the problem in their creation. To avoid this, SERA mk 7 has no pre-programmed facets except her one directive to help the Doctor.

Uniform/costume: Whatever she wants to wear.

Origin Info/Details: SERA is the seventh version of her operating system, and the first successful model. Her creator, Gerry Anderson, thought it was a good idea to design an android capable of independent thought and creativity, housed in a shell that could be used for anything from protecting people during combat to search and rescue, research assistance to companionship. To this end, he not only designed an artificial intelligence from scratch, but pushed computer hardware and software well beyond limits his contemporaries thought impossible to overcome. SERA is programmed around a composite imaging of several brainwave patterns, and housed in one of the most advanced autonomous robotic bodies in the world.

The original six versions never made it out of the software stage, their programming becoming unstable and bug-ridden well before then. Number seven, however , while showing errors, also managed to self-correct those errors. The number of knowledge bases Dr. Anderson had added to the memory system had contained enough skill to do so, but that same capability had terrified Anderson. He installed the system in the body, then shut it down and locked it away, adding a key that would activate the thing only in case of extreme emergency.

SERA woke up to find the Doctor's body, one hand still clutching at the keyboard he had used to activate her, having died from a rapid series of strokes at the age of eighty-five. And now she is loose, with no one knowing anything about her.

Hero Type: Other: Android

Power Level: World/City

Powers:
Multi-processor – SERA runs on a eighty-three core quantum computing processing unit, with superconducting materials and supercooling to prevent problems, stored in her chest. This CPU allows her to think and process things faster than most people can imagine, and gives her plenty of room to devote to subroutines and programs if she needs to.

Internet access - While she doesn't have an internal ISP, she has a state-of-the-art wifi receiver and can brute force her way into most civilian networks in seconds from a considerable distance.

Knowledge base – With upgradeable storage and a link to her server in the lab, she can pretty much learn whatever she wants in the amount of time it takes to download and/or install it. While this doesn't give her access to some things, like expertise in any skill or improvisational abilities, it is a considerable resource, and getting better as more people upload lessons on things around the world.

High power – SERA has an internal generator tied to the actuators in her body, constantly generating small amounts power through regenerative friction capture. This means heat energy generated through friction of her moving parts is recaptured and funneled to a pair of ultrahigh capacity lithium ion batteries. In addition, there is a tiny fusion generator powered by air intake. This generates small amounts of radioactive waste which much be disposed of every seventy-two hours.

Semi-realistic body – The android's skin is made of millions of hexagonal plates. These plates are mounted on multipurpose sensors tied to pressure, heat, and air pressure, allowing SERA to have a relatively similar sensory input to normal humans. These can be adjusted in her software to give her superhuman senses, as well. A small amount of photo-voltaic storage in these plates allows her to simulate body heat, but any sort of examination more than a cursory brushing or touch will reveal their nature.

Rescue systems – The alloyed bones of the body are capable of holding up several tons without a problem, and small mechanisms in the hands can allow them to telescope out to help support an area of around ten feet. An internal tank of oxygen is attached to two stored breath masks in the abdominal area, which also has a small tank of fire-retardant chemicals. The right thigh is equipped with a small heater and stores a thermal blanket. The left forearm has a gas-propelled grappling hook with a thin one-hundred and fifty foot cable and powered winch.

Combat systems – The right forearm is equipped with a small flamethrower and a three million volt rechargeable taser system. Right shoulder can open to expose a small, high-powered plasma cannon that can fire three bolts before needing recharging. The recharging system is a series of pressurized air intake valves along the upper arms capable of generating plasma, which can also be discharged out of the palms in a very short range blast. The taser can also be redirected across the skin. The eyes are capable of generating small laser beams, but cannot see while doing so as it requires reversing the direction of the internal lenses. All joints can be unlocked ,reducing structural capacity but allowing them to rotate freely in almost any direction. The skin plates are capable of stopping anything short of anti-armour rounds.

(note: The plasma bolt system can be overcharged, generating massive blasts of plasma and coating the body in a cloud of burning gas. This can damage the body if pushed too high, but is sustainable for short periods. It does, however, require a software override to accomplish, and severely taxes the cooling system.)

Sensory Equipment – Sera's eyes are capable of picking up visual traces of chemical residue, ultraviolet, infrared, nightvision, 400x magnification, light filtering, and electromagnetic waves. The microphones in the ears are sensitive enough to pick up clothing ruffling at over a hundred yards, but are usually tuned far below this level for safety reasons. Chemical receptors in the nose are superfluous, most receptors are along the skin, and are as sensitive as a canine's.

Phoenix Protocol – To protect such an extremely important investment, SERA is equipped with a periodic satellite uplink module. This system will upload to a specially designed satellite system and save the current program record once per day. If for any reason the storage system in her body is wiped, this system will enable her to download back in. If the uplink fails more than twice in a row, the system will automatically instead download her to the lab, and a safety system will delete the current copy in the body to prevent any sort of clever workarounds. In addition, tampering with any internal systems without the correct encryption key put into the I/O port in her chestor in the event of the safety system deleting the AI, a self-destruct sequence will cause the body to ignite a bundle of thermite and slag itself immediately.

Attributes (Select one at each category):
Height: 165 cm (5'5”)
Weight: 635 kg (1400 lbs)
Strength Level: maximum lift over head of 50 metric tons
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: Can move at nearly the speed of sound, and reacts much faster
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: undefined
Agility: Can literally bend all limbs any way she wishes.
Intelligence: Smarter than you. Yes, even you.
Fighting Skill: undefined
Resources:
No financial resources, but has access to all materials necessary for repairs and the lab itself.

Weaknesses:
-The weight of her body, moving at the speeds she's capable of, make turning difficult. As such, at high velocity she is more like a wrecking ball.
-While an EMP won't wipe out her central storage unit where the AI is stored, it will completely disable all of the external systems, essentially turning Sera into a giant thinking paperweight until she can be repaired. This would also disable her upload link for at least a few minutes while it reboots.
-If trapped without a satellite uplink, the current version of Sera will die in two days
-While her program is built around human brainwave patterns, Sera is not human, and cannot follow things like sentiment. While aware of these sorts of things and able to plan around them, the computer is still a computer. Appealing to anything but logic is likely to fail.
-This system is notAasimovian, and does not have a lawset like people expect. This will most likely cause many to be terrified of it, given its nature.

Supporting Characters:
Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?: Nyet, in Soviet Russia, RPG board posts picture on you.


approved
Character you have created: The Saint

Alias: Jimmy Desantos/Jimmy the Saint

Speech Color: Normal

Theme:


"It takes a whole lotta hurt
Therein lies one of life's biggest lessons
Ain't got nothin' to do with deserve
Just pray to the Saint of Lost Causes"

-- Justin Townes Earle


Character Alignment: Walking the Line... ish.

Identity: Secret

Uniform/costume: No uniform or costume.

Origin Info/Details:

The Saint's true origin is mysterious and unknown. His early life is a mystery. After dropping out of high school, he enlisted in the Army and was soon drafted into special forces where he excelled. He joined special forces just as the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were started and worked in the Middle East as a solider, eventually becoming a contract employee of the CIA. It was during his time with the CIA did he receive the codename Saint.

After a redacted incident in Northeast Afghanistan, The Saint's employment was terminated and the event was silently covered up by US authorities. Returning back to the US, The Saint didn't have to wait long until he was contacted by the shadowy criminal underworld that was desperate for his services. Now he works as a gun for hire. If it absolutely, positively needs to be killed as soon as possible, accept no substitutes.

Power Level: Street

Powers: No powers.

Attributes (Select one at each category):

Height: 6'0
Weight: 190
Strength Level: Normal Human
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: Normal Human
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: Normal Human
Agility: Normal Human
Intelligence: Genius
Fighting Skill: Mastered
Resources: Large


Weaknesses: Bullets.

Supporting Characters:

Hyde -- The Saint's go-between with the criminal underworld. For a fee, Hyde sets The Saint up with people in need of his help.

Alex Stone -- FBI agent investigating The Saint.

Mack the Knife -- Current killer for hire and ex-special forces operative.

Percy Fitzwaller -- A criminal lawyer who moonlights as a criminal lawyer. The Saint's legal representative.

Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?: Yeah

Sample Post:

Yuba City, California
1:14 AM


The Saint walked through the smoke filled casino floor. Old ladies chain-smoked unfiltered cigarettes while they worked clattering slot machines with dead eyes. A half dozen dolled up ex-strippers wobbled across casino floors on too tall heels while they dished out chips and cigarettes. The heavy make-up did a bad job of hiding the miles and the years. The Saint figured for the right price a man could take one of them home. Drunk businessmen played blackjack while geeks in Hawaiian shirts and Shriners in fez hats played roulette.

The Gold Rush Casino got its name from Califronia's past. The city sprung up in the wake of the old Gold Rush of the 19th century. Someone found a bunch of shiny rocks in a creekbed and it became a boomtown overnight because of it. Like a lot of boomtowns, a primarily male populace needed a place to spend their money. Saloons and brothels popped up across the town to serve the thousands of rough prospectors passing through to find their fortune. The gold rush dried up and the boom years faded like they always do, but Yuba City pushed on. Its origins in human desire explained a lot about the current state of the area. How could the city be asked to clean up when vice was in its DNA?

The Saint found a pit boss walking around the craps table. He had his eye on a pair of hot hands rolling eight the hard way for the third consecutive time. The man seemed mildly annoyed when The Saint got his attention.

"Yes, sir?"

"Here to see Milligan. Hyde sent me."

Annoyance quickly turned to deference. The pit boss pulled out a walkie-talkie and radioed some unseen party. A moment later, a security guard in a red blazer and slacks was escorted The Saint off the casino floor and into the back. They passed a room crammed with monitors. Every inch of the casino seemed to be under surveillance. Another room down from the monitors had its door open. He saw soundproof padding and a single metal chair bolted to the floor. That was where cheaters went, and he was almost sure there would be no cameras in that room. Based on the pit boss' look, the lucky craps shooter would soon find himself in that little room.

"Mr. Milligan? He's the guy."

The security guard led The Saint into a sprawling office. It was decorated in a very gaudy fashion, leopard print wallpaper and a faux fur carpet. Fake Venus De Milo statues flanked a walnut desk big enough to hold an orgy on. A long glass window behind the desk looked down on the casino floor. Behind the desk, his leopard fur slippers up on the hardwood surface, was Joey Milligan. Milligan looked like an extra from a bad disco movie. He wore a bright pink shirt with half of it unbuttoned, a large gold necklace and medallion caught in the steely gray fur on his chest. He also wore a white pair of pants that would have looked embarrassing on a man half his age, but made Milligan look that much more clownish.

"The Saint," said Milligan. "The man, the myth, the legend."

The Saint took a chair, a plush leopard print wingback, and nodded as Milligan took his feet down off the desk.

"So why am I being paid so handsomely to come to this... casino?"

Milligan rooted through his desk. He came up with a remote control and pointed it at a television mounted on a table to his right. The thing clicked on and, after a few button presses, security camera footage rolled on the monitor. Four minutes worth of footage, all of it taken at different parts of the casino at different times over the past month. The Saint noticed the pattern before Milligan even opened his mouth.

"Notice something?"

"It's the same two guys in every shot," said The Saint. "They're always dressed differently and on different nights, but always at the casino and never together. Casing the place?"

"That's what my security guys think," said Milligan. "They've been here a long time, well long for case job. That's got me nervous. Something may be coming very soon. I want you to case the casers. Find them and make them pay for even fucking thinking of trying to rob my joint."

The Saint nodded his head and started to stand.

"I'll be on the floor if you need me."




"Twenty-two. Bust."

The dealer slid the chips across the green felt of the blackjack table with one long, lanky arm. The fat man at the table let out a sigh as he watched a few hundred dollars in chips disappear down a slot to the dealer's right. Two chairs away, The Saint stood firm on eighteen and waited for the dealer to flip his card over. It was already showing a queen of diamonds, so it came as no surprise when the dealer revealed an ace of spades.

"Twenty-one. House wins."

His chips disappeared down the chute. That made a even grand he lost at the tables since he'd hit the floor earlier this morning. That was okay. After all, he was playing with house money. He took the chips he had left in his hand and stood, throwing a small token of appreciation to the dealer as a tip, and walked the casino floor. Despite being there for over nine hours, The Saint still recognized plenty of faces from this morning. He would stake the chips he had left that plenty of people had been here for nearly twenty-four hours.

They all had the same look, as if they were slightly unhinged. Their eyes were too wide, they radiated something he knew was dangerous: Hope. Hope had no place in a joint like this. This was where hope came to die, but still suckers lined up around the block to let the house take their money. That was because they all believed in that dream that this country sold wholesale. They all played games rigged in the house's favor, but as long as that small glint of hope remained they would keep coming to the tables until they had nothing left take. In many ways, this dingy little casino with its clouds of cigarette smoke and people looking to score easy money was America in a nutshell. The games in these walls were just as rigged as the big game outside, but as long as people ate it up the house would always take and it would always win.

The Saint walked the floor, glancing up to the long glass pane above the casino. Joe Milligan's god's eye view of the casino he lorded over like a king with horrible taste. Out the corner of his eye he saw the man he first noticed two hours ago. He was a redhead with a thick ginger beard and a navy blue suit and white shirt, no tie. He was groomed but The Saint saw the tattoos from a mile away. They were on his knuckles, a single letter on each, that spelled out LOVE on his right hand, HATE on his left. He was one of the men in the security footage Milligan showed him. While the security footage helped, he had made him as a caser right off the bat. He wasn't too obvious with the way he watched everything going on around the casino floor, but he wasn't subtle enough to elude The Saint.

He slid up to the roulette table where the man was putting a bet on 28 Black. The Saint laid down a bet on 17 Red just before the little ball went into the spinning roulette. He stared at the table and only discretely glanced at the man out the corner of his eye. His hair was recently cut, the tanlines around the back of his neck made it obvious. They both lost money when the ball clattered into 22 Black. He stayed and played a few more spins while his target took his money to the blackjack table.

After a few more hours of playing, the man left. He spent all his chips, nothing to cash out at the teller's cage. The Saint waited a few minutes before leaving behind him. He was leaving the casino parking lot in a red sedan as The Saint stepped out into the evening. He got in his rental car and caught up with the sedan on the parkway, speeding east away from the coast and towards the interior of the state. The Saint lit up a cigarette and kept a long leash on the car, especially as traffic began to thin and the city disappeared into the distance. The car took an off ramp at a town called Nelson, some thirty miles outside of the city. He followed and kept going as the sedan pulled into a dilapidated gas station.

The Saint doubled back and parked the car down the block, the lights off, and watched the sedan idling at the gas station. A few minutes later, a roar filled the air and six motorcycles raced down the street and pulled into the gas station. Six burly bikers dismounted their bikes and walked over to the sedan as the caser got out. He talked with the bikers about something. In the dim light, The Saint caught a glimpse of the leather cut one of the bikers wore. Horde MC stood out on the top of the jacket.

"Shit."

The Horde was among the baddest biker gangs in America, especially out west. They cooked and sold crystal meth to rednecks, sold guns to Mexican cartels and LA gangbangers, massacred rival MCs, and terrorized the communities were their chapters formed. And now, it appeared to The Saint, casino robbery was about to be added to that list.


Approved
Working on some stuff. I've had a pretty rough week and a half or so, but I'm getting back to work and hope to have some posts up very soon
Heh. Well, I'm glad the finished product is palatable, because it certainly feels like a battle on my end.


I know the feeling. I've been feeling the same way with my stuff lately
agreed, I've been enjoying it
Got some work done in a collab, and I'm looking at a couple other things that I need to do. Possibly including the end of the season stinger to give you an idea of what's to come next season...
I'll be working on some stuff this weekend.
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