You can apply as a singular character or as a team, but can only have up to 2 active accepted applications at any time. Note applications, which can be either team or singles.
So I was right. My bad, sorry, I was a bit confused at first, but... Thanks, Bounce 👍🏻
If there are still spaces for consideration...
E M M A F R O S T E M M A F R O S T
"Power isn’t given. It’s taken. And the world has never been gentle to those who take it wisely."
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
_________________________________________________________ Emma Frost _________________________________________________________ 24 | Single _________________________________________________________ Frost Industries | New York
N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S
A B I L I T I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Telepathy Emma can reach where eyes cannot - with her ability to slip into the thoughts and emotions of those around her. She hears fear, ambition, and deceit, and can bend perception to her will by planting illusions, softening memories, or shaping reality in the fragile terrain of another mind. ◼ Diamond Form (Secondary Mutation) In transformation, her body becomes a living diamond, an unyielding fortress of strength and resilience. Every strike glances off her crystalline surface and even the most potent psychic intrusion will fail to touch her. In exchange for this unstoppable brilliance, her emotions retreat into cold abstraction. ◼ Psychic Constructs and Projection The power to weave the immaterial into the tangible, crafting temporary structures from her own mind. Defensive barriers, constructs and traps that can bind those who threaten her. These constructs are extensions of her intellect and reflections of her order imposed upon chaos.. -
T O O L (S) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Amplifiers Often subtle, a brooch, a ring, a pendant can act as a focal point for her telepathy or psychic shielding, and useful for projecting her telepathy further. ◼ Custom Clothing Custom-tailored suits and clothing that can accommodate for her diamond transformations. Fashionable, and functional - armoured boots, gloves, and coats with subtle plating to protect her when not in diamond form. -
N O T A B L E S K I L L S N O T A B L E S K I L L S
S K I L L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Intellect Emma’s mind is a precise instrument, honed from years of navigating a world built on power and pretense. She can dissect a situation with clarity and anticipate outcomes and calculate risks. From corporate strategy to psychic phenomena, she can absorb knowledge and wield it swiftly. ◼ Manipulation She understands the quiet art of influence and how her words, gestures, and silences can shape reality without her needing to raise a hand. Emma can read people as easily as a book, finding their desires, fears, and weaknesses with ease. Her manipulation is never brute or obvious, but elegant and almost imperceptible. ◼ Leadership For Emma, leadership is both instinct and craft. She can inspire loyalty not through charisma alone, but through competence, vision, and the certainty that she knows what must be done. She is decisive, and even in chaos, carries a steady presence. -
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ -
T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...
Your average hero wears one, that which protects their identity from the world and protects those that they love. Emma Frost wears hers to control the world.
Youth is Emma Frost’s first mask. The one that the world mistakes for inexperience. They see her blonde hair, her sharp dresses, her practiced smile… And one by one they underestimate her. Every bumbling executive, every pompous board member, every sycophantic lawyer who surrounds her fails to see her mind. They do not see the way she parses deception as easily as air, that she calculates a dozen moves ahead. They do not see the diamond beneath the flesh and the cold core that will not break. This is her design.
Emma’s powers emerged in the crucible of her adolescence and even as a child, Emma sensed the thoughts and emotions of those around her. Ambition, disappointment, petty cruelty that pressed against her mind. Noise and pointless noise against the hum of a backdrop growing louder. As a teenager she began to hear secrets that no one dared speak aloud and it was then, before the world seemed ready, that Emma glimpsed the rise of a new generation. Meta-humans, mutants, and threats emerging in her playground of New York, but also far and far beyond it. She knew then that her purpose would demand more than inheritance or influence; it would demand vigilance, foresight, and a network to protect the gifted before the world could understand them. Her design required another mask.
It was Winston Frost who orchestrated his daughter's entry into a world where her abilities could matter by placing her in exclusive social circles. At her debutante ball she crossed paths with Sebastian Shaw, the Black King of the Hellfire Club, a secretive cabal of the wealthy and powerful. Emma soon caught his attention and under his mentorship she honed her growing skills further. The Hellfire Club was just a facade and was dominated by those who overestimated themselves, still, it had value. Shaw was just another to underestimate her. She put on the mask of the White Queen and moved in the shadows with the club, subtly steering its actions to limit its most dangerous impulses.
When Winston installed her as the CEO of Frost Industries over her sister Adrienne, it seemed at first like a cruel twist of fate, for what did Emma know about material and engineering? What did she know about technology and engineering? How could she develop luxury products and corporate consulting? The charismatic heiress was a poor face for the brand. This was something that Emma had quietly engineered. She had whispered into her father’s mind, shaped the words and pressed on the correct insecurities. She had positioned herself not for vanity nor petty triumph, nor for the goals of Shaw and the Hellfire Club, but because the world continued awakening to otherworldly threats. She learned to smile through doubt, to wield incredulity like another instrument of control. She put on yet another mask.
Beneath the glittering exterior of her company, and her membership with the Hellfire Club, Emma funds a clandestine network of safe havens for mutants. Her movements exist out of sight. Telepathy and manipulation are the blankets that keep her work shielded from governments, corporations, and the public eye. She protects and guides the vulnerable and gifted, not as a leader, but an unseen architect. Each donation, each resource, and each whisper of guidance is carefully calculated. Frost Industries provides her reach; her telepathy provides the insight; her diamond form and intellect provide protection.
For all of her brilliance and all of her logical foresight Emma she remains profoundly alone. Nights find her pacing her high-rise offices and the penthouse of Frost Tower in New York. Her diamond form protects her body; her intellect shields her mind, but neither can ease the ache of isolation. She can attempt to protect a generation of mutants, but she longs to take an active role in the coming battles.
Emma Frost is young, brilliant, and terrifying. An Heiress who rules from light and shadow. The White Queen taking her place on the chess board. All that matches her power is her loneliness - she walks a line between empire and sanctuary, between family ambition and secret guardianship, between the world’s many perceptions of her and her own closely guarded truth.
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
I'm never beating the allegations of writing psychics... This version of Emma Frost plays on making her bigger, and really playing on some themes I like - such as loneliness, overcoming expectation, and playing in society. I have made her deliberately similar to Bruce Wayne/Batman. Billionaire heiress with an altruistic goal - however unlike Batman, she doesn’t take to the streets to fight, she stays in her tower, using her telepathy to access her networks and influence from the shadows. The one thing that she would like to be recognised for, she can’t be.
With this, I think there’s opportunity to play with minor mutant characters struggling with some of the bigger threats in the world that is being built - but also to have conflict of course that will bring Emma out of the shadows and into the frontline should she so wish.
There's an opportunity for some Succession-esque wealth politics with Adrienne, and a chance to play with the Hellfire Club and some of its members too.
I like writing poised characters with a lot of presence and an inner world with emotional depth. This isn’t a flamboyant character, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t without tenacity and edge to play off some of the other characters too.
Oh, it’s Emma, cool... More mutants the merrier. Hopefully, I can work on my first Wolverine post some time this week. I’ll keep you guys informed, as I read everybody’s post.
Ah, I see. It’s cool. Will check your new post ASAP. Actually, I was about to ask you whether or not we want to start using special moves in our next ones. Just to spice things up a bit, not that I’m thinking of spamming them lol.
Terry’s eyes went wide. He had no idea how he ended up finding himself in a spacious, enclosed void with barely any hints of lighting, whatsoever. The brawny blonde could feel his entire frame numbing, as though he’d been ambushed in his slumber. He gingerly rose up, desperate to push through the lingering pain. But then, there was this serene yet tormented voice speaking to him again—the melodious, ladylike sound he hadn’t heard in a long while. He lifted his gaze, trying to follow the comforting echo.
“L– Lily? Is that—?”
“Yes, it is me, love. Miss me?” the voice confirmed, its echo filling the void. “I know you’ve been thinking about me lately, but we don’t have much time. You love me, don’t you, Terry?”
Terry instantly nodded, his arm around his aching ribcage. “Yes! Yes, I do, Lily! With the bottom of my heart,” he told Lily, not a single hesitation present.
“Well, then, will you do me a favor, sweetheart?”
Unfortunately, before Terry could accept…
BAM!
…A harsh crimson cane knocked his temple, staggering him a couple of feet back. With his fighting stance partly assumed, he shook his head, attempting to shrug away the pain that the ambush had inflicted. The blur in his eyes gradually cleared, and upon glancing ahead, he found a familiar British man in a red-and-white striped bandana standing across from him with a taunting grin, his grip tightening around the lengthy cane’s flimsy figure.
“Promise me you will follow my voice, as I guide you out of the limbo,” Lily urged, her reverberating voice determined. “I want only and only the best for you, sweetheart, but you can’t rest just yet. You have to continue fighting.”
Simultaneously, the British bruiser swung his cane, aiming to inflict further harm upon the man he’d sworn to defeat on behalf of his employer. In just a split second, Terry parried the cane with his wrist, avoiding its sturdy surface from busting his cranium.
“You have to fight them.”
And another swing delivered, in which Terry successfully parried once more.
“Fight the wicked.”
A wheel of flame emerged, as Terry’s ambusher spun his cane in a desperate attempt to land an attack, its flimsy figure a blur of red. With the encouragement from his late lover, the three-time KOF champion wasted no time and rammed towards his opponent, his fiery fist striking forth.
“BURN KNUCK—”
FWOOSH!
Unfortunately, his fire-laced offense was backfired when his opponent released the flaming wheel mere seconds before the fist connected, squealing “HYAHH!!” at the top of his lungs. The vulnerable Terry was sent backwards, his back close to kissing the tiled, checkerboard-esque floor.
“Gwahh—!!”
“Fight despair.”
Fortunately, just moments before he managed a rough landing, a hand had caught him, preventing his back from colliding against the floor. Was it a rescue attempt? Was it Lily’s spiritual form extending her hand to aid him? If only it was…
The pitch-black hand tightened its grasp on Terry’s face, the pressure from the squeeze suffocating him. He could hear a loud, squeaking “GUILLOTINE!!!” echoed across the void, the sound too unhinged to come out of his past lover’s gentle voice. With a maniacal laugh leaving his mouth, his bearerdragged him across the floor, his dark boots scurrying forth. He hurled the former KOF champion’s battered frame up, though before the latter could see his face, the lunatic hitman had shoved him back with a devastating front kick, the sole of his shoe meeting his torso.
“Is this the best you can do?” the unimpressed emperor questioned, gauntlet-clad hands clapped clean, crossing his sizable arms and shaking his head. “You cannot be the same man who bested me in the King of Fighters tournament. Such a disgrace!”
Perhaps, Terry was more concerned about the injuries he’d received rather than actually listening to his foe’s mockery. He gnashed his teeth, trying to stand out of his prone position, but every time he was close to standing, his weakened frame brought him back across the floor. A cacophony of noises surrounded him—those of insults and scoffing laughs. He wasn’t expecting the day when his sworn enemies collaborated to take him down in his second life. Billy, Yamazaki, and now Krauser were standing there, just watching him wither away after the suffering they’d caused upon him. But then, that same encouraging echo came to comfort him again.
“Don’t give up, my beloved. You’re almost there. I promise you that I’ll assist you in spirit, even until the end of time,” Lily vowed, a gentle wind caressing both sides of Terry’s face like a pair of cupping hands. “I believe in you. The people of South Town believe in you. You’re stronger than they think you are, do you not realize? You will make it out alive, darling, I promise.”
Terry didn’t say anything. However, he was listening. Teeth crackling, he gave Lily a weak nod before trying to stand back on his feet one last time, gloved hands on the floor propping his enormous weight. Just when he was close to assuming a kneeling position…
“Oh, no…”
The voice of his past lover alerted him, carrying a hint of fright.
“Oh my God… He’s here!” Lily echoed, referring to the incoming strides combing through Billy, Yamazaki, and Krauser. “You have to wake up, Terry! Save yourself and everyone else!”
As his strides halted, the man in white gi and broad crimson trousers seized and lifted Terry by the head, his fingers clawing through the bruiser’s golden strands. Terry flinched, held the malicious man by the wrist, and swung his legs weakly, trying to escape the firm grasp. He took a look past his bare shoulder and realized… The man who’d been holding him was Geese, the biggest hater of them all.
“Wakey, wakey, little mutt,” he scoffed, a snort spewed. “Have you softened up lately? I told you, you cannot outrun the circle of fate. Nothing will aid you in the dark times that approach.”
And before Terry could do anything, Geese had already hurled him skywards, sending him flying towards an opposite direction. Then, as his sworn nemesis descended, the infamous crime lord swung his arms to form a circle, blue trails of fire gathering around both clawing hands. Once Terry reached mid-air, Geese pulled his hands back, an energy orb forming between his palms as he released it, knocking his vulnerable nemesis through the other evil-doers and farther away from their proximity.
“RASHOUMON!!!” he exclaimed, rather satisfied.
“WAHHHH—!!!”
Terry could feel as if his soul was separated from his body when the charging palms connected with his torso. Almost, supposedly. He flew further and further away from his foes’ reach, slowly watching the void magically transforming into what seemed to be an abandoned facility. The rubbles and the broken machines made it unwelcoming at first glance, his vicinity screaming chaos and tension. Before he could stumble upon the other end of the facility, however…
SHINK!
SHINK!
SHINK!
“GENOCIDE CUTTER!!!”
Like a swinging sword, multiple crescent kicks sliced his back, their sharp, crimson outlines tearing down the sizable white star emblem by the back of his jacket. The final kick managed to bring Terry down across the floor, forcing him to kiss its metal surface.
“Urghh—!!”
He coughed and coughed, fresh crimson splashes making their ways out of his mouth. As he tried to rise out of his laying position, Terry took a look ahead of him, his widened eyes capturing a sea of motionless KOF participants sprawling along his blood-soaked path. It was horrifying. It was grotesque, reminiscent of the moments leading up to the start of his second life. Old and young, he knew all the faces all too well, yet his closest ones were nowhere to be seen despite the fact that they, too, were present. The brawny blonde then shifted his attention towards his left then right, finding the equally battered Kyo and Ryo laying unresponsively on their backs, their faces pointing at his kneeling form. They took him aback at first, despite his having experienced the moment in his first life.
THUMP…
THUMP…
When a cacophony of striding noises became closer from behind, Terry instinctively turned around, forcing himself to stand upright. He could feel his heart throbbing heavily, his face partly rearranged and every fiber of his muscles close to tearing apart. Across from him…
…a shadowy, red-eyed figure approached, exuding crimson aura around his towering figure. It didn’t take long until the shadows cast themselves away, revealing the man as none other than the past iteration of Rugal Bernstein, his hair and complexion as pale as a dead man. His presence elicited a frown and a flinch from Terry, his clenching hands trembling uncontrollably.
“You… You bastard…” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know you’ve been hiding them away from me. Where are they!?”
Rugal curled a faint smirk under his moustache, more unimpressed than he was amused. Instead of talking about Terry’s loved ones, he reiterated the same words that he told him moments before their world came to a halt.
“Heh. Such a naive individual. I was wrong about everything all these years. It appears you’ve proven yourself more troubling than I thought you were. You see, Terry, you’re the root of all the problems surrounding this place. Branches of realities were created, the cycle of violence and vengeance repeated, all because you sent a madman deep into the depths of hell. Perhaps, I’d been too fixated on the three ‘Sacred Treasures’ to realize that they weren’t even the main obstacles. I won’t repeat the same mistake.”
Terry gasped, finally realizing that he’d been trapped in the same moment where he—presumably—met his demise. Initially, Rugal spoke the first few sentences in his usual, sonorous voice until he reached the part where he blamed the former KOF champion for all the realities established after he defeated Geese in his debut. In that moment, his voice echoed with an ethereal quality, as if a fraction of Orochi’s spirit that’d been resting inside of him had taken full control over his body. He chose not to hesitate with Terry anymore. As the latter assumed his ready stance, the cartel leader prepared his ultimate blow, striking his hands out. The wind gathered around him, whiffling his long, platinum hair.
“C’mon, sucker, bring it! It’s all or nothin’!” Terry challenged, his eyes glowing gold, preparing himself to flail the ground.
The wind whirled and blew even wildly around Rugal, his gloved hands starting to gleam. “Rest well, little wolf! It starts with you, and it ends with you…” he reciprocated, then released the retracted energy in the form of an enormous violet projectile, palms propelling forth.
“KAISER WAVE!!!”
“POWER GEYSER!!!”
KA–BOOM!
Everything went white by the time the volcanic torrent that Terry had triggered with his slamming knuckles collided with Rugal’s own energy attack. And then…
Terry opened his eyes wide, awakened, his parting mouth gasping for air. He darted his eyes left and right, finding that he’d toppled out of his bed awkwardly. His cheek rested atop the floor of his room, reddening and aching. It appeared that he’d fallen face first to the floor while still asleep. Carefully, he rose out of his laying position, gripping one of the ropes loosely guarding the mattress. He dropped himself on the floor in a sitting position, then controlled his breath, one hand running around his torso in relief.
“Whew… Thank God, that really freaked me out!”
Thankfully, it was all just a bad dream—or so it seemed? Contrary to what he wore in his dream, Terry sported a white tight-fitting t-shirt and navy blue sweatpants, his long hair unkempt and a pair of socks still worn over his feet. He still held the Neo Geo Pocket Color in another hand, the screen displaying the ‘Game Over’ screen of Metal Slug 2nd Mission he still kept running even after losing the game in his sleep. The sight prompted him to pout, frowning hilariously.
“Aww, man… What a bummer! I was so close to beating Commander Kanan!” he grumbled, then turned off the handheld console, his puffing cheeks flushing comically. “Whatever! This game sucks bricks!”
Simultaneously, the exasperated Terry hurled his Neo Geo Pocket Color past the upper rope, its miniscule figure managing to land atop the mattress on its back. He crossed his arms together, still frowning and pouting as he checked the clock perching by the wall, realizing that it was barely morning. He hadn’t slept too well this entire night, after all, so he figured maybe it was time he headed back to his bed and forgot everything about the nightmare and the classic shooter game he just played beforehand.
Yawning, Terry stood out of his sitting position, grabbing the middle rope with both hands. “Yeah, right, screw you, Rugal! Screw you, Commander Kanan! Y’all better allow me to just go back to, uh… huh!?”
Suddenly, his wolf-like senses alarmed him, tingling by the back of his head. As he turned against his bed, Terry could feel something enormous was heading close to his room, about to bash the door open by force. He wished it was only a mere hunch, but…
BOOM!
…a blast erupted, sending the door’s metal panel out of its hinges. Terry, already in his fighting stance, easily launched the panel forth with a backspinning kick, avoiding direct contact with it. The panel flew back towards his ambusher, torn in half upon contact with the latter’s bionic shoulder, finally revealing himself as one of the latter Jacks invading the area.
Heavy strides drumming, the Jack unit continued to charge his shoulder forth, only stopping once Terry was near to deliver a swinging Double Axe with his folding hands. The ambush caught the brawny blonde off guard, and before he could properly parry, it’d sent him flying through the wall behind, penetrating one neighboring room to another until the courtyard was reached. Craters were formed around the walls he’d flown through along his path, awaking and alerting the guests resting within. There were also a few guests still sparring at the courtyard, equally alerted by the abrupt arrival of the mechanical shenanigans. Upon landing, Terry reeled on his back, then halted himself in a kneeling position, wild golden strands dangling over his forehead.
WHOOSH…
A sound of roaring jets was heard lingering above his head, and as Terry lifted his partially hindered gaze, the enormous machine descended with his arms striking out, aiming to drop a gigantic foot stomp onto his target. Thankfully, Terry had seen this coming beforehand, and so, he reeled to his side, letting the Jack unit’s metal boots collide with the ground beneath in a loud thump!
As swift as he could, Terry picked himself straight up, struggling to keep himself steady after the quake that the collision had transmitted. “Yo, what the clankin’ fuck, dude??” he protested, gradually raising his fists. “That’s sooo uncool! If you really wanna spar, just ask nicely like a normal person would, man… But I guess you shellheads dunno it any better, huh?”
At Terry’s quippy complaint, the Jack unit frowned, his engines rumbling furiously. He stamped one of his bionic boots forth, then hurled a hook flail, followed by another, in which the three-time KOF champion successfully tackled with his wrists. The moment the machine withdrew his fist, Terry didn’t wait further to deliver a Hammer Punch to the cheek, his knuckles bashing his opponent’s iron cranium harshly. Both the brawny man and machine began exchanging flails and kicks afterwards, occasionally connecting their hard-hitting blows with one another. The exchange lasted a bit longer than either combatant expected, concluding only after Terry crouched beneath his thrusting elbow to execute a flying, drilling, upside-down kick onto the Jack unit.
“RISING TACKLE!!”
He’d always made aware that—just like any of his Tekken fellows—the Jacks took a slightly grounded approach in combat, preferring physical blows over energy-based ones. With over-the-top techniques capable of closing the distance and defying gravity (in a cosmic sort of way), Terry was confident he had an advantage over his opponent to even the odds. While the drilling boot did connect, it didn’t, however, take long for the machine to recover from the ambush. Still in the air, he curled his enormous frame, reeled to the back briefly, then uncurled, activating the jets attached to his soles to keep himself floating. His landing was about as smooth as Terry was, the fire in his jets dimming once his boots touched the ground.
Now standing across from each other, both combatants assumed their respective stances again, their fists equally swinging close to their temples. Intending to close the distance, Terry lunged in Jack’s direction, retracting his charging shoulder forth. Loudly, he shouted his battle cry.
“POWER CHARGE!!”
However, for the Jack unit, all he needed to do was stand still, waiting until Terry’s charging form was mere inches away from his position. When he was eventually reached, the machine ambushed him with his very own shoulder charge, the collision erupting a spark of energy that slightly separated both combatants from one another. They both managed to maintain their upright stances, though before Terry could go ahead with a follow-up, the Jack unit had already bombarded him with a series of Cossack Kicks, his enormous arms crossing as he performed the dance-like assaults. The three-time KOF champion crouched in anticipation, utilizing both of his wrists to block the low kicks.
“Well, that’s a cute dance. Did comrade Zangief teach you that?” Terry quipped, close to snickering at the amusing technique.
The Jack unit, on the other hand, felt slightly insulted, mistaking the sarcastic compliment for his opponent scoffing the strength of his kicks. Opting for a different strategy, the machine swung his arms around alternately like a grinding windmill, a series of furious flails playing out. Thankfully for Terry, those attacks, too, had been anticipated. He instinctively stood out of his crouching position, leathery wrists still protecting his front, as he blocked each and every aggressive fist hurled upon him.
“Sorry, buddy, no offense, but about four or five of your kind know that exact move,” Terry quipped again, referring to the other, enormous Tekken contestants outside of the Jacks. “It’s nothing special, really. But hey, don’t give up! Maybe someday, you’ll be more than just an industry plant made by some cute lady!”
The Jack unit’s iron face remained ever-so-flat, though a slight hint of frown above his glowing eyes betrayed his expression. His Windmill Punches became even stiffer, creating sparks of energy each time they grazed against Terry’s calloused skin. Eventually, after moments of struggle, the machine managed to penetrate his opponent’s defense with a Megaton Strike, hurling a left fist and an explosive right. The latter flail, unfortunately, forced Terry to lower his pained wrists, close to cornering him to the other end of the courtyard. To further corner him, the Jack unit fired a blast out of his knuckles, a trail of smoke briefly forming around his iron fist.
“Gwahhh—!!!”
CLANK!
The blast sent Terry colliding with a nearby ringpost on his back, prompting him to bounce forth then lay face first atop the ground. Seeing the former KOF champion’s laying form, the Jack unit ceremoniously pounded his chest, believing that one target had been neutralized. Little did he know, one of the practicing guests had been standing right behind him amidst the chaos.
“Hey, clanka!” a younger blonde man with striking facepaints called, sporting a verdant overall and a crimson headband. He poked the Jack unit’s shoulder with his finger, eliciting the latter to give him a glance. “Catch!”
In one of his verdant gloved hands, the New York made wrestler gripped a steel chair, tossing the weapon towards the Russia made machine. Once the puzzled Jack unit caught the chair by its solid frames, the wrestler surprised him with a spinning back kick, his extending brown boot riding the chair further towards his opponent’s face. Both the shoving boot and the steely collision managed to push the Jack unit a couple of feet back, allowing Terry to ride his knee along his opponent’s solid front upon contact. He sent the gigantic machine back towards the towering yet shorter wrestler, watching as the latter bombarded the former with a series of backhand chops.
“FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!!”
With every chop, the Jack unit was pushed gradually to the back, the yellowish, energy outlines successfully slicing his metal torso. Miniscule electric sparks began to emerge, wires partly leaking by the slicing wounds. Like a volleyball, the Jack unit was smashed with the wrestler’s lunging elbow, launching back in the direction of the more seasoned bruiser who greeted him with a…
“ROUND WAVE!!
When his opponent reached mid-air, Terry flailed the ground, creating a bigger, wider shockwave to trap the machine and send him bouncing back towards the upstart wrestler for one final ass-whooping.
“You can’t escape!”
A crackling, purplish light briefly flickered around the wrestler’s upright form, as he spread his open hands forth and caught the machine’s hurling frame with both of his arms, executing his iconic super move. He began with a series of German Suplexes, then leaped highly to slam the Jack unit with a much exaggerated Power Bomb, the harsh impact sending his opponent bouncing and launching several feet back.
“HYPER… BOMB!!!”
As if the machine wasn’t damaged enough, Terry turned against his opponent to ready himself to execute the super move of his own, striking a similarly exaggerated pose with one hand raising overhead and the other clenching close to his hip. A light ignited around his fist, his one and only gauge stock activated.
“Are you okay??”
The bruiser’s dashing form was a blur of white, yellow, and blue, as he halted the descending machine with a wild, energy-laced haymaker. The fist instantly connected, grazing against his torso. Although initially delayed, Terry managed to deliver a follow-up in the form of an energy explosion, his extending knuckles firing at the brutally damaged Jack unit.
“BUSTER WOLF!!!”
KA–POW!
BOOM!
Finally, the Jack unit was obliterated, his shattered pieces hurling and scattering wildly around the courtyard before he could even detonate himself. His decapitated head fell right between the tips of Terry’s and the other blonde’s feet, his eyes gleaming red for a split second before blacking out in peace. Sighing, the three-time KOF champion tightened a pair of imaginary biker gloves, then pointed a finger gun at the perching iron head below him, theatrically and ceremoniously. Simultaneously, the erstwhile World Warrior champion rolled his arm, then snatched his crimson headband by force, letting his wavy bangs dangle over his bare forehead.
“Stand up!”
“Weak…”
The simultaneous celebrations were amusing to look at amidst the chaos that unfolded. After taking down a Jack unit together, Terry offered the fellow blonde his knuckles, offering a celebratory fist bump. “Nice move, kid! That was unlike anything I’ve ever seen from a grappler before,” he complimented with a genuine smile. “You and I are gonna make for a great KOF team together. Well, that, if you consider joining us in the future, though.”
The wrestler snickered, flattered, his knuckles finally colliding with Terry’s. “Nah, man, that was nothing. I was just practicing a bit.”
“You sure? I mean, it’s anythin’ but ass, that’s for real,” Terry reassured, withdrawing his bare knuckles after they hit the wrestler’s gloved ones. “But anyway, I’ve heard a bit about you. You’re Alex, right? That rasslin’ champ from Manhattan?”
The wrestler nodded, confirming Terry’s guess. “Yeah, that’s me. And you hafta be that Terry Bogard fella, aren’t you? Everyone’s favorite Legendary Wolf from South Town?”
Grinning, Terry nodded, then shook his head lightly. “Nah, not really. Kinda,” he answered Alex’s latter question, partly downplaying what he was. “But yeah, you guessed it. I am that Terry Bogard dude. And sorry if I interrupted your lil’ sparring section a while back.”
“Nah, it’s cool. I don’t think anybody here is… interrupted?”
When Alex looked around him and beyond, he came to realize that he and Terry weren’t the only guests battling a Jack unit. Several of the practicing fighters at the courtyard had been occupied by the same battle-hardened machines. Most were fellow wrestlers, and Alex recognized each and everyone of them a bit too well. Inside a squared circle across from them was a tiger-themed luchador performing a double-team maneuver on a Gun Jack alongside a pink-clad luchadora, while outside of the ring, a blonde, handcuffed non-wrestler who seemed like he’d just broken out of prison. As for Alex’s sparring partner, a silver-haired angel, she smacked a Jack-8 with what seemed to be the most electrifying move in all of wrestling: The People’s ElbowSurvivor’s Banquet!
“Jesus! Where did all these clankas come from??” Alex asked, his eyes widening at the chaotic sight.
“My guess?” Terry asked back, narrowing his eyes at each and every Jack unit combating the practicing wrestlers like it was a rumble match. “Sounds like some guy back at G-Corp is pissed off by one of us. Oh, wait!” And that reminded him of what Nadia had claimed to be doing back at the lobby, his face dropping in concern. Apparently, she did steal something from Kazuya, as much as she refused to admit.
“Well, that doesn’t sound so good. It’s that Mishima loozah all over again, ain’t it?” Alex guessed, frowning and hardening the hand that held the headband, already figuring out the possible culprit behind the riot. “I ain’t a Tekken guy, sure, but I never liked those satans. They did worse than Gill, and I despise ’em for that!”
“Gill? Well, that’s a whole other level of conspiracy, alright?” Terry chimed in. “But hey, I don’t think we should keep yappin’ at each other. We better—”
BZZ!
BZZ!
About time, his linkpearl rang, disrupting the conversation. Terry tapped its protruding surface, his finger finally getting used to how the golden earpiece functioned. Upon receiving the call, he was greeted by the voices of Pit and Zenkichi, reporting their situations. He figured he wanted to do the same after Pit asked his fellow Seekers about what they were up to.
“Hey, Pit! Hey, Zen! Hey, everyone! Yeah, it’s me, Terry. Can you guys hear me? Is everybody okay? Things have been messy out here at the courtyard, but ’least me and a fellow fighter got to tackle one of the Jacks invading this side of the Flats,” Terry reported, pointing a thumb at Alex as if his fellow Seekers could see him. The towering wrestler raised his brow, confused for a moment. “Yeah, yeah, totally! Zen’s right. We oughta evacuate everybody and get the hell outta here ASAP. Where you guys at again? The lobby? Bingo. I’ll see y’all there in a minute. But first—”
KRA–KOOM!
Terry jerked his shoulders, hands drawn over his face as he became too surprised to complete his words when a detonating noise reached out to his ear. Considering the Mecha-Zangief’s comical “Customer, look!” caution, he could tell that it was coming from the lobby far ahead of his current position. A massive quake was triggered, and the ground trembled, the sensation crawling across the partly destroyed building.
“Oh, no…”
When the impact reached the courtyard, both Terry and Alex struggled to keep their upright states steady, every scuffle surrounding them halting in unison. By the time the quake slowed down a little, both blondes exchanged glances, knowingly nodding at each other.
“Yeah, right…”
“Definitely…”
“Definitely? What do you mean ‘definitely’?? We gotta leave this place now!”
Reflexively, Terry darted his sky-blue eyes towards the other rowdy guests, shouting and trying as best as he could to alert them with a motioning hand.
“Everybody, quit fightin’ and run for your lives! The building’s crumbling!”
As expected, aside from Alex, only a few of them genuinely listened to Terry’s warning and followed him, considering their gleaming conditions. Abandoning the courtyard, the three-time KOF champion hurried towards the lobby, leading the erstwhile World Warrior champion and a group of wrestlers leaving with them. Their path wasn’t without hurdles, as they had to combat the latter wave of Jack units hampering them from going forward. His linkpearl was still activated, though, so he could continue talking with the other Seekers.
“Guys, it’s Terry again. I’m on my way. Just hang in there, alright? We’ll get outta the Flats alive. Seekers or no Seekers, nobody’s staying!” he informed the Seekers before musing: I told you guys.
@Terry Bogard I meant Captain Marvel as in Shazam, not the Kree stuff, so i'm doing nothing with Carol and Mar-Vel
Oh... I thought.
Emphasis added to highlight the applicable rule.
Thanks for the highlight, Bounce. I’ve read it long ago and I understand, which is why I said what I said. I believe I was talking about Mar-Vell and Carol as a team the other day, so it’s a single app like the Blue Beetle and Nova one by Sep. Is it still against the rule? Or did I misunderstand something here? 😅
I flipped flopped from my last idea onto writing a Carol that's something of a blend of her and one of her villains (Star).
Not saying you can't app for that of course as I'm not approved but just mentioning as I've written a bunch of the sheet I will put mine up for contention in the event you do write that.
It’s all good. You can have Carol. It was just a backup plan of mine at first because I thought Wolverine would’ve been taken-able. Funny because I thought I was going to name her Warbird, too, if I was to apply for her lol. Maybe I’d just have Mar-Vell somewhere in a distant future, but it looks like you’ve brought him up in your sheet, so yeah... I’ll just have fun playing my smol boi
I personally don't get the imgur ban. Like, they already banned all the porn from imgur, what's left to protect kids from?
Also, i'm working on my "Bailey Briggs is Captain Marvel" sheet now.
Aww, man... Lmfao. You beat me to it. I was considering applying for Mar-Vell and Carol as a duo if we’re allowed to have one more app, but it’s all good 😄👍🏻
I think Imgur hasn’t been doing so well, anyway. The last time I used it to host my recent pics, and it flooded my feed with posts that I didn’t exactly vibe with for the most part. Even when I’d blocked them, they just kept coming back like Sabretooth did Wolverine. Lol.
Seriously, just try this site’s image feature or Image Chest. They’re way better 👌🏻
It appeared that said modernish individual was the newly arriving guest whose name was Terry Bogard, one of the most decorated martial arts champions in the King of Fighters timeline. Sporting his usual baseball cap and gaudy getup that seemed to belong in the 90s, the brawny blonde entered the tavern bruised, a miniscule cut on his lower lip and dry crimson spots tainting the torn sleeves of his shirt. It was nothing too serious, frankly. This was just another Tuesday for Terry, as he’d suffered worse injuries in a bout before. Considering his condition upon entering the tavern, one might assume that he’d involved himself in a scuffle, and they couldn’t have been any truer. It wasn’t just a random street fight, but perhaps, a fight festival involving numerous competitors at once, hence his slightly battered form. As to why it was held in the middle of nowhere, he had no idea. Heck, it just occurred to him that this area existed, even when he’d been traveling the world frequently.
Dropping the duffle bag that’d been loading his shoulder, Terry took a seat once the counter was approached, making himself comfortable on the fluffy cushion. Oftentimes, he couldn’t help but observe the place, his keen blue eyes darting sideways then skywards to scan the interior. So far, nothing seemed to alarm him, except the fact that he seemed out-of-place when compared with most visitors. However, his reverie had to be cut briefly when a bartender approached him from across the counter. From the looks of it, she was about as peculiar as the other fabled patrons were, sporting a pair of pointy ears and a greenish complexion.
“Excuse me, sir, may I take your order?” the bartender asked politely.
The brawny blonde instantly refocused on the counter ahead, shooting a glance at the bartender. “Oh, sure!” he reciprocated with a slight smile, his gloved, folding hands atop the flat, ligneous surface. “Can I have some cold beer, please?”
“That’ll be a pleasure,” the bartender accepted with a cheeky wink, subsequently picking a bottle of beer and some ice cubes. “Anything else, sir?”
Terry pondered for a moment, caressing his mandible. “Hmm… Not that I can think of,” he reciprocated, then ran his hand around his toned midriff. “I’m full, though, thanks!”
The bartender grinned, tilting her head in amusement. “Ah, okay, sure! A glass of cold beer coming right up!”
As the bartender went to prepare his request, Terry continued to scan his vicinity, one particular performer drawing his attention. It was @Assallya performing what appeared to be an exotic dance, fine jewelry adorning her lithe frame. He had to admit the lady was attractive, her performance mesmerizing, even though he wasn’t exactly fazed by the eye-catching display. Not when he was already in a relationship with an equally beautiful young lady who went by the ring name, Blue Mary, who just so happened to be quite a dancer, too!
“Here’s your beer, sir.”
When the beverage was served, Terry took the sizable glass provided in front of him, turning his attention back towards the bartender. “Thank you,” he said, then raised the glass, playfully grinning. “Cheers, lady?”
The bartender smirked and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Cheers, indeed!” she agreed with a nod, but had to leave Terry to serve other newly arriving customers.
“Okay…”
Snorting in a snicker, Terry subsequently brought the tip of his glass close to his lips, taking a series of soft, deliberate sips. He’d always loved the carbonated sensation that came from the alcoholic liquid when it began grazing against the tip of his tongue. It felt oddly… energizing, never ceasing to satiate his thirst. After leaving it half empty, the brawny blonde slammed the glass against the counter’s ligneous head, the beer’s bubbling foams jumping and streaming down its broad, pellucid frame. A relieved sigh escaped his mouth.
THUD!
“Ahhh….”
With the back of his hand, he wiped the barest hints of liquid washing his lips, leaving a barely noticeable taint on his pitch-black fingerless glove. When he continued to look around, though…
…his keen, wolf-like senses tingled! Something seemed to have alarmed him, finally, and it felt like the same kind of dark energy that he would’ve sensed upon confronting the likes of Geese and Yamazaki. It didn’t take him long to track the source, his sky-blue eyes eventually stumbling upon an eerie, shadowy figure (@Varicke) perching by the other end of the tavern. Said shadowy figure seemed to attract a number of visitors, including a brawny viking in a biker getup (@Dark Light) and the prior dancer.
Traditionally, when occurrences like this happened in his place, something disastrous was bound to happen. Terry could’ve minded his own business like usual, but something had changed his perspective lately. Because the last time he hardly bothered, he almost lost his hometown to a madman’s secret weapon, and he’d hate to repeat the same mistake all over again. And so, after strengthening his resolve, he stood out of his seat, closing in on the gathering bunch.
“Excuse me, folks, what’s goin’ on here?” he asked and tipped the brim of his cap, standing right between both aforementioned visitors.
Just to let everyone know it seems Imgur has for whatever reason been blocked in the UK. This is my main image hosting website of choice, so if anyone has any recommendations for others please let me know. Unfortuantely the below is all I see if something is posted through Imgur!
I'll be catching up on what posts I haven't read this morning, and I'll get another Bat post up later today!
Aside from RPG’s own image feature, I’ve been using ImageChest lately. It functions quite like Imgur, fyi, and it even allows you to copy the BBCode link of the pic you just uploaded.
Oh, and btw, chief, I’ve wrapped up my character sheet (finally). Feel free to point out if there’s something or anything I need to change. Thanks!
W O L V E R I N E W O L V E R I N E
“Nature made me a freak. Man made me a weapon. And God made it last too long.”
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
_________________________________________________________ James “Logan” Howlett _________________________________________________________ 103 | Taken _________________________________________________________ Weapon X (formerly) | Canadian
N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S
A B I L I T I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ REGENERATIVE HEALING FACTOR Wolverine’s regenerative system can heal most—if not every—wound and injury inflicted upon his body at the velocity far surpassing that of an average human being’s. The regenerative process is automatic, which means that Wolverine has zero control over it. Initially, his healing factor only took up to hours or minutes to recover near-fatal injuries until the experimental procedure that bonded his skeleton with the Adamantium metal (we’ll get to that later). Since then, his healing factor works a few milliseconds slower than prior to the Adamantium bonding. In addition, this mutated manifestation renders him immune to all sorts of substances and diseases, as well as capable of hindering most of his tragic memories in the past, which unfortunately causes him to suffer from serious memory issues.
◼ RETRACTABLE CLAWS Part of Wolverine’s skeleton comprises of six lengthy bone claws stowed underneath the skin of his forearms—three in each. Consciously, Wolverine can draw out one or all of them through the gaps between his knuckles at any given time. Even prior to the Adamantium bonding, the bone claws were keener and firmer than normal bones, capable of piercing many arduous materials. The Adamantium bonding only amplified their strength further, rendering them indestructible.
◼ HEIGHTENED SENSES Wolverine’s senses far surpass those of average human being’s, most notably his sight, hearing, and smell. He can hear sounds from a far greater distance, see further than any or most men, and even recognize and track his target merely through their scent. However, his heightened senses can often be taken advantage of, as a thunderclap might cause him to suffer from sensory overload.
◼ SUPERHUMAN STRENGTH Wolverine’s arduous skeleton—coupled with his healing factor regularly recovering his muscles—grants him the ability to withstand unimaginable physical pressure and throw heavier physical blows than average trained pugilists can. This also allows him to lift up to 800 lbs.
◼ SUPERHUMAN SPEED While far from the fastest, Wolverine can move at decent superhuman speed, especially in combat. He can attack faster than the eye can catch up, even easily bombarding his adversary before they can land a blow.
◼ SUPERHUMAN ENDURANCE Due to his healing factor, Wolverine can exert himself physically for several continuous days without suffering from fatigue. The Adamantium bonding only amplified his durability further.
◼ SUPERHUMAN REFLEXES AND AGILITY Wolverine’s heightened senses enhance both his reflexes and agility beyond those of average human beings’, allowing him to react to any assault precisely.
◼ ANIMAL EMPATHY Honed during his time in the wilderness, Wolverine can communicate with animals on a basic level, managing to perceive their feelings and displaying his intentions to gain their trust.-
T O O L (S) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ ADAMANTIUM After a freak experiment at the Weapon X facility, Wolverine’s entire skeleton was fused with Adamantium—one of the strongest, rarest metals in the world. As a result, his bones are practically unbreakable, increasing the strength of his flails and kicks. The Adamantium fusion has also improved the strength of his already sturdy bone claws. They are capable of slicing through just about any concrete material, although whether or not the claws can penetrate an object completely still depends on its density and the amount of force that Wolverine employs. -
N O T A B L E S K I L L S & T A L E N T S N O T A B L E S K I L L S & T A L E N T S
S K I L L (S) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ TRACKING Wolverine’s heightened senses allow him to hone his tracking skills to perfection, making him one of the finest trackers in the world.
◼ MARTIAL ARTS MASTERY Due to his extensive combat experience, Wolverine has mastered a variety of self-defense methods of different martial arts disciplines across the world. This allows him to adapt to all sorts of martial arts practitioners, greatly aiding him during his stint as a cage fighter.
◼ WEAPONS PROFICIENCY Wolverine is proficient in utilizing all sorts of blades, explosives, and armed weapons, thanks to his experiences as a soldier and a mercenary.
◼ VEHICLES PROFICIENCY Wolverine can operate and repair different types of vehicles, most notably motorcycles. At one point, he was an accomplished pilot during his stint in the Canadian military.
◼ ASSASSINATION As somebody who spends most of his life in the battlefield, Wolverine knows dozens of effective methods in executing his adversaries, especially when blades are involved.
◼ MULTILINGUAL Wolverine is a polyglot who understands many languages, such as English, Japanese, Russian, Mandarin, Korean, Spanish, Farsi, French, German, Thai, and Vietnamese.-
T A L E N T (S) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ ABOVE NORMAL INTELLIGENCE Wolverine’s intelligence is slightly above normal, allowing him to demonstrate the ability to learn, absorb, and process information faster than most human beings. -
T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...
The year was 1922. James “Jimmy” Howlett was born the son of Elizabeth Howlett, the wife of the Howlett Estate’s owner John Howlett. In reality, however, Jimmy was the illegitimate fruit of a secret affair between Elizabeth and Thomas Logan, the groundskeeper working for the wealthy Howlett family. Although loved and cared by his extended family and servants residing in the mansion, Jimmy’s childhood was a rocky one, as he spent most of the time laying ill on his bed, barely able to do anything. This soon changed, one fateful night, when Thomas breached through the mansion drunk and forced Elizabeth to come with him. Furious to learn about the affair, John confronted Thomas, engaging himself in an intense verbal exchange with the groundskeeper which soon became physical. Thomas, armed with a shotgun, decided to blow John’s head into smithereens, instantly ending the scuffle. Hearing the loud gunfire and his mother’s shriek for help, the alarmed Jimmy forced himself to rise out of his sickbed and scurried towards the scene, only to be devastated by the sight of John’s lifeless form laying close to his terrified mother. In a fit of rage, Jimmy subconsciously retracted his bone claws out of his knuckles, revealing his genetical mutation for the first time. With them, he wounded his biological father several times before stabbing him in cold blood, aiming at his heart. In his dying breath, Thomas finally revealed to young Jimmy that he was his true father and not John, much to Jimmy’s dismay. Shocked and horrified, Jimmy ran out of the mansion and into the wilderness, spending the rest of his early years residing in a Cold Lake forest with a pack of wolves. It was around this time when Jimmy began adopting the name “Logan” as a tribute to his biological father.
In 1941, the Canadian government initiated a nation-wide search for every adult man with “X-Genes” for their classified military program dubbed the “Weapon X.” Logan, who was only 19 at the time, was one of the X-Gene carriers drafted to partake in the program, becoming a brother-in-arms to a fellow feral mutant by the name of Victor Creed. His stint in the army was far from humane to say the least, as he and the other Weapon X members were continuously tormented, brainwashed, and experimented on by researchers in an enclosed facility. The purpose was to improve their mutations to help Canada and the Allies win the second World War. While some like Victor willingly accepted the programming, Logan, on the other hand, chose to rebel, questioning the methods that the researchers used to upgrade their living weapons any chance he could. As a result, he became the primary subject of experimentation, receiving both physical and mental torments far beyond human comprehension. With each torment, they forced Logan to abandon his humanity, gradually leading him to insanity. Eventually, as the conflict between nations heated, so had Logan reached his limits. Despite his healing factor, he couldn’t withstand the torments and intense brainwashing much further when they began infusing a heavy dosage of Adamantium alloy into his bones. The process was extremely agonizing that it prompted Logan to snap out of the programming, causing him to enter a berserker state where he found himself mindlessly attacking several researchers and even fellow mutant soldiers on sight. Some were injured, but most were killed, including Victor’s younger brother Saul.
By the time he escaped the facility, Logan had almost no recollection of his past, as his healing factor repressed all the traumatic memories that’d been burdening him since the moment he discovered his mutation. He ended up returning to the same forest he used to reside in, now completely animalistic. Thankfully, before long, his healing factor managed to recover his sanity back, and by the time he’d regained complete awareness, he abandoned the forest to spend the next decades of his life wandering aimlessly from places to places, working as a hired mercenary and an unauthorized cage fighter to put his animalistic tendency to good use. However, as he grew older and wiser, Logan began to grow tired of living a violent life. While he still participates in local bar fights every now and then, he’s long left his old life to reside in the Canadian Rockies, enjoying tranquility with his sweetheart Silver Fox and her fellow Blackfoot tribesmen. But with a ghost from his past returning to haunt him, how long will the tranquility last?
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
Why do I want to play this character? That’s the first question that I believe we’ll all find upon filling up this exact section of the character sheet, eventually. I think—at least for me—the reason is obvious. For those who have known me long enough (obviously the guys who I got to interact with before I went to RPG), they’d know that Wolverine is one of my all-time favorites within the broader Marvel verse. After all, I used to spend a lot of my time playing this good ol’ Canucklehead within group settings similar to this, but alas, that was ages ago. I haven’t quite played him that much ever since, so when the chance is present, you bet that I wouldn’t hesitate to apply for him. Now, in addition, I’ve been a fan of him for a long time. Aside from Spidey, Wolverine is another one of those comic book tough guys who I can easily resonate with. While I’m not a century old boomer who’s been through wars and tragedies beyond human comprehension, I am—in fact—somebody who often enjoys staying in solitude just as much as Wolverine does. And it can’t help when I was something of a loner growing up, so Wolverine and his stories always touch me on a personal level.
Now, as far as the direction of his story is concerned, I’m thinking of building Wolverine’s inclusion to the X-Men gradually to focus on adapting the story where he met Silver Fox and the Blackfoot tribesmen, but instead of taking place prior to World War I, this exact angle will take place at the present day when Wolverine has gone through World War II and the experimentation performed upon him by the Weapon X researchers—hence the reason why I decided to make him younger than two centuries. The main inspiration for my Wolverine is his Earth-616 counterpart, but I’ll also take a bit from other versions outside of the mainline comics, most notably the live action adaptations. Say what you want about the movie, but X-Men Origins is partially to blame for inspiring me to go ahead and pair Wolverine and Silver Fox to start this series of stories. I also thought that the movie could’ve been told differently, so I want to give retelling it a try if this can be considered a retelling, anyway. I’ll definitely ditch and repair obvious plot elements here and there (including the not-so-mouthful Barakapool and Sabretooth being Wolverine’s brother), but I digress.
There are, of course, playable characters I hope Wolverine gets to interact with as the game progresses, especially those connected to him and/or the X-Men. Well, that, if anybody’s up for collaborations in the future. I might not be the best there is at what I do, but I hope my stories can bring the same kind of intensity that you’d find from reading an actual Wolverine comic.
Excelsior!
All formatting originates via the work ofLord Wraith
[img][/img]
[h3][center][color=FEBA4F][quote=Terry Bogard][b]“You must respect
the [u]power[/u] of my [u]fatal fury[/u]!”[/b][/quote][/color][/center][/h3]
[color=E3242B][b]Desc:[/b][/color]
— 20+
— He/him
— Straight
— Literate/semi-literate
— Multi-fandom
— Semi active
— Semi selective
— Writing Terry Bogard since 2020
[img][/img]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><img src="" /><br><br><div class="bb-h3"><div class="bb-center"><font color="#feba4f"><blockquote class="bb-quote"><span class="bb-b">“You must respect <br>the <span class="bb-u">power</span> of my <span class="bb-u">fatal fury</span>!”</span><footer>Terry Bogard</footer></blockquote></font></div></div><br><br><font color="#e3242b"><span class="bb-b">Desc:</span></font><br>— 20+<br>— He/him<br>— Straight<br>— Literate/semi-literate<br>— Multi-fandom<br>— Semi active<br>— Semi selective<br>— Writing Terry Bogard since 2020<br><br><img src="" /></div>
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