Ex_Libris

Blackknight127 - Level 8, Tech/Blaster on infinity server.

Battlecry "Hmmm it smells like chicken"

My point is, just because you have some "Contact" who tells you he knows of a werehouse he's suspicious of, doesn't mean you can form a posse, kick the door in and just start knocking people out left and right. It's called "Just Cause."

You know what's going to happen eventually? One of you is going to kick in the door of some citizen's home and kill someone. It's all well and good for you, I mean you get to hide your identity and wear a mask.

It's public servants like me that can't get the equipment or training we need because of lawsuits paid out for "Cape" assaults...

Character Name(s): I mainly play "The Ending" a magic scrapper.
Playtimes: PST Evenings and some weekend mornings.
RPing Styleepends on who I'm with. I enjoy hard-core, but am satisfied with lite.
Supergroup: None yet. Looking.

Bio:He was just a normal guy with a white-colar job walking down the street when someone who appeared to be a street bum offered to give him talent and powers if he would follow his destiny to help rid the world of the "human evil" that he claimed was predicted to start spreading through the world. The bum said would have to sacrifice his life and humanity to accept. He humored the bum for some reason as jest, but woke up the next morning (from unsettling dreams) and found himself changed with knowledge and abilities he didn't have before. He never saw the "bum" again.

Help? The Astro Creep is only in this for the fame, the money and most importantly, the "affections" of your earth women.

After about two hours of watching gang members stroll by, secure in the knowlege that flipping the bird was not a crime O'Shay was bored.

He looked longingly across the street, at the liquor store. "God, a bottle of Jamison's would help cure the tedium." He knew he had a drinking problem, and head shrinkers would probably trace it back to his father's death at the hands of the 5th Column. He should be out solving crimes, not passing out.

Michael O'Shay, his father, never wanted his son to be a cop, the same way all working men want their son's to do better. He was a hard man, in the traditional Irish manner. A tough disiplinarian. Children were not equals, they were offspring, end of discussion. When Ryan went against his fathers' wishes and joined the acadamy, his father protested. He went to run down some leads on the 5th column instead of going to his son's graduation day.

So on that day Ryan recieved two badges reading O'Shay. His... and his fathers. They took his dad away and left him with a perfectly folded American Flag, a tin badge, and an urn. Not that any of it mattered right now.

Ryan put his legs up on the desk, put the thought of Whisky out of his mind, and did the crossword. He waited.

"This is never going to work. Cops and costumes just don't mix."

Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but every notch I put on my father's shotgun is one less thug on the streets. One less meta to mess up the lives of normal, decent people.

- Martin Thorne

[ QUOTE ]
I don't know about you - but I defeat a good 150 to 200 thugs a session (not counting clockwork.) If there are 1000 heroes on my server all performing at the same rate that is 200,000 daily. Assuming it takes ... let's say it takes a week for them to be out on bail and recovered enough to start doing crime again. That is 1,400,000 guys! Where are all these kids coming from?

BTW - are there any girls that do crime in this city?

[/ QUOTE ]

There are about enough jobs in liberty city to cover 80 % of the population.

And, a week to get out of jail??? Are you kidding me!!! You "Superheroes" are bringing in gang members for simply congregating in an area, blasting them from a block away and then delivering them to the PD. If you would wait for them to do an actual CRIME they might actually go to PRISON. You can't just attack someone for being in a gang, trample their rights to free assembly, and then expect them NOT to get off.

more, more, love the story thus far, give us more!

Yeah, have you ever seen those disturbingly sexy female Eidolons?

[ QUOTE ]
<Televised Ad, similar items appear in various papers and magazines>

The scene shows a woman walking down a dimly lit street. She clutches her purse as she walks through a dark area of the street that the streetlights don't reach. She picks up her pace as she approaches the corner, gasping as she rounds it. Several men dressed in Skull gang colors and armed with bats and knives approach her menacingly. She screams for help and the scene freezes in black and white.

"Don't take chances with your security," the voice speaks over the scene with a tone of authority. "Can you afford the risk of `hoping' a hero will come to your aid?"

The scene restarts as the Skulls approach the woman; she takes a few steps back and reaches into her purse. The thugs laugh expecting her to produce a weapon but instead she pulls out a small signaling device. It pulses red after she pushes a button.

Suddenly, the closest Skull's face twists in pain and he drops to his knees holding his head. The other Skulls glance around nervously until one points upwards. Floating several meters above the street is a man in pale blue and white. His flack jacket is covered with patches of various corporation sponsorships, his blond hair is perfectly combed back and his eyes are hidden behind expensively looking sunglasses. Upon seeking him, the thugs scatter. Gracefully the man lands beside the woman and puts a heavy combat boot on the back of the writhing thug.

"Thank you, First Strike Security," the woman exclaims looking adoringly up at the hero.

"Don't take chances, call First Strike today! Corporate protection at private sector prices" the hero says looking into the camera and giving a thumbs up, his boot still holding the Skull to the ground.

Screen goes black, briefly flashing "Now hiring, good benefits. Contact ###-####"

[/ QUOTE ]


Silverback leans back from manually changing the channels on his aging television to see a blonde "hero" grinning widely at him. Silverback snorts back, a stream of thick cigar smoke bursting out of his nose at the screen.

He hesitates, then slides his thick, gray hand off of the dial. Sitting back in his leather chair, he watches the rest of the commercial.

At the end, he glances over to a rickety, half-painted chair with a blue T shirt hanging over it. Peeking from beneath the folds, a yellow starburst insignia can barely be seen. On the seat lies a team-issue cell phone.

"So, these fellas are getting paid, and the Order just gives me a T shirt."

Silverback snorts again and scratches his face. The back of his hand reveals a thick mass of hair, some shriveled and scorched--a side-effect of his cigar habits. With the same hand, he pushes his shaggy bluish hair out of his eyes.

With looks like his, he never had any use for uniforms, usually hitting the streets in a white T-shirt and jeans.

But when he joined a group... he figured he'd get at least some kind of snazzy jacket. Nope. They just screen-printed him a T-shirt.

"And these FSS fellas get PAID."

He shakes his head, taking the stub of his cigar out of his mouth.

No, he didn't do it for money, anyway, did he?

His gaze strays to the nearby wall of his Kings Row apartment. The easy smile of a middle-aged woman returns his stare from behind the glass of a picture frame.

Silverback's massive fist clenches, crushing the remains of his cigar. Its remaining embers sizzle as they scorch more hair in the palm of his hand.

No. He didn't need money. And he was going to find his mother.

And the Heroic Order didn't care about money. They were good people. They would help him, if they could.

Suddenly hearing gunshots and screams outside his window, Silverback jolts up, instinctively grabbing a fresh cigar and lighting it.

He rushes to the window, but halts, looking back at the blue shirt and cell phone.

"No, I'm on my own tonight."

He leaps out of his window, clearing the fire escape...

Lobe gawked at the oversized, metal baseball turned living machine then scratched his head, "What did he say?" he asked no-one in particular. Not receiving an answer he looked around at the group and noticed, uncharacteristically, that some of them were going through great discomfort. Seeing both Neko and Deth in distress he, following his rule of thumb - ladies first, asked, "Lady Neko, Lady Deth. Are you alright? You don't look so good. Maybe you'd like some cough syrup? My sis always gave me cough syrup when I wasn't feeling well and it would make me feel better."

When the Madness Mage got to Lobe he discovered a horrifying secret. Either Lobe was only a step above instinct, which the Mage's intelligence dampening useless, or Lobe had an ironically tough mind. The end result was he couldn't affect him, at least not noticeably. "It doesn't matter. He is too dumb to save his friends without guiddance," the Mage muttered under his breath and moved on to the next target.

For my Character Swyft, I use the following "Vengence is Swyft" Not very origional but it seems to work

My main toon is still toon. character development is just in the daemonic look/feel atm

My alt is a female scrapper in tight metalic. I was attempting to do a 'chrome' effect. Lumaril / Victory

Various keybinds:
"Hello Boys!"
"Come get some!"
"You wouldn't hit a girl .."
"you" <point emote> ".. START RUNNING"

with blatant abuse of film lines:
"They always run."
"That's kicking your ***."
"I'm ok. It's just a flesh wound."

I roleplay everyone one of my charecters, but Kate is the most fun.

name:Kate and Zull

You'll see her about either arguing with herself out loud or to herself. See she's kind of possesed.

Very cool

Starman is my favourite

11. Do not refer to the alien as a "Prober" or "Cow Eviscerator." Also, calling them "Greys" is no longer PC. Please use the term "Invading American"

You must be an Ex-Socal Cop! :0)

I have just setup a new character on the Justice server and I hope to find other RP'ers on there but no such luck yet.

Detective Ryan O'Shay opened the door, covered with Skull grafitti and sighed. The office space was small, cramped, and covered with grime. Someone had obviously been squatting there, before the Paragon City Police Department rented it out.

Our new home.

The PCPD "Working With Heroes" Committee, started by some bleeding heart vigilantee worshiper, had come up with the idea of taking REAL police officers, and teaming them up with members of the long underwear crowd. It was an attempt to bridge the gap between citizens wanting the protection of heroes, and police wanting to do their jobs without energy bolts wizzing over their heads.

The idea was that the "Superheroes" (Ryan spit at the thought) would be able to collect a city paycheck, the police could be seen as being "friendly" to the vigilantees, and the mayor could get the crime rate down just in time for election. Ryan had been chosen to head the Kings Row office.

He pushed the empty bottles of Night Train off his ratty, particle board desk, and slapped down a stack of applications.

It was going to be a long day...

No, we arn't making a difference. For all the back slapping and good jobbing, if anything, things are getting WORSE. I saw trolls in kings row, the other day, fighting with outcasts.

However, there is something to be said for being a dam. We arn't "Cleaning up the streets." But we are keeping things from getting any worse.

Is it possible to get Statesman to chime in here and settle this arguement? Seems silly to talk about him as if he were not a real SuperHero.

Two quotes came to mind when I read your post, Hailstorm...

"All that is required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."

We make a difference just by standing up and saying "No. You won't do this. Not today. Not here. Not while I have something to say about it."

Also, I remember this annecdotal story...

Once upon a time there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.

One day he was walking along the shore. As he looked down the beach, he saw a human figure moving like a dancer.

He smiled to himself to think of someone who would dance to the day. So he began to walk faster to catch up.

As he got closer, he saw that it was a young man and the young man wasn't dancing, but instead he was reaching down to the shore, picking up something and very gently throwing it into the ocean.

As he got closer he called out, "Good morning! What are you doing?"

The young man paused, looked up and replied, "Throwing starfish in the ocean."

"I guess I should have asked, why are you throwing starfish in the ocean?"

"The sun is up and the tide is going out. And if I don't throw them in they'll die."

"But, young man, don't you realize that there are miles and miles of beach and starfish all along it. You can't possibly make a difference!"

The young man listened politely. Then bent down, picked up another starfish and threw it into the sea, past the breaking waves and said --

"It made a difference for that one."

Maybe we can't push all the crime out of Paragon City. But I did make a difference to the woman that I saved from having her purse stolen. And the guy I saved from the rituals of the Thorns. I don't try to think that I can irradicate the 5th Column. But I can make sure that the one base that I was told about gets cleared out and doesn't become a stronghold for more of their radical agenda.

Do we help? I remember once, when I was named Regina.....I remember Regina's fear of gangs...of people destroying her work in Perez Park, before so much of this trouble started. I know Regina would say we help, the hope we bring is more valuable then anything- a hope for tomarrow.

-The Grey Lady

We are those who see what others cannot for we are those who are what they cannot see. We are what they cannot be. Secret Identity!
Greetings and Salutations. I am the CEO of the company. Here at SI we have one Golden Rule. That is to roleplay. We invite all roleplayers of the dark and of the light, natural, mutant or alien...all of you. We don't share an illusion of one big happy family. We instead focus on sharing our experiences, our anguish, our love, our pain. Bring your drama and enrich our pages with tales of peril or enmity. Bring your family and share your joys and celebration. Even brood quietly in a corner, observing all and secretly plot for your own ends...
As a corporate leader, I am only interested in the well being of our business. Our aim is to be the recognized force against super-villainy. We strive to make Paragon City safe. Why did I leave Crey Industries and form this "non-profit" organization? I have my reasons, and you have yours. One of our unspoken rights and promises here is to maintain and protect our secret identities. That is what I can offer you. We spend a great deal of resources making our heroes welcome...and anonymous.
Care to fill out an application? Visit us at http://pub84.ezboard.com/bthesecretidentity


VAIN ALIAS
I know you want me, there is no denying that and I will try to give you as much as I can, but there is simply not enough time for me to get to everyone! I can give you life, it’s true. I can heal with a touch, I can seduce with a smile. I’ll charm you with chat all the while. I’ve always been gifted, it’s not really important why. What is important is what I do with it. I may be Vain, but I have reason to be. I may be Vain, but I am sensitive and I treat my friends with care. I love them after all and I want to do everything I can for them. But I AM a corporate leader. I have to make tough decisions and I never let my heart get in the way. I’m a man of the people and if I can find you work, I will. If I can save you some trouble or time, it’s done. But don’t ever look for me to help you if you can’t see your way to helping others.

Sullen, Mutant Blaster -First Strike Security-

Pile, Magic Tanker