Robeatics

Kid

Just play some jazz on your phone and press it up to her stomach, he'll be running out.

So here's my cat.

I periodically get overwhelmed with love for my cat, so here she is.



Her name is Minnie and this picture is huge as hell.

Google Picture War

Google Picture War

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

I probably feel worse for Lost Haven, though. Why does anyone still live there?!

@FacePunch

For the much larger chance of inadvertently gaining superpowers as compared to other cities?

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Thanks for clearing that up, it really helps with fleshing out my own character and how she views the world around her. I'd like to think she got her powers just before D-Day, but couldn't control them well enough to get in on the action.

Speaking of which, I noticed the timelines for everyone's characters seem for the most part self-contained, what time of year would the "present" be?

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

The dealer was a skinny bastard, though decently dressed and clean. He nodded habitually in conversation, bobbing his head as Taylor approached. “Been waiting to hear from Nan,” He said, nervously glancing around and stepping toward Taylor, out of the streetlight. “Got a new shipment of Hypo for your better-paying customers. They got Icon envy, just give ‘em this. Gives you a nice little rush for a couple minutes, but I’d be careful with the dosage, it gets you fucked up quick.”

--

Nan cursorily checked over the goods when Taylor brought them back; it was a gesture and they both knew it, though it had become so ingrained after years of distrust that they saw no reason to stop. “Good stuff this guy’s peddling. Where’d he get it?” Nan scanned over each vial, making sure they were sealed and full.

Taylor admired the clarity of the vials the dealer had managed to pack into the slim, concealable box. The needles would have to be provided, but she figured Nan could damn well sell this shit as enemas and people would buy. Everybody wanted a little power, even if it wouldn’t last. Taylor stood awkwardly by the box, recalling the poisonous taste of pills on her tongue, before she remembered Nan had asked her something. “Uhh, prob’ly through the Coats. They don’t got too many people, but they’re selective.”

“Oh. Well, better say goodbye to batches like this. The Coats won’t last.” Nan carefully tucked the doses away, sliding open the stash compartment behind the microwave and putting them away until she can deliver them to her club. She wiped her palms on her shirt and set to serving the cake she’d promised for dessert.

”Any reason why?”

“There’s a whole lot of stuff brewing with the gangs, from what I’ve been hearing, which means little homebrew groups like the Coats are screwed. Keep your eye out, cuz’ if anything’s going down I want your buddy Maverick to put a stop to it. You and I both know a war would fuck business for months.” She stuck a fork in her portion of the cake slice.

”Yeah, yeah, I’ll crack some skulls if it keeps the peace. You gotta fix my suit though, I’m not looking like some thrift shop Supe.” Taylor grabbed her plate, suddenly wondering why May wasn’t in the room. She turned to Nan, poised to ask, and shut up when she saw the older woman’s cold expression.

“You’re not looking like any Supe, got it? That’s not what I made the costume for.” She set the cake down and frowned into the floor, any by her expression Taylor could tell she was thinking of her sister, killed in some hero’s fight.

Taylor scratched at the back of her calf with a toe, refusing to apologize but feeling a heat creep up her face. She grabbed May’s slice of cake and made her way to her room. The door was closed, and Taylor’s eyes met the scribbled-in gaze of a princess from a coloring book, torn out and taped up. ”Maaay! I got my hands full of cake, open the door!” Her playful tone was met with sharp silence, making her frown and abandon the plates on the hallway table.

”May? You know I hate the quiet game, c’mon.” She opened the door, and was immediately met with a bullet, straight to the gut. The table toppled over as she fell back on it and Nan’s scream rang out a thousand miles beneath the sea. Consciousness washed away like the tide sucking back into the ocean, and the lights dimmed.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Would it be possible for someone to give me a good summary of D-Day? How did the demons get in Lost Haven, who fought them, how were they defeated and what did they destroy, etc.?

Google Picture War

Arena Battlegrounds 2.0

Yet another sort of creepy arena. Who doesn’t love those?

Name: The Gargling Fen

Size: Several square miles; a massive swamp surrounded by uninhabited marshland.

Properties:

1. The Fen exhumes a sickening odor and colorful, gaseous clouds from its bubbling mudpits that spreads across the full scope of the swamp. Visibility is restricted to only about ten foggy feet throughout the swamp, and standing near one of the many mudpits renders one almost entirely blind. If one finds oneself breathing in the fog for too long—a minute to several, according to one’s fortitude—terrifying hallucinations take hold of dancing figures and twitching talons in the dark.

2. Many old demon hunters have stalked the Fen, camping for months at a time in the search for low-level demons and monsters of all sort to creep into their crosshairs. There are a few abandoned camps left in the forest, either from hunters that have run off or have been eaten, their supplies untouched. Each camp contains rope, a few tents, a dead firepit and several rusting swords and rifles. There are also a few abandoned homes up on stilts containing kitchen knives, a hunting rifle or two and basic home accoutrements.

3. While the living dangers of the swamp are potent, the truest killer is the pits of broiling muck so thick that being pushed into one without a way to pull oneself out is practically a death sentence. Even characters of great strength can be sucked under in their struggles.

4. The gas clouds are neither toxic nor flammable, the trees and vegetation have average durability, and the land as a whole is very flat, albeit mangled by gnarls of underbrush and interrupted by bodies of water both wide and thin.

Player Capacity: 2-20, maybe more

Description:


Flavour Text: No inexperienced traveler dares turn their gaze toward the Fen: a great green island among seas of cutting sawgrass and knee-high muck. Demons stalk the Fen’s stagnant pools and shadowy understory, striking at any time in howling celebration at yet another fallen fool. When they cannot conjure up a physical form from the mud and wood, they possess the boars, the insects, the reptiles; snakes of immense size and beetles larger than wagons are not uncommon in such a vicious, ever-shifting ecosystem. Daytime has no meaning to the ground-dwellers, as the trees are so thick above that little sunlight penetrates the overwhelming green. Visitors to the Fen will find no respite at any time of day, as the dangers never rest. They only wait.