Oh my lord.
Why does everyone think Roy is a terrible support type character? T_T I know I designed him to be the go to rogue, but his powers and fighting style turned out a lot more support oriented than I'd hoped. Or rather a heavy debuffer. I was thinking of adding certain types of status ailments to his attacks, but I can only think of the ones that affect him after coming out of too many teleports. ._.
Is it okay to do the status effects on the fly if a particular power is flexible enough for that? I think the natural disasters that the imps create (via the surrounding nature) would take on different effects based on what type of disaster they conjure. Such as an avalanche adding ice elemental damage, but also adding a status ailment like Fatigue. I'm iffy about this particular thing because I don't want anyone worry that I might potentially abuse it. The power itself is very particular to the surrounding environment. If you require, I can give you a rundown on what I think should do what and you can give me feedback and a yes or no on whether or not it's okay. :o It's something I've been thinking about since you brought the status effects up, but don't want to put into effect until I get your okay, Prisk.
Right now, the only thing the imps can conjure is either an earthquake or a rainstorm, which could have various effects depending on who takes advantage of it. Of course, these status affects will definitely affect everyone caught in it, which should be eventful, but Roy is careful when his friends are concerned.
The more I think about it, the more I see Roy as a very combo oriented character, which I think ties him down more as a support than anything else. Actually, I think I like the combo aspect of this particular power more than anything else, in regards to everyone's elements and powers. Such as Jinxed (Rainstorm) + Thunderclap to give Olivia a giant conduit over a bunch of enemies. All of this done in a controlled environment, of course. *cough*
If I have to chose between one or the other (and I definitely don't mind that) I am happy to chose the combination element over specific status effects for specific disasters. I don't really see Roy being extremely useful without anyone else to follow up on his particular attacks, either and it goes for both the combo aspect and the status effect one. I think he gives people openings to attack rather than being an outright damage dealer. I might be thinking about this too hard, but I like thinking of creative ways to fight enemies other than the usual bash 'em, smash 'em, blow 'em up wif magic.
TL;DR: I am rambling. I want to know if I can add status effects to certain disasters instead of giving the Jinxed power a specific set, such as an earthquake adding fatigue or a large mist adding darkness. Or whether I should allow it to be open for combos with other powers such as Olivia's Thunderclap and a Rainstorm, etc. Dunno how it'll work out well, especially now that I look at everyone's damn powers and notice not a lot of things can actively combo aside from the obvious Water + Lightning = Instadeath or Water + Kat = Infinite Resources. Maybe a Aaron and a Tornado = Giant Fire Spout. I'll have to think more on it.
Man, I ramble even in my TL;DR's.
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Cpt Toellner said
Well of course, the Alliance uses Batarian babies to power their ships.
Only the finest babies can fuel the finest ships.
Well, okay den... make me feel bad about Roy/Thael. MAKE ME FEEL BAD.
Q_Q
Granted, Roy is convinced there's a timer on their relationship and that, at the end of it, he'll do something extremely stupid because he does stupid things and that'll separate them. Mega Sad Panda. There is hope for Freddy... maybe? I don't know. The story will has to pan out and, then again, the Roy/Thael romance is just a side thing that I'm certain shouldn't have too much of the focus put on it. *Cough* Oz and I shall do our best not to make it a focal point.
Q_Q
Granted, Roy is convinced there's a timer on their relationship and that, at the end of it, he'll do something extremely stupid because he does stupid things and that'll separate them. Mega Sad Panda. There is hope for Freddy... maybe? I don't know. The story will has to pan out and, then again, the Roy/Thael romance is just a side thing that I'm certain shouldn't have too much of the focus put on it. *Cough* Oz and I shall do our best not to make it a focal point.
This bid for revenge was petty and unbecoming. A young Loral starting on his pilgrimage so many years ago would have been appalled by the extreme differences between then and now. He would have been ashamed to know the self-righteous Loral had stooped low enough to resort to needless torture and crime to get what he wanted. That, at the mere mention of being affiliated with Saime Industries, he was willing to commit atrocities for a petty vendetta. What was worse was the fact that he was just grasping at straws. People died looking for medical attention because he wanted closure. And for what? A bit of useless information and a few scrubbed bank accounts. He'd peddled them off to gangs and nameless mercenary bands who had a bone to pick with Saime, though it was useless and ended in failure more times than not. No one bothered to trace those transactions back to him because they either didn't survive the ordeal or it increased their need for vengeance. Mindless cretins.
Credits were credits.
Siame Industries certainly didn't hire idiots, which made a task like this a whole lot harder. One quarian, no matter his expertise, didn't quite have the potential to take down an army and he certainly wasn't fooling himself either. But, Saime, when they'd destroyed the small trade ship he'd made a home in, set Loral back years in his research. Alone without a ship, Loral had no way to get back on his feet aside from making money off of the info he'd garnered from time to time and the people who came in for actual medical attention. If Loral was anything, he was careful and he was stubborn, and any traces of—there was no use lying about it—murders he committed were taken care of with utmost efficiency. Call him paranoid, but Loral liked to keep what law enforcement there was on Cartegena off his back. Along with that, he continued his search for any incriminating info or any info that could get him closer to Siame. What he'd do when he got it he didn't quite know, but it had something to do with getting enough money or equipment and materials to get him back on track.
However, all that carefulness paid off. That, and being the sole survivor of a Saime Industries assault gave people the idea that he might be looking for some kind of pay back, or was at least upset enough to want to help someone enact revenge. Why else would he have responded to a call to arms of some sort. If one could regard a bunch of criminals and pirates gathering to take down a powerful and influential corporation as a call to arms. Loral couldn't complain, however, as this was exactly what he'd been hoping for, waiting for even.
A Few Hours Prior to the Meeting
"You'll pay, or you can find another doctor to harass," the mechanized trill of a threatened quarian resounded in the small, makeshift clinic, "or I can just kill you, if that makes this easier,"
A chuckle followed and the batarian situated on the counter top hopped off. "How about you fix me up and I won't drag you off to mine for my people, puny quarian. You won't survive a day."
Loral made no sound, and simply took the gun he was holding and aimed it lower, a knife prepped in his other hand. The blade scraped along the edge of the table behind Loral, filling the room with an incessant screech. The batarian gritted his teeth every time metal hit metal. "Do we have a deal?" he growled and advanced, hands in a tight fist. Loral's jitters and need to move always gave people the impression that he was perpetually anxious and unsure of himself. He'd proven countless assailants wrong, and this man was no better.
Before the batarian could close the distance and act on his threat, Loral shot, the bullet lodging itself deep into the batarian's thigh. He cried out and collapsed, clutching his leg as the pain shot up his body. Eyes squeezed shut, he'd opened them to find the hazed figure of a quarian standing above him. Loral trained his gun on the batarian's head, allowing him to see clear down the barrel. The knife couldn't find a surface, but it was replaced by the clicking of the gun's safety. The batarian groaned in protest, but made no move to stop him as the pain overwhelmed him.
"I'll add that to your bill?" he said, "Or is the previous wound your limit. If so, I'm afraid I don't give handouts, especially not to people who threaten to sell me into slavery."
The batarian gave a pained nod. "You're scum."
"Is that a yes or a no?" he clicked the safety off his pistol one last time, waiting as the batarian was visibly struggling with the decision. If there was a race more prideful than the batarians, especially when it came to aliens, this was a prime example. This man was actually contemplating whether he'd rather die by the hands of an alien or have his life saved by one. Impatient, Loral gave off a warning shot, barely grazing the back of the man's head and then resumed his incessant click of the safety.
"Yes, yes," he said in desperation, taking a moment to curl further into the fetal position.
"Good." Loral gestured at the makeshift cot in the corner, "get on the bed; I have a meeting to get to in a few hours."
Present - The Meeting
It was never a matter of whether or not Loral could hold his own in a fight—aside from the fact that he probably could give at least supporting fire, if not more—Loral had a set of skills that was useful to any type of crew, whether it was filled with a bunch of bloodthirsty krogans or biotically dominant, asari commandos. The fact that his prowess in a gunfight was at least on par with a colonial militiaman helped, if not a little. If they had an anatomy of any of the known species in the galaxy and provided their wound wasn't just a gaping hole in their stomach, then Loral could patch them up. That's where his expertise laid; it was at least enough to garner the attention of a small pirate gang looking for help. Whatever they wanted to call it didn't matter to Loral. A paycheck was a paycheck and he was certain he'd at least be safe from the heavy firefights, if not simply thrown in the medical bay for the eternity of the mission. The thought made him groan quietly as he made his way through Cartagena station. If there was anyone who wanted to find actual, solid ground it was probably Loral. Being cooped inside a space ship for the entirety of his life and then finding the pleasures of solid ground and wide open spaces gave Loral a small rush of excitement. The thought that this could be his chance excited him even more. But what reeled him in was the thought that he could get closure and possibly further his research—research he'd devoted his life to.
The batarian that sought him earlier had paid in full and promptly left without much fuss, obviously healed, though he left as if he'd suffered a worse injury than the one Loral physically gave him. Patching him up was simple, though his hands were still stained with the red of batarian blood. It was sterilized—he'd not have left if they weren't—but quarian suits tended to stain like any other fabric. In short, he'd not had time to wash it and it evidently irked him from the way he rubbed his hands together every two seconds. He sooner forgot about it than he realized and was scuttling through the station with his bloodstained hands near his helmet like he just regretted murdering someone. It gleaned more than a few concerned looks, though most people on the station tended to mind their own business, however odd it was to find a quarian running manically through a batarian controlled station.
Like every other person, he'd been given direction to the inn they were to meet at, which was a few floors below where he set up his small clinic. The neon sign that hung over the entrance was loud enough to grab Loral's attention the moment he turned the corner. Finding his way in, the receptionist pointed him in the direction he sought and gave him the room number. She seemed adamant enough about not wanting to know why that many people were gathering in said room and he'd made an effort not to push her further.
Stepping in, he almost regretted his decision enough to immediately walk out. The sight of these types of people rubbed Loral the wrong way; to think he was on their level was a mix of fright and excitement. Of course, he was a medical technician, so whether he was a criminal like them or not probably didn't matter. It was just a matter of whether or not he could do his job and whether or not he would do his job for these particular people. For Loral, the answer was yes.
After the door slid shut behind him, Loral made for the nearest empty chair and kept to himself. There was no reason to talk, so he didn't, and rather resigned himself to observing everyone from behind his visor. Loral's visor was thick enough to keep what would be blatant staring concealed. His eyes fell on the hunched over turian who looked more out of place than he did, though he couldn't quite understand why. He didn't make a move to pry any further and simply averted his attention to who he assumed to be Tanya Carson and Kosso Irak, the two who'd assembled the motley crew, and waited as quietly as he could, though his hands found the table to his side to be too appealing. The tapping filled the room, though Loral took no notice.
Credits were credits.
Siame Industries certainly didn't hire idiots, which made a task like this a whole lot harder. One quarian, no matter his expertise, didn't quite have the potential to take down an army and he certainly wasn't fooling himself either. But, Saime, when they'd destroyed the small trade ship he'd made a home in, set Loral back years in his research. Alone without a ship, Loral had no way to get back on his feet aside from making money off of the info he'd garnered from time to time and the people who came in for actual medical attention. If Loral was anything, he was careful and he was stubborn, and any traces of—there was no use lying about it—murders he committed were taken care of with utmost efficiency. Call him paranoid, but Loral liked to keep what law enforcement there was on Cartegena off his back. Along with that, he continued his search for any incriminating info or any info that could get him closer to Siame. What he'd do when he got it he didn't quite know, but it had something to do with getting enough money or equipment and materials to get him back on track.
However, all that carefulness paid off. That, and being the sole survivor of a Saime Industries assault gave people the idea that he might be looking for some kind of pay back, or was at least upset enough to want to help someone enact revenge. Why else would he have responded to a call to arms of some sort. If one could regard a bunch of criminals and pirates gathering to take down a powerful and influential corporation as a call to arms. Loral couldn't complain, however, as this was exactly what he'd been hoping for, waiting for even.
"You'll pay, or you can find another doctor to harass," the mechanized trill of a threatened quarian resounded in the small, makeshift clinic, "or I can just kill you, if that makes this easier,"
A chuckle followed and the batarian situated on the counter top hopped off. "How about you fix me up and I won't drag you off to mine for my people, puny quarian. You won't survive a day."
Loral made no sound, and simply took the gun he was holding and aimed it lower, a knife prepped in his other hand. The blade scraped along the edge of the table behind Loral, filling the room with an incessant screech. The batarian gritted his teeth every time metal hit metal. "Do we have a deal?" he growled and advanced, hands in a tight fist. Loral's jitters and need to move always gave people the impression that he was perpetually anxious and unsure of himself. He'd proven countless assailants wrong, and this man was no better.
Before the batarian could close the distance and act on his threat, Loral shot, the bullet lodging itself deep into the batarian's thigh. He cried out and collapsed, clutching his leg as the pain shot up his body. Eyes squeezed shut, he'd opened them to find the hazed figure of a quarian standing above him. Loral trained his gun on the batarian's head, allowing him to see clear down the barrel. The knife couldn't find a surface, but it was replaced by the clicking of the gun's safety. The batarian groaned in protest, but made no move to stop him as the pain overwhelmed him.
"I'll add that to your bill?" he said, "Or is the previous wound your limit. If so, I'm afraid I don't give handouts, especially not to people who threaten to sell me into slavery."
The batarian gave a pained nod. "You're scum."
"Is that a yes or a no?" he clicked the safety off his pistol one last time, waiting as the batarian was visibly struggling with the decision. If there was a race more prideful than the batarians, especially when it came to aliens, this was a prime example. This man was actually contemplating whether he'd rather die by the hands of an alien or have his life saved by one. Impatient, Loral gave off a warning shot, barely grazing the back of the man's head and then resumed his incessant click of the safety.
"Yes, yes," he said in desperation, taking a moment to curl further into the fetal position.
"Good." Loral gestured at the makeshift cot in the corner, "get on the bed; I have a meeting to get to in a few hours."
It was never a matter of whether or not Loral could hold his own in a fight—aside from the fact that he probably could give at least supporting fire, if not more—Loral had a set of skills that was useful to any type of crew, whether it was filled with a bunch of bloodthirsty krogans or biotically dominant, asari commandos. The fact that his prowess in a gunfight was at least on par with a colonial militiaman helped, if not a little. If they had an anatomy of any of the known species in the galaxy and provided their wound wasn't just a gaping hole in their stomach, then Loral could patch them up. That's where his expertise laid; it was at least enough to garner the attention of a small pirate gang looking for help. Whatever they wanted to call it didn't matter to Loral. A paycheck was a paycheck and he was certain he'd at least be safe from the heavy firefights, if not simply thrown in the medical bay for the eternity of the mission. The thought made him groan quietly as he made his way through Cartagena station. If there was anyone who wanted to find actual, solid ground it was probably Loral. Being cooped inside a space ship for the entirety of his life and then finding the pleasures of solid ground and wide open spaces gave Loral a small rush of excitement. The thought that this could be his chance excited him even more. But what reeled him in was the thought that he could get closure and possibly further his research—research he'd devoted his life to.
The batarian that sought him earlier had paid in full and promptly left without much fuss, obviously healed, though he left as if he'd suffered a worse injury than the one Loral physically gave him. Patching him up was simple, though his hands were still stained with the red of batarian blood. It was sterilized—he'd not have left if they weren't—but quarian suits tended to stain like any other fabric. In short, he'd not had time to wash it and it evidently irked him from the way he rubbed his hands together every two seconds. He sooner forgot about it than he realized and was scuttling through the station with his bloodstained hands near his helmet like he just regretted murdering someone. It gleaned more than a few concerned looks, though most people on the station tended to mind their own business, however odd it was to find a quarian running manically through a batarian controlled station.
Like every other person, he'd been given direction to the inn they were to meet at, which was a few floors below where he set up his small clinic. The neon sign that hung over the entrance was loud enough to grab Loral's attention the moment he turned the corner. Finding his way in, the receptionist pointed him in the direction he sought and gave him the room number. She seemed adamant enough about not wanting to know why that many people were gathering in said room and he'd made an effort not to push her further.
Stepping in, he almost regretted his decision enough to immediately walk out. The sight of these types of people rubbed Loral the wrong way; to think he was on their level was a mix of fright and excitement. Of course, he was a medical technician, so whether he was a criminal like them or not probably didn't matter. It was just a matter of whether or not he could do his job and whether or not he would do his job for these particular people. For Loral, the answer was yes.
After the door slid shut behind him, Loral made for the nearest empty chair and kept to himself. There was no reason to talk, so he didn't, and rather resigned himself to observing everyone from behind his visor. Loral's visor was thick enough to keep what would be blatant staring concealed. His eyes fell on the hunched over turian who looked more out of place than he did, though he couldn't quite understand why. He didn't make a move to pry any further and simply averted his attention to who he assumed to be Tanya Carson and Kosso Irak, the two who'd assembled the motley crew, and waited as quietly as he could, though his hands found the table to his side to be too appealing. The tapping filled the room, though Loral took no notice.
I am mildly concerned about my well being, should I be?
Anyway, I'll try and get a post up tonight. I fixed the issue with Loral infecting half his crew to make it fit better with his personality. And to answer the question 'bout Loral keeping the slaves from killing the slavers, it was purely because he didn't want evidence that the ship was taken by extreme force and that people died because of it. As long as there was no direct link to Loral and the deaths of a bunch of slavers, then he was fine with killing them afterwards. Well, maybe not outright, but... using them as a distraction, regardless of whether or not they got killed. I think jamming the guns was more out of a moral dilemma in regards to harming the colonists who tried to help, but also because he can be a vindictive sonofabitch.
I'm reading through all the posts (amazing writing from everyone, btw; I hope my intro's up to snuff!) and I'll try and get my post up tonight, as well.
Anyway, I'll try and get a post up tonight. I fixed the issue with Loral infecting half his crew to make it fit better with his personality. And to answer the question 'bout Loral keeping the slaves from killing the slavers, it was purely because he didn't want evidence that the ship was taken by extreme force and that people died because of it. As long as there was no direct link to Loral and the deaths of a bunch of slavers, then he was fine with killing them afterwards. Well, maybe not outright, but... using them as a distraction, regardless of whether or not they got killed. I think jamming the guns was more out of a moral dilemma in regards to harming the colonists who tried to help, but also because he can be a vindictive sonofabitch.
I'm reading through all the posts (amazing writing from everyone, btw; I hope my intro's up to snuff!) and I'll try and get my post up tonight, as well.
And finally posted!
I didn't want to start the battle out, despite Roy itching to. I think he's super intent on keeping Kat safe that he hadn't yet attacked. So, gonna wait for Black's response before I do anythang.. or rather Thael/Freddy/Kim going tank mode and then Kat being all Elsa on Steroids.
Also, I like duh blog. :o We can nao see into yer head; we'll have ya' spillin' plans before you know it! But, I agree with the whole protagonist thing, as I think in these types of games, battle-oriented and high-fantasy, people, especially GMs, can get really caught in personal stories. It's hard to break that mold when the games themselves, like Mass Effect or Kingdom Hearts or Final Fantasy, all surround a main protagonist with a lot of supporting characters that are essentially there to help him/her. I lied FFXIII for its forcing the player to explore more than just Lightning's story once they were all separated. Though, I've noticed it became more Lightning-centric with the recent XIII iterations.
I feel like, even though Olivia is the designated captain, everyone's going to have an opportunity to step up to the plate and take command (without actually forcing Olivia to relinquish command).
I didn't want to start the battle out, despite Roy itching to. I think he's super intent on keeping Kat safe that he hadn't yet attacked. So, gonna wait for Black's response before I do anythang.. or rather Thael/Freddy/Kim going tank mode and then Kat being all Elsa on Steroids.
Also, I like duh blog. :o We can nao see into yer head; we'll have ya' spillin' plans before you know it! But, I agree with the whole protagonist thing, as I think in these types of games, battle-oriented and high-fantasy, people, especially GMs, can get really caught in personal stories. It's hard to break that mold when the games themselves, like Mass Effect or Kingdom Hearts or Final Fantasy, all surround a main protagonist with a lot of supporting characters that are essentially there to help him/her. I lied FFXIII for its forcing the player to explore more than just Lightning's story once they were all separated. Though, I've noticed it became more Lightning-centric with the recent XIII iterations.
I feel like, even though Olivia is the designated captain, everyone's going to have an opportunity to step up to the plate and take command (without actually forcing Olivia to relinquish command).
It didn't take too long, after being accosted by Thael's brother, to scarf down the remainder of his ice cream. Internally screaming at the brain freeze that followed, he'd found a spot near the back of the group, preferring not to be associated with what was currently going on. His eyes traveled to Emily, Olivia, and the baby, immediately happy with his decision to remain in the shadows of a large oak. His eyes wandered through the group gathered there, a deep frown on his face. This was intentionally the calm before the storm, but it was riddled with so many desperate emotions that threatened to cave in on everyone. Roy didn't exactly have family to comfort him during these times; the fact that he had no idea whether or not his parents were even alive didn't help much either. There was no call and no visits, which didn't seem to affect Roy on the surface, but stung every time he looked at Kim or Emily or Thael. His sister was dead and his mother and father were probably worse off.
If these people were anybody else, he'd not care, much less he'd probably relish in the fact that this was scaring them out of their wits. The situation, though, was the exact opposite and Roy found himself anxious, as well—frightened even. What he'd said to Thael was true and even without being faced with the responsibility of leading a team, Roy was probably feeling as anxious about this as Olivia currently was. Whether or not anyone in their motley crew was ready didn't matter; that made him more anxious, but it also came with a sense of excitement. They'd essentially been cooped up in the Academy for so long and this was their opportunity to see the world and make a difference. For Roy it was more so a way to fuel his need for adrenaline than to help people, though he'd more than be dragged along should someone have a morality issue in regards to a random old lady in the middle of who knows where asking a group of trained military spec ops to get her cat from a building infested with Xenos.
A smile graced Roy's features at the thought of it, looking at Thael and Freddy in particular. If anyone stopped the group's advances just to help an old lady and her cat it'd most likely be those two. That's when he'd noticed they were leaving and Roy pushed forward to follow. The anxiety he'd been feeling still followed, but he made a good effort to suppress it enough to calm the jitteriness about to surface.
There were too many Sawyers in the world to be agitated by a particularly loud one. Almost everything said went through one ear and out the other. Even at attention, Roy's blank expression and stare into the distance was enough evidence that he was too far in his own head to pay attention to the insults and degrading comments Sawyer shot at the group. Whether someone cared or not, they were soldiers and they had a job to do. An asshole spouting insults or someone sugar coating the entire mission wouldn't change that. Upon leaving with the group, he grumbled quietly a slew of insults only Thael would hear, as he'd forcibly pushed himself against the big lug as they walked.
The entire walk there was sluggish, at best, and Roy's incessant need to get from point A to B as quick as possible led him to the forefront of the group. He unknowingly designated himself the scout and stopped only to let the others catch up. An irritated Roy was impatient and crabby, but worry about the mission kept himself from nagging at the rest of the group. He was upset himself, but he didn't quite feel a big enough ass to take it out on the others. But Olivia's call for five and need to complain grated Roy enough to grumble over toward the shade of a tree and pout to himself.
"You know, it'd be nice to get to Doral before sundown," he complained, "Before we all get overrun by Xenos with no way to see our hands in front of our faces."
He quietly watched from his seat as everyone conversed, talking about mindless things or urging Olivia to continue on. All he could do, or actually wanted to do, was shove his face in his hands and groan the rest of their small break. Mags was all too right: they were sitting ducks. But, Roy hadn't the nerve to demand they continue moving, as Olivia seemed adamant in spite of everyone's insistence. He'd just be preaching to the choir, or rather attempting to move the immovable. There was really no need to push Olivia further than she needed, as it was obvious this whole captain business was a bit of a daunting task. Asshole or not, Roy knew where the boundaries were when it came to his friends. Guess he'd just have to be content with staring pointedly at everyone.
The moment the raptors came within earshot, Roy knew what was about to occur; this would be their first battle since leaving and it hadn't even been that long. Adrenaline pumping through his body, he'd taken notice to Olivia's immediate actions—Remi had heard them long before they all had. Roy jumped from his sitting position, falling back into what looked to be a gaping abyss and plopping down behind Olivia as soon as she gave her orders. He was itching to get in, but he'd listen to her instructions only because they made perfect sense. She was their captain now, after all.
It wasn't fear that drove him, as Roy had felt that at the pattering of a dozen tiny feet and it immediately vanished in a surge of adrenaline. Roy, even scared out of his wits, lived for moments like this. Senseless violence wasn't exactly what he craved, but the danger it brought was enough to plaster a ready smirk on his face. He'd not noticed his movements then, the spirits around him converging into the earth beneath his feet as they swarmed around him. He placed himself near Kat the moment Olivia ordered it, unsheathing his rapier and looking her right straight in the eyes.
"I got your back, Kitty Kat," he said, impatiently slicing the ground, "you just do what you gotta do."
The ground visibly grumbled around the two bodies, Roy almost pressed firmly against Kat's side. Olivia ordered him to guard her and by damn would she get the best meatshield outta him than anyone else. He was prepped and ready to go, waiting on those assigned front line duties to get into action. The moment Kat would reveal her spirits would be the moment the raptors would spring into action, eyes set on the literal glass cannon in the back and he'd be ready with his imps to stop 'em in their tracks to give Kat a big enough opening for one big swathe of ice. The thought sent waves of energy through Roy's body and he skipped in place, looking more than ready for the action heading their way. If he was actually ready or just stupid was up for debate.
"Let's go, let's go," he cried. The imps around him were as itching to go as he was, the spirits crumbling the earth around him, throwing dust and rocks into the air in anticipation.
Finishing up my post, but I'm exhausted. I'll have it up tomorrow ASAP... probably when I wake up really late. ._. Because I staid up so late already. Wanna make sure it's good and I gotta add duh fight scene stuff, though the collabish with Oz helped alleviate some of the length. :P
Dervish said
No amount of shitty ending is going to lessen the impact of curing the genophage (MORDIN WHYYYY) or that heart pounding excitement of when the fleets arrive at Earth.
I. Am. The. Very. Model....
Of a scientist salarian....
I barely, I just BARELY saved Tali and somewhat Legion. Ooh, if I hadn't saved Zaal'Koris, Tali woulda been dead in a canyon and the Quarian race extinct. I actually skimmed by on my asshairs the entire ride, barely getting any of the best possible outcomes, except the Krogan one because I had that on lockdown, luckily. Only the people you couldn't save in the best outcome ever died. Like... I somehow even rescued Miranda and I heard a lot of people had big issues with saving her in her daddeh's lair. Woo, looking back on everything now, I realize how lucky I'd been to get everything in place and to have actually cared enough about certain choices to have pursued them relentlessly.
However, anyone else kinda weirded out about some of the Renegade options? I mean, in ME2 Renegade was pretty much all around badass Shepard and in the third one s/he became this cold hearted anti-hero. I mean, Renegade is an anti-hero in itself, but I think ME2 drew some pretty defined lines between Renegade and Ruthless and, from what I remember, ME3 Renegade was pretty ruthless.
Oh, and ME3 was a masterpiece about 95% of the way through and I still play through it. I've got so many hours logged into that game. Overall, it was very, very satisfying and what sequels and the ending of a trilogy should have been like. It leaves questions up with the ending, sure, but it answers pretty much everything else. I agree with Mosis that it makes you realize how much you care about the choices you made and the friendships you've forged. It's the only game to date where I've literally had to have a box of tissues beside me. I'm just glad no one had the sense to disturb me whilst my face was immersed in ME3 for an entire month. And then the Citadel DLC was just....unbelievably amazing. I thought I was done crying and then the ending of t. Omg. OOOOMG. The picture with everyone in it but Thane and Mordin and Legion (and Wrex). QQ Kaidan, despite not liking him in the first game, was literally mah boo.
Anyway, I'm gonna fix up some of Loral's stuff that you pointed out (thank you very much for your criticism, Derv :3 and good to see you again too lel) and then I'm going to try and whip up a post. Might be a bit because I've got another RP I need to post for.
EDIT: Holy rambling Rambo, Batman!
Some family things came up. Ugh, busy weekends suck.
If I don't finish the post tonight, I'll do my best to get it up tomorrow.
If I don't finish the post tonight, I'll do my best to get it up tomorrow.
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