Techbot Alpha

CoH is a Super Hero/Villain game. I see no mention of comics anywhere. So that argument is still so much guff as it always has been.


And...well, it's still bloody stupid in comics. Seriously, it's stupid. Doesn't matter what medium it's in. You can say 'Oh, it's based on X where they do it too!' as much as 'you' like; stupid is still stupid.

Well said Zwill, and thank you for that at least. Still, an option to go back to the older skins would be nice, at the least. How hard would that be, exactly?

I personally preferred having States and Recluse up there. That was, in fact, my all time favourite. It rocked.
Make it an option, please?

It'd be nice to have the current 'swimwear' options, i.e. bikinis for women and speedos/shorts for guys as non-body paint options... The Boxing set shorts make good trunks, at least.

Both trial-locked costume parts annoy me on principal, moreso thanks to their stupidly stupidly stupid chance of stupid drop rate.

As if the Ascension armour wasn't bad enough...

I have to say, I like the look of this.

Other games lose momentum and fall by the wayside.
CoH seems to just keep getting better and better (with, admittedly, a few speed bumps along the way )

Kings Row apartment block, 5/5/2012, 21:37pm

Samantha Christophe had gone home earlier than normal, for an evening of take away Up-And-Away burger, fries and an old movie or two. The apartment was as much a tip as ever, with a steadily growing stacked pile of take-away boxes mixed with plates that had held meals that were at least making an attempt to be more healthy stood by the sofa. Sam currently occupied it, lounged out like a cat, with a tray on her stomach, dressed only in an old black tank-top and some grey boxer-shorts.

So it came as a mild surprise for the door buzzer to go, especially given the time. With a curse and stream of grumbling the reporter moved the tray to the table and traipsed to the door. Where she promptly began peering through the peep-hole.

There was no one on the other side. A quick check at floor level also showed that no one was simply crouching out of sight. That caused a raised eyebrow.
A moment later the three bolts and one security chain all slid back, and the door eased open.

There was a metallic humming at head level, before something embedded itself in the far wall. The thrower, a man in a full black bodysuit who was suspended from above the outside door-frame, frowned, before backflipping to the floor and moving slowly into the apartment.
Where the door was promptly slammed on him, crushing him agonisingly between the frame and old but tough wood. Before he could scream he was dragged out and thrown face-first into the wall, with the door slamming shut behind him.

Sam clenched and unclenched her fists, looking from the unconscious assailant to the shuriken throwing star embedded in the wall behind where she had been standing before opening the door from the coat-hanging alcove.
“Oh, you are kidding me…!”

Both windows shattered inwards, two more men in black taking stances as they rolled upright. Even as Sam’s eyes went wide they charged, screaming in what sounded like Japanese. Or, at least, what someone who had only ever watched action movies probably thought Japanese sounded like without even bothering to do research.
The first one swiped at her with a pair of Sai, shouting incoherently. Sam dropped into a crouch, punching him in the gut as she rose followed swiftly by a hard knee to a more sensitive area. The man dropped like a weighted sack, weapons falling to the floor.
The next was at least a little more versed in actual fighting, although he still seemed to be far more influenced by style than practicality. He managed to land a good punch to the chest that nearly winded her, then made the mistake of trying to round-house kick her. She caught the leg, twisting at the waist and slamming him viciously onto the low coffee table, which shattered under his weight. The would-be attacker tried to rise, until the woman landed knee-first on his chest and proceeded to punch him in the face until he blacked out.

Sam managed to pull herself upright, nursing a sore set of knuckles, to hear the kitchen window shatter as well. Turning, she was confronted by a man wielding an honest-to-god sword.
“Your life is forfeit, Christophe-Chan!” he growled, walking forward while swinging the blade with at least some measure of skill.
“Come on, you have got to be kiddi-” Sam went to say, before she had to leap to one side to dodge the overhead swing of the blade. Now she actually had to be properly on guard as, while the man was clearly no Eastern master, he was at least skilled enough to get the blade to go where he wanted it to.

She ducked sharply to avoid a cross-cut, but had no time to counter as her opponent followed through with an over-head stab to the floor, causing her to roll aside. Even as she staggered upright he managed to spin, managing a shallow cut right across her stomach that caused her to stumble and fall beside the shattered coffee table and it’s unconscious occupant, hissing in pain through her teeth.
“Prepare to die, Christophe-Chan,” the man stated, stepping closer and raising the blade to impale her.
“Ok, first off, it’s Christophe-San if you’re even trying to be halfway accurate,” Sam snapped back, “Secondly, ‘Haaai, odishi naga noto haaa!’ is not Japanese and makes you sound like a pack of morons. And thirdly,” she jabbed an accusing finger, “that is a Chinese Dao, not a Japanese ninja blade, you @$£# head!”

The man froze, before lowering the sword and examining it almost frantically, as if somehow looking at it would make untrue the fact the sword was not, in fact, the weapon of even a Hollywood shinobi.
“Well, ok, but it still-” he grumbled, turning back to her just in time to catch a swung meal-tray across the face. The would-be ninja stumbled back as the tray snapped in half, even as Sam leapt on him like an angry cat. There was a moment of grappling, followed by a sickening snap and a scream of pain as Sam broke the man’s sword arm, the blade falling from limp fingers. He whimpered as she slammed him into the wall, holding him off his feet by two handfuls of vaguely black bodysuit.
“See? SEE?” she screamed at him, teeth bared and eyes wide, “Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean I’m not bloody right! Who sent you?!” She waited a moment while the man frantically shook his head, before headbutting him out cold.
“You can shoot me for all I care!” she shouted to the world in general, “I’ll just spit your damn bullets back in your face!!”

A few minutes later and the four cut-price ninjas were trussed up on the wreck of the coffee table, bound with some spare bungee cord. Sam was sat on top of them, with her tank top off and a band of bandaged now wrapped around her stomach, a cigarette in one hand and the phone in another.
“Hello? PPD, yeah. Want to report a break in and assault. Uh, yeah, I’m fine, or else I wouldn’t be ringing. Yup, still here, ‘contained’, yeah…Description, well…” she trailed off, glancing down at her seat, “Ahh, I think it’s best if you see for yourself. Because I doubt you’d believe me.”

After she hung up and waited for the sound of sirens, Sam cursed quietly as she flipped over and over between her fingers the one item of ID she had found; a Business card for a ‘discount ninja’ service, with her name on the back of it and the initials ‘DM’.
“I’m going to have to move. Again.”

Underwater doesn't need shooting down when it's been dead and buried for so long, with good reason. I guess I can't take my archer or fire characters down there, hmm? Dern, skippeh!

As for vocals? Dear god, no. Given the standard of vocal artists these days apparently, you'd need the budget of Bethesda/Skyrim to pull off something that didn't totally suck. And even then they had repeats and none of them could put on other accents worth a damn.
Example? The new tutorial voice overs. Dear. God. Tearing my ears off with 'argh'.

The one good bit of vocalisation is Recluse's screen monologue in Grandville. I still like his voice a bit better in the old cinematic trailers, though.

Come on, Ty. Take your filthy common sense elsewhere, you know that doesn't belong here

Yes, except it's red.

Ugh, I was fighting Sorcerors the other day with my Staff scrapper to try and get a last tip to drop. Dear gods, could they make those guys ANY more annoying? They are the ultimate troll;
Massive To-Hit AoE Debuff? Check.
Massive To-Hit AoE Debuff with knockback? Check
Ally heal that they don't only use on Tsoo? Check
Teleport and never stand bloody still for any amount of time? Oh, Check!

Ugh. Just frustrating.

Only so long as they dropped the massive amount of writer godmode/railroading they had, and I get to turn Grym into a rug.

Oh, and Dillo. He lost all likeability after he was TOUGHER THAN GOLLY GEE GOSH DARNED MANTICORE in the villain SSA. I'm sorry, but some random 'joke' character, actually harder to put down than a Phalanx Member? No. Just no.
And then they added in a Ballista, just to spite me... >_<

Christ, and I thought we'd moved past the days of "I don't find this an issue, so why are you?"
*golfclap*

'Easier' playability? How about ANY playability. I can't be the only one who does not find infinite DC's non-epic.

Someone was throwing the idiot ball around the officers again, clearly...