mousedroid

Any word on when/if they are coming back? I thought they'd have fixed them by now.

Four out of five ophthalmologists denounce this developement. The fifth guy was seen rubbing his hands together and salivating while looking at brochures for yachts.

Could someone explain the "Levels as Time" idea? I've been around for four years now, but this is the first I've heard of any tie-in between what level you are and how much time has passed. Was this a cannonical mechanic, or something the players came up with?

The sign over the door read “Crabby Joe’s Tidal Pool,” and included a chipped and faded painting of a red crab holding a pool cue. Despite the name and somewhat clever pun, everyone jokingly referred to the place as The Shabby Crab. One only had to enter to see why. The cramped Port Oakes bar smelled of stale beer and Crabby Joe’s cheap cologne; an ever-present pall of cigarette and cigar smoke hovered just above the grimy light fixtures; the bar was scarred with the initials of countless patrons; the felt on the pool tables was stained and faded; and the jukebox lent the songs a tinny, grating quality ever since the speakers were damaged in a bar fight. The Shabby Crab was no place for a 16 year old girl, but that’s what Katherine Meadows loved about it.

After her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the beer signs and staticky, old 20” color TV, Kat made her way across the creaky floor to the bar. “Heya, Joe, how’s it hangin’?” she asked in an unusually chipper mood.

“Hnn,” the scraggly bartender nodded in response.

Crabby Joe was an unusual breed of bartender – he wasn’t a conversationalist and he sure as hell didn’t care about any of your whiney-*** sob stories. Even so, he seemed to have a certain fondness for Kat. She had a tendency to chew his ear about anything that popped into her strawberry blonde head, but she also had a tendency to outspend all his other customers combined.

Kat laughed, “Cutthechatter, Joe andsetmeup.” As she waited for her drink she looked around the room, sizing up the other occupants. There were a couple of regulars -- Morrie and his besotted friend, Job -- at the far end of the bar, near the entrance to the restrooms. Kat liked the regulars – most of them were older like Morrie and Job and they rarely caused trouble or gave her grief. She smiled at the pair and Morrie smiled back, raising his glass of beer to her in a greeting salute; Job didn’t seem to be aware of her presence, as usual.

There were four pool tables in the Crab, and all of them, like Joe, were long since past their prime. The tables were inexpensive and covered in red felt, but they played true. As Joe sat a shot glass and bottle of medium grade bourbon on the bar near Kat, she noted that only one of the tables was currently occupied.

Lenny the Squid and Blinky Pete were also regulars at the Crab, and they were both pool sharks like Kat. Pouring herself a shot of the strong brown liquid, she sighed, “Kinda dead in here, in’nit, Joe?”

“Hnn,” the bartender grunted, wiping down the bar with a rag that was probably dirtier than the bar itself.

Swallowing her drink, Kat savored the warm feeling of the alcohol as it coursed down her gullet. It was the only pleasure she received from alcohol, her body metabolizing the substance long before it could reach her bloodstream. Kat licked her lips and poured another.

Just then the front door opened and light flooded into the bar, silhouetting a large figure who paused in the doorway. Kat tensed, squinting against the light and ready for trouble, remembering the threat Shakeup had made earlier. As the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled with a static charge, she felt a callused hand on her arm. She looked back over her shoulder at Joe who shook his head and then nodded in the direction of the door. When she turned back, Kat realized her mistake – the figure had entered the bar, revealing herself to be Marjorie.

Marjorie was a 300 lb, middle-aged barfly who alternately had designs on Joe, Morrie, Blinky Pete and just about any other guy who’d give her the time of day. Marjorie didn’t care for Kat – she erroneously saw the young girl as her “competition,” but she was hardly a threat to someone with Kat’s powers. Grasping one of the metal legs of the barstool on which she was sitting, Kat discharged the pent up electricity discretely, and harmlessly into the floor.

Downing her second drink and looking at the greasy clock behind the bar, Kat contemplated what to do. It was still early, and there was potential for some business later on, but Kat was weary from her earlier exertion. She rubbed her right shoulder, which was sore from the glancing blow she had taken from that Longbow Warden they’d faced earlier. She knew if her shoulder stiffened up on her again, she’d lose her advantage over any schlubs who wandered into the bar expecting to win some easy money off a “dumb, drunk” teenage girl.

Kat poured herself a third drink and sipped the oaky whiskey while sliding the bottle back to Joe. She stood, cracked her neck and stretched, cursing to herself as she felt the telltale signs of stiffness entering her sore shoulder. Fishing some money out of her pocket, she laid a twenty on the bar and sat the shot glass on top of it. It was more than three times what she owed Joe for the shots, but she didn’t care – this place was a gold mine on the right night, so it paid to keep Joe happy.

“So long, handsome, always a pleasure chewing the fat with you,” Kat joked, winking at Joe and blowing him a kiss, just to piss Marjie off.

“Hnn,” Joe nodded, his craggy face as expressionless as ever as he gathered up the shot glass and sawbuck she’d left him.

“Morrie, Job, you guys have a good one. Don’t be starting any bar fights, you hear?” Kat teased the two old men at the end of the bar. Morrie chuckled and waved goodbye. Job, hard of hearing, didn’t acknowledge her.

On her way out, Kat passed Lenny the Squid and Blinky Pete. “Good luck, guys. Hope business picks up for ya.”

“You t-t-takin’ off, Kat?” Blinky Pete asked, his eyes keeping time with his trademark stutter.

“Yeah, Pete, I think there’s a hot bath at home with my name on it,” Kat replied to the barrel-chested Pete.

“You want I should stop by with some bubble bath, later, Kitty Kat?” Lenny smarmed, waggling his eyebrows and smiling a gap-toothed smile.

“Despite your oh-so-typically-charming offer, Leonard, I’m going to pass. I don’t care to wait for you to figure out where they sell bath products,” Kat said to the tall, scrawny man they called Squid.

“Haw! Ya got me there, Kat,” Lenny laughed good-naturedly, “Take it easy.”

“I always do, Len. I always do,” Kat replied, waving over her shoulder to the men as she exited the bar.


The sky was gray and overcast, as it always was in the Isles, and a winter storm was moving in from the west. Kat wondered if the coming storm had anything to do with the aching stiffness in her shoulder. She remembered her grandma once claiming her arthritic hip could predict the weather. “I’m too young for that ****,” Kat thought to herself as she pulled her jacket tighter around her.

She remember Shakeup's question about leaving the Isles and mixed emotions ran through her mind - a vague longing for "home" as well as memories about what had happened on Peregrine Island and in... Galaxy City. Clenching her jaw against the first twinges of anger, and lowering her head against the cold, damp wind, Kat started her walk home. She didn't want to draw attention to herself in her civilian clothes by using her powers. Little did she realize she already had someone's attention as a shadowy figure watched her intently from a nearby alleyway, jotting notes in a small pad.

OK, gotcha. I thought it would be kind of odd to annouce the theme with only a few minutes notice. Glad to see I was misunderstanding.

Mistress Mercury is all charged up and ready to go.

I don't have enough characters who could fit either of these items (carpet or rocket board) into their concept to make them worthwhile even at the 450-point sale price.

If I could buy a power like this for 600 points that I could change from character-to-character to a carpet, a rocket board, a broom, a jet pack, etc., I'd jump at it because then I could use it on enough characters to make it worth the price to me.

Thanks, Masque.

I'm hoping this will help me get some of the more expensive purple recipes for my Dom.

Apologies to Masque for tagging along on his thread, but rather than make a second one...

I have the following costume codes (one of each) I'd be willing to trade for Influence (2 billion each?):

Carnival of Shadows Harlequin

Freakshow Tank

PPD Hardsuit

Knives of Artemis

Praetorian Clockwork (TRADED)

Praetorian Ghoul (TRADED)

Rikti Mentalist

Mk-VI Victoria

Let me know. Thanks.

((The following takes place shortly after the events of last Thursday))...

Katherine Meadows sat alone at the back of the submarine on the trip back to Sharkhead Island. Lost in thought over the events on Peregrine Island, she never heard the man approach.

“Hey kid, you headin’ home from a job in Paragon?” the portly man in the grimy blue and green motley costume asked, plopping his bulk down in the seat next to the teen. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “Me too, and lemme tell ya, it was a real gas!”

The man laughed at his own joke in a high-pitched, rheumy laugh that grated on Kat’s nerves and made her feel slightly sick to her stomach. She knew the man to see him, and had heard that he was an utter psychopath, but she didn’t care, she just wanted to be left alone.

When she didn’t respond, the wheezy villain prodded, “Ya wanna here about it?”

Kat silently shook her head “no” as she stared at the floor of the sub, fuming at the disturbance.

“What’samatter, kid? Yer job go bad on ya?” the man inquired. Not waiting for a response he continued, “Pfff, don’t let it getcha down, we all got our off days. Leastways ya got outta there with yer cute little buns intact,” he said creepily, his laughter devolving into a mild coughing fit that caused Kat to lean away from him.

The man prattled on inanely for the next half hour, as Kat largely ignored him or tried to will him away. Finally, when she could take his nasally voice and wheezy breathing no longer, Kat decided to change seats. As she began to rise, the man placed a meaty hand on her thigh pressing her back into her seat. “Where ya goin’, sweetcheeks?” He asked, a crooked smile crossing his deeply lined and scarred face as his hand caressed her thigh.

On any other occasion, Katherine might have been paralyzed with fear at the familiarity the creepy maniac was exhibiting, but tonight her mood was as black as the sea they were gliding through and fear had no chance to surface through the anger boiling up inside her. “Remove your hand, please,” she asked curtly.

“What’samatter, baby, you nervous? I can tell ya need a friend, and I can be reeaaal friendly,” he smarmed through yellowed teeth and fetid breath, as his hand crawled up her thigh.

Grabbing his wrist to prevent further encroachment, Kat gritted through clenched teeth, “I said… Remove. Your. Hand.”

The man’s grin only got wider and his grip tighter. He enjoyed it so much more when they resisted. “Or what, b****?”

Locking her eyes on his for the first time, Kat growled, “Or I will remove it for you.” Tiny white sparks flashed behind Kat’s pupils, but the man didn’t flinch. The air around them became statically charged as Kat’s fury grew, causing the hair on the man’s corpulent arm to stand on end and his grin to waiver slightly, but his grip didn't falter.

“Alright, you asked for this,” Katherine hissed as her grip on the man's wrist tightened. St. Elmo’s fire danced up and down her arm, collecting around her hand. The air became warm as the tendrils of electricity gathered, but his grip got defiantly stronger. Soon miniature lightning bolts were arcing furiously across Kat’s body and a veritable ball of plasma surrounded her fist.

The man’s hand began to shake as the heat grew, and he finally released his grip on Katherine’s leg as he smelled the hair on his wrist burning. But still the heat intensified as Kat maintained her white-hot iron grip on his wrist. “Let go,” he demanded, his brow furrowed with concern. Kat held on. The skin on his hand and forearm began to blister. “Let go!” he pleaded, his voice cracking with pain and fear, “Let go, let go, let go! Pllllleeeaasssseeee, let gooOOOOO!!!” he wailed as the pain overwhelmed him. He fell to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes.

A deep, calm voice resonated in Kat’s ears, “Enough. Release him,” and immediately her fury abated along with the electricity surrounding her body. She was suddenly overcome with embarrassment at the reproach and released the sobbing man’s arm. A layer of his burned skin peeled away as it stuck to her glove. “I’m sorry,” she muttered contritely to the source of the voice only she had heard.

Thinking the soft, simple apology was directed at him, the man on the floor looked at her in horror. Convinced he’d finally met someone more psychotic than him, he hurried away from Katherine cradling the hand he’d very nearly lost.

Katherine Meadows sighed and closed her eyes. In less than a minute she was fast asleep. She napped, blissfully undisturbed the remainer of the trip back to Sharkhead.

I'm cool with Wednesday. It actually works better than Thursday for me this week as well.

That synopsis did not excite me. It sounds a little too grand in scope to me. I trust Ridley Scott to make this a good movie, and his involvement, as well as the cast, makes me a little less apprehensive, But I've been waiting over 20 years for another good Alien movie, so I'm not getting my hopes up too high.

I'm also disappointed it isn't going to be a backstory on the crashed alien vessel they found on LV-426.

Farewell, and fare well, Tea.

I'll miss your posts and seeing you/chatting with you at conventions, but I'm sure opportunity and adventure await you in the east (though I sincerely suggest you fly west - it'll be quicker).

Take care, and send us a panda!

I'm available.

Wait, what? He dressed as Superman for his bachelor party and just happened to run into a woman dressed as Wonder Woman? Was this during Halloween or is dressing as superheroes just that common in Australia?

Entries I would watch, but probably not pay $10+ to watch at a theater:

Chewie - am a SW junkie and this could be entertaining.

In the Event of a Moon Disaster - I love what-if/alternate history stories.

Maggie - despite the fact that the description is almost directly ripping off elements of The Walking Dead, if this was made somewhat tongue-in0cheek in the vein of Shawn of the Dead, I think it could be entertaining. As a straight sci-fi horror film, I'd probably pass.

The Current War - I can't see this ever being made into a feature film, but I would totally watch this as a documentary or miniseries on the History Channel (if the History Channel still ran programming that had anything to do with history).