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Safe For Work Worm Ideas thread

Discussion in 'CW Index' started by Prince Charon, Mar 19, 2014.

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  1. TanaNari

    TanaNari Verified Dick

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    Well, if you're going with THAT, why not just 'port the universe in? Kevin as a young boy who triggers with a tinker ability to construct horribly painful deathtraps during a home invasion.
     
    Prince Charon and Snake/Eater like this.
  2. Prince Charon

    Prince Charon Just zis guy, you know?

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    The movie came out in 1990, so well after Scion showed up, but IIRC, years before the Protectorate were founded (or maybe just before they became a government superteam). Hero was probably active already, so Kevin would have someone to compare his 'building stuff' power to.
     
    ParaDXThrowaway likes this.
  3. Snake/Eater

    Snake/Eater Myth Maker of the North

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    I think there was Tinker with a similar specialty,but he ended up with a fate worst then death.... he became Butcher.
     
  4. Kaferian

    Kaferian Making the rounds.

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    Well, Kevin lives in the suburbs of Chicago, so he probably would be avoiding that mess entirely. Hopefully. Well, he was going to get his fingers chewed off by the Wet Bandits, so bad things might happen.

    If he were to be a tinker, he would be the most underrated one in existence. His traps don't really have that much in terms in moving parts. In my mind, Kevin was just using whatever items he had lying around to cause the most humiliation and pain possible, not going out and around gathering specific materials, unless you count lonely old people as specific materials, to build his traps.

    That said, I would probably have Kevin get a Thinker power that shows him the best way to use an item to cause pain, physical or otherwise. Or I could just have him be a regular kid who's mistaken as a parahuman because who else would use a staple gun on someone's genitalia?
     
  5. Threadmarks: Bonds, by Interitio
    Questingdragon

    Questingdragon Media Mundivore

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    Bonds

    Amy woke to frantic knocking on her window. She blinked blearily at Prism as the girl kept knocking.

    Not again.

    She pulled herself out of bed, grabbed her overnight bag just in case and opened the window.

    “Is it Bonesaw and Nilbog again? Please don't tell me they've made another attempt at a disco zombie virus?”

    “It's Lung and Crawler. It still hasn't happened yet, but the thinker who picked it up says you need to leave now.

    Amy sighed and grabbed her Panacea robe from beside the window. As she put it on Oni Lee came out of the shadows, grabbed Prism and teleported with her.

    He teleported into three places, and then each of those three teleported, again and again, until Prism cut off her power, and several hundred Oni Lee's and Prism's all slammed back into two bodies.

    Amy had never really understood how the Lee/Prism power interaction worked. The only person in her family who had a bond was Shielder, he had found an interstate ward named Shriek, who's sonic attacks could influence his shields, making them tougher and more malleable.

    The boy had moved into the bay, and it was rare for the two of them not to stay up late, playing with their powers together. Last night Shielder had been elated at being able to 'trap' Shriek's vibrations, and then make his shield produce them at any point.

    Lee reached out to touch Prism and Amy, and both found themselves in the desert.

    “You... you really came?” Crawler boomed.

    Crawler was a beast, at least ten stories high and shaped like something out of nightmare, his mouth had long since lost the ability to form coherent speech. His voice instead came from a mouth on his knee. Probably grown from sheer need to communicate.

    Amy looked in confusion from the knee, to the face, and decided to address the knee. It was closer.

    “You, um... you know there's a price right? I need you to promise.”

    “I promise. No going near any humans unless there's an Endbringer fight. Just like the woman in the hat and the little girl in a suit said. Please! Save him!”

    Amy looked past the knee as a giant claw lifted Lung and shoved him across the sand. He was mostly human, scales had formed, only to be rapidly eaten away by Crawlers acid. Most of his legs were down to the bone, and his torso wasn't a lot better.

    Amy shuddered as her fingers entered the slime, but it was organic, which meant she could neutralizer it and begin replacing lost flesh.

    “I know I have to be careful with him in the mornings, I didn't mean to spit quite that much acid...”

    “I need some biomass.” Amy said.

    “Right.” Crawler raised a tendril tipped with a glittering gray blade and drove it into his flesh, tearing out a chunk that was healed almost as soon as it was gone.

    Amy reached out for the chunk of flesh and used it to create a new heart, some lungs, a bit more spine...

    Lung's regeneration took it from there. New, scaled flesh flowing over his lower body and beginning to form the stumps of legs.

    “We should get out of here before they get started. Goodbye Crawler, we'll leave you to it.” Prism said.

    Lee nodded in acceptance, and they began their power interaction again. A dozen brightly costumed girls clasped hands with a dozen black clad men in Oni masks, before collapsing into dust.

    And then Amy was back home. Staring after the two of them.

    It was tough, for those parahumans who didn't find someone to bond with. Matchmaker didn't get around to everyone, and studies showed that parahumans without bonds were severely prone to violence and irrational urges for conflict.

    Even the rest of New Wave had their 'sky dance.' Which mainly involved the flying members throwing the non-flying members about in a pattern while everyone tried to create a light display. It wasn't a real bond, it didn't involve a power interaction and it didn't make everyone involved more powerful, but at least it was something.

    Something a squishy little healer couldn't be a part of.

    Well... back to wracking her brains for a way to create some sort of power interaction with her sister, Amy decided.

    Then she saw the Matchmaker, a bright, golden man flying low and carrying someone.

    Seeing the Matchmaker wasn't always a good thing. He paired people based on their powers, not on any sort of personal preference. The last time he had been in Broktown Bay he had paired the vigilante Shadow Stalker with the villain Fog.

    It went the way most such meeting did. They briefly tried to kill each other. They discovered their power interaction. They negotiated a bit, because who didn't like an increase in power and options? Slowly they were drawn to each other, developing something that went beyond normal human connections.

    They'd killed three independent villains and one independent hero, and were still at large despite the desperation the E88 had shown in hunting down their lost member.

    “Everyone! Wake up! Matchmaker is here!” Amy yelled.

    It would be perfect if he was bringing someone who's power matched with one of her parents. Someone to make Brandish loosen up would be perfect. Or someone who could cheer up Flashbang. And if he then looked at her and Victoria and gave her a little shove in her sisters direction...

    Victoria poked her head out the window, then levered it up and flew out. Flashbang came out the door, and Brandish was yelling something from the shower when Matchmaker alighted.

    He felt sad, lost and lonely. His face was impassive, chiseled from stone, but he what he was feeling was broadcast for all to hear. Eternally pairing powers, but never finding anyone to match his own.

    He laid a thin, tall girl down on the grass at Amy's feet, and she immediately knelt down and touched the sleeping girls wrist.

    Abrasions to her fingers, chemicals in her bloodstream indicating a lot of recent severe stress. Some sort of dampening effect was keeping her asleep, probably something from Matchmaker that would fade soon. Likely a recent trigger.

    Then Amy actually looked at the girl, and gently pulled a used tampon from her hair.




    (An omake for Amelia by TanaNari, utilizes the idea of bonds between passengers. A brief crack AU where Scion decided he likes the bonds fairly early in the piece, and goes around pairing any two parahumans with a potential power interaction. Also, yes I blatantly stole the Lung/Crawler pairing from Wake. So, who else do you think might get paired up?)
     
  6. Peanuckle

    Peanuckle Versed in the lewd.

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    Armsmaster and Squealer. (He can cram a whole lotta junk in her trunk)

    Triumph and Screamer. (Imagine Screamer being able to send Triumph's shouts to anyone within her range)

    Miss Militia and String Theory. (String Theory builds the biggest guns, MM operates them without need for reload or maintenance)

    Brandish and Marquis (gotta love that drama)

    Noelle and Ballistic (Krouse will explode)

    Citrine and Accord (They almost get it on in canon anyways, might as well)
     
  7. Skitzyfrenic

    Skitzyfrenic Elves are for lewding.

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    I pretty much had this idea, before I read your snip. I'd love to see more. I'd also like to be able to do it myself... I do have some time off soon... Hmm.

    Though TAW!Taylor would be pretty sweet too. Decisions, decisions.
     
    Jack of Olives likes this.
  8. Jack of Olives

    Jack of Olives Knows just enough to be dangerous.

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    If you want to give it a shot, go for it! RL has really been eating up the time an energy I normally use to write, and I'd love to see it continued. If not, I'll probably get around to writing it at some point.
     
    Skitzyfrenic likes this.
  9. Threadmarks: Untitled Gory thing, by Can'tthinkofaname
    Can'tthinkofaname

    Can'tthinkofaname Making the rounds.

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    I'm trying to start something I can feel motivated to work on. So here is me trying to start creating an OC. This might belong in the NSFW section, so let me know if I should post it there instead.
    WARNING: Excessive Gore by some standards, and torture.

    1.1

    My world was pain.

    I couldn’t see, could hardly hear, I couldn’t feel anything except for the knives that held open my chest, the small hands that played with my organs, the slight touches and caresses that were meant to be gentle but sent unimaginable pain shooting through me.

    My body tried to heal. My power, useless here, my skin struggled against its restraint, pulling, inching closer before HE sunk another knife into it. My muscles crawled, slippery, sliding like snakes across the gaps, before drips of poison acid ate into them, forcing them back. The pain was incredible.

    I almost laughed. I had been called a masochist before, been called sick for enjoying the pain that could be inflicted on me. But not like this. Nothing like this.

    Instead I gasped. Tears pooled in empty sockets, before running down the iron spikes that were there instead of my eyes.

    Through the mesh where my ears were I heard a faint snicker.

    “Stop being suuuch a baaaaby.”

    Bonesaw. Speaking of bonesaws, was that what was pressing on my leg. She was trying another amputation. To see if it would grow away from me. It wouldn’t. I had tried before. I would have thought she would be bored by now.

    A squeeze of my heart, and a vein in my arm exploded, blood having been forced into it backwards.

    Nobody knew where the matter for recreating my body came from, the PRT and their tests had never figured it out. It was just there when it needed to be.

    So the blood never stopped flowing. It was pooled around the operating table, the little blond bitch up to her knees in my cells. It had been going on for days. She had made sure to give me time updates hourly, so she knew.

    Apparently I was her birthday present, or whatever. A way for her to learn a bit more about human anatomy, a lesson for both her and the rest of her sick twisted team. I was just the perfect subject she had told me. So she hadn’t stopped.

    She ate her fast food out of my chest, making sure to put down a plastic sheet first. Over the acid that kept it open, of course. The force fed Big Macs let her ‘study’ how much it took to explode a digestive system when it couldn’t expel waste.

    “Don’t you worry, Jack is getting me a special present to finish up, then we’ll be done with you, kay?”

    She sounded so sweet, so innocent. I almost had to force myself to hate her. Nah. I really didn’t.

    She pulled a rope, and my ribcage popped out with a squelching sound, almost like sucking on a finger when pulling it out of your mouth. It almost came out in one piece, but got hung up on new lungs. It tore them out.
    Suddenly my gasping for breath stopped, and I wasn’t breathing. Not the first time that had happened. That had been during a Behemoth fight. The tornado of force that ripped your esophagus from your throat, and pulled it out of your mouth.

    “JACK! You’re baccckkkk!”

    The squeal of joy made me sick again. I tried to cough, a sick sound that didn’t come out properly.

    “Of course I’m back, now here are your presents!”

    He sounded like a happy father on Christmas morning, gesturing under a tree. Her squeal of joy made her sound like his daughter.

    “Oooh, Oooh. This look sooooo cool. Lets do it now!”

    My eyes grew back, around the iron spikes. I could see from one of them. I could see the little torturer, holding a gunmetal colored suitcase. As she popped the latch, I could see steam coming out. An one symbol on it. A decorative C, emblazoned on each side. I saw her pull out four vials, each labeled. I couldn’t read them.

    “Oooh, these look so special. Thanks Jack!”

    I was afraid, really. I should have been before, and I had been before, but mind numbing pain for days was almost a joke at this point. I guess to them it was.

    I heard the pop, like champagne being opened.

    Then I felt the liquid being poured into my chest. It felt like fire. It felt like ice. It was unbelievable. So painful it was indescribable, after the days of torture it was even worse than when she had hijacked my nervous system. I cried. I really did. My body interpreted my mental need and made it happen. It didn’t matter that my eyes were hardly intact. It didn’t matter that I had felt almost as bad before. This was the worst.

    “And there, we, go. I’ll just sew this up and then well call the cops for you, kay?”

    My eyelids were pulled open. I could see, barely see, all four of the vials liquids soaking into my opened chest. They pooled in a slick multicolored mix, before turning a shining black and starting to sink into my flesh.

    My eyelids were pulled off, and quickly grew back.

    I didn’t open them again.

    DESTINATION

    AGREEMENT

    AGREEMENT

    AGREEMENT

    AGREEMENT




    1.2

    Interlude- Frank

    I didn’t know why we were here. It was strange, being called to a recently abandoned hospital. Blackout from a cape fight had knocked out the power, and the hospital had never recovered after the deaths that had caused. It shut down the next year, abandoned, with much of the equipment just left there.

    The fact that when we drove up, the lights were on was very unusual. The power had never gotten reconnected, so it was eerie. Only the third floor was lit.

    “Why are we here man?” I asked my partner, William. He liked to be called Bill. He was older than me, slightly more experienced. I had ten years in the force but Ben had over twenty under his belt. He didn’t flaunt it, but there was some pride that came with having a successful career like that, especially with all the capes hanging around.

    “Dispatch got a call, said that someone heard a scream from inside, probably some squatter just fell or got hurt or something.”

    That made sense I guess.

    We parked just outside the doors, a little up the sidewalk. Stepping out of the car I was reminded of sheriffs dismounting their horses like in a western. I smiled a bit at that, knowing I would be the deputy in that story.

    The door was a little jammed, ajar. It was opened up by a casual shoulder check from Bill. Walking in, the lobby was mostly dark, lit by a single desk lamp. We walked up, inspected it. And underneath the harsh light there was a note.

    “Third Floor. What’s on the third floor?”

    “I dunno. “

    We walked, carefully, up the stairs. The lights flickered, occasionally going out. There steps creaked. One broke under my boot, and I started to fall, before Bill grabbed my arm.

    “I got you”, he grunted out, as he pulled me up. Much stronger than he looked.

    “Thanks”, I muttered, shaking my foot a little to throw off the dust that had settled on my shoe.

    We continued walking up in silence, proceeding a little more carefully. We got off on the third floor, one before the roof.

    Walking down the hallway, all the lights were off. Looking at Bill, he nodded at me and drew his flashlight, then his pistol. Steadying his grip with the flashlight, he slowly started checking rooms.

    I pulled both of my tools as well, holding the pistol at my side and shining the flashlight around.

    “Anyone here?”, I called out softly.

    We walked together to the end of the first hallway, where the operating theater was. Then I heard a small splash. I looked down, shining the flashlight.

    Blood. A small pool of it, soaking under the door.

    I immediately held my pistol at the ready.

    Bill was on his radio, speaking, “Dispatch we have a possible wounded on the scene, large amount of blood discovered send an ambulance. We will look for victims and perps.”

    “Understood. Sending ambulance.”

    The tinker automated police radios were strange, but they helped efficiency.

    We opened the door in front of us.

    Compared to the dim hallway, the observers room for the operating theater was well lit. Bright and shiny, presumably so we could see what was on the table in front of the glass. A body.

    I vomited. Not from the body. I had seen bodies. I had worked homicide as a detective for a year before being demoted.

    I vomited from the blood. There was so much blood. More than I had ever seen before. The blood was knee deep, pooled around the operating table like a sick presentation. Limbs and organs floated on the top, sheets of skin, brain matter, eyes, gore from a thousand injuries. And the body in the center.

    I was barley a body anymore. Metal spikes were driven into the skin, holding it open, muscles were individually pinned down by sharp needles. Knives were holding his hands, fingers, arms, elbows and knees, feet. They pinned him to the table. Spikes in his eyes. A bloody rag over the crotch. And on the wall behind him were words. Spelled out by stretched strips of muscles. S9. Love Bonesaw and friends.

    I heard another vomiting sound beside me. Bill was retching, leaning against the wall. He managed to pull himself together, pull out his radio, and say, “ Dispatch we have one confirmed dead, possible evidence of massacre here, looks like the Slaughterhouse did it. Send backup and forensic teams immediately.”

    ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

    1.3

    Interlude- Legend.

    A small town outside of New York had reported a Slaughterhouse sighting. So I went, and was there faster than anyone else. It wasn’t actually a sighting, it was the aftermath of the crime, but I still had to go. Still had to make the appearance, encourage people that there was still hope. That there was still hope against monsters like that.

    I arrived, hovering in to the third floor of the once abandoned hospital. Now it was surrounded by dozens of emergency vehicles. Spotlights on the building lit it up for miles. Now the broken window pattern could be seen, that spelled out S9. Not very subtle, but unnoticeable until it was lit up.

    I saw the medics, the cops, the pumps. I walked into the room. Two cops walked over to me, both had remnants of vomit on their uniforms.

    “Officers.” I said the one word, nodding to both of them. It wasn’t time for speeches, pleasantries. They knew that just as well as I did.

    “Legend. We found the body here about half an hour ago. We were just getting set up to drain the room. “

    I walked over to the glass, I hadn’t looked in yet. I had heard the reports though, that this was even worse than the usua-

    I froze.

    I ran to the door, I couldn’t hear the cops. Couldn’t hear their yells. I pulled at the door. It didn’t budge. I melted the lock with a glance.

    I ripped it open, almost off its hinges. The flood of red hit me, staining my uniform below my thighs. I froze it behind me with barley a thought. Wading into the blood, I stood at the table. I gently touched the face.

    “Nick.”

    It was almost a whisper, but lower. I could feel the pain in my voice, feel it in my bones.

    I felt for a pulse, and was even more shocked when I couldn’t find one.

    Pain shot into my heart. Pain of loss.

    He was supposed to be unkillable, even more so than Alexandria. His regeneration was far beyond anything else anyone had displayed. He was proven to be able to grow back from a single cell. Theoretically less, even.

    It shouldn’t be possible, that he was dead.

    Dead.

    This wasn’t a loss I was expecting.

    I belatedly realized that all the blood, all the organs, tissues, skin, bone and biological residue would belong to him. This wasn’t the site of some mass murder. This was the continuous torture of one man. I forced myself to look at him. I saw a carving on the table. Day numbers.

    Eighteen. Eighteen days they cut him, burned him, ripped him up from the outside and inside.

    He was supposed to come visit me and Keith in a week. He was done with heroing. The only thing he had done for years was organ and blood donations, once a week.

    I was numb.

    I felt a bump on my leg.

    I looked.

    A suitcase. A metal suitcase. I familiar metal suitcase. With a stylized sideways U on the side. Or as I knew it, a C.

    I looked back at the body, and saw the vials littering the table.

    I started to cry.

    I didn’t care how it looked to the cops outside.

    I didn’t care how it would affect my reputation.

    One of the first wards, and one of my only great friends was dead, and it was partially my fault.
     
  10. Prince Charon

    Prince Charon Just zis guy, you know?

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    ... well, that was fucking horrifying.

    Any chance that Legend will start seriously pursuing the S9 after this, or perhaps send Eidolon after them?
     
    Can'tthinkofaname likes this.
  11. Student of Zelretch

    Student of Zelretch Put the ice back on my lake. Moderator

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    Screw sending Eidolon, this calls for a visit from his "neice". You know, Eidolon's eccentric daughter?
     
    Can'tthinkofaname likes this.
  12. Master of Squirrel-fu

    Master of Squirrel-fu The Original

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    So I had this idea for a Railgun!Taylor. Or more accurately a RADIONOISE!"Taylor".

    Taylor would gain her power sometime during her childhood. Control over electromagnitism. The precision and power of which increases with calculation ability which gradually rises with usage. But there's a second part of her power, the creation of near perfect clones of herself, the more of which exist the stronger any one can be at a given time by "borrowing" the calculation power of her sisters. The clones generate randomly and the clones themselves spawn other clones. When she joins the Wards this naturally becomes a problem, but at this point enough clones are generated to have a noticeable increase in her power and in a pragmatic move the Protectorate decides to put them to use, namely as cannon fodder against S-class threats. Clones are not legally people and their status as power created and their inexpressive faces and disappearing cadavers has the public not viewing them as real, it's only plaid up in the face and body concealing costumes they are made to wear.

    This, of course, pisses off Taylor when she learns that they are purposely sending her "sisters" to die in the place of other parahumans. The PRT tells her it's a necessity given that her powers mean that her clones' numbers grow exponentially without a way to stop it and it was more useful than just gassing them when they grow too numerous. Even taking such measures the growth only increases, not helped by the group's growing power and experience thanks to their RADIO NOISE network letting them share their knowledge and power. By the time cannon starts nearly 40000 are currently active across America, each ranking around a shaker/blaster 5, or collectively powering up a small few to Triumvirate levels of bullshit. Feeling threatened now that very few of the clones are dying and only growing in number and power the Protectorate decides to act proactively.

    The clones are collected and put down in synchrony. Within minutes over half the population is exterminated before information leaks to the network and the rest escape. Taylor acts in a rage and attacks the Protectorate but when faced with The Triumvirate and unable to call upon the full network access due to losses and the sisters need for it she gets taken down hard, and finished off by Eidolon. The Protectorate had hoped her death would result in the clones disappearing but were disappointed, though the spawning appeared to have stopped. The PRT then has to deal with the remaining clones, most of which escaped custody. Eventually the courts decide that they are no longer considered an S-class threat and tentatively dismiss the kill on site orders.

    In the mean time Eidolon learns that his powers increased dramatically with the death of Hebert, consulting Cauldron and using some Thinkers they realize that his powers return with the death of the clones for some unknown reason, now that Hebert is dead. It's predicted that with the deaths of the rest of them over a period of time could return Eidolon's power to full and then some. And thus begins the hunt of the remaining Taylors.

    This is where the story begins, following the dwindling SISTERs group that holds out in Brockton bay, unwilling to abandon the city their Older Sister had loved and tried to protect. The group would consist of a Big Sis, one of the rare double digits that survived, the Youngest Sister who was created minutes before the extermination, several of the Rebellious who are sisters who are sisters who want to be more unique and are more disconnected from the network than most, and a lot of regular SISTERS.
     
    Last edited: May 5, 2015
  13. OverReactionGuy

    OverReactionGuy The only Sane one left

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    That is just fucked up.

    -edit-

    Fits surprisingly well with worm. Good job.
     
  14. daimahou

    daimahou Gentleman Tentacle(s)

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    :O

    You should have a group of SISTERs that want revenge and find a way to increase their numbers again.
     
  15. doomlord9

    doomlord9 Experienced.

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    Reposting this here since this is where it actually belongs.

    I'm kinda wanting a story where Danny becomes excessively frustrated at being stonewalled every step of the way until he eventually starts using legbreakers dockworkers to get his own brand of revenge against the school. He has a phonebook to find out where the school staff live, plus there are plenty of ways to destroy the facilities to the point where closing the school and paying to send the students elsewhere would be cheaper than fixing everything.

    The PRT/P would be looking for the new parahuman gang leader with a grudge against Winslow while ignoring the mundane explanations behind it.

    This could also involve Taylor in a role similar to Mafia Princess where all the dockworkers like her and are more than willing to get revenge on her behalf for free.
     
    Skitzyfrenic and Prince Charon like this.
  16. Master of Squirrel-fu

    Master of Squirrel-fu The Original

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    Why not have Danny actually be a mob boss? Maybe he was the head of the Original Merchants, who live up to the name by selling goods and services. When he left the better elements left with him, the remaining eventually gravitated to Skidmark. It'd be sorta like the Blue Scarves and Yellow Squares in DRRR. So when the story starts he will have preexisting network and good criminal connections to work with. Something like Mikado's later characterization would work for him well.
     
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  17. doomlord9

    doomlord9 Experienced.

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    That could work too but I was more thinking this would be the impetus behind him becoming a mob boss.

    The boys don't mind all that much, the looting earns them abit of extra cash anyway and it's not like there is much, or any, shipping containers that take more than 30 min a day to deal with.

    Meanwhile Taylor is developing into Skitter in the background and eventually Warlord!Skitter has need to sit down at the table and negotiate with Union Man. Both are feeling some major deja vu as the awkwardness at the negotiating table is almost exactly like the awkwardness as the few times they have sat down to have dinner together in their civ ID's.

    Them finding out each others' ID's is optional but would make for some hilarity and for them to finally figure out why Lisa hasn't stopped giggling for the last 3 days. She started when she first arranged the meeting and the broken comments about it running in the family make more sense now.
     
  18. Sol Mark-1

    Sol Mark-1 Experienced.

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    Something I put in SV.

    Prompt: Zion, Eden, and Abadon; Reach our Solar system and find it to quiet but they find Earth, badly for them that Earth is the one Old World of Darkness with all the nasty things, the Parahumans end destroying the Paradox; Taylor Awakes as a mage, maybe Annete and Danny were mages maybe one of them was a Progenitor, and the other was a member of the Society of Ether, Taylor was their joint experiment, (backstory for a harem protagonist).

    Myrdin in this universe is really a mage. (He is really one)

    Sophia is Werewolf of the feminazi type.

    Sabah father did not die in this universe he was saved by a Taftani who was a friend of the family. (Did not help with her family relationship)

    Nilbog is an exworker from Pentex (one of the lucky ones).

    People thinks that Amy is a Tzimisce. (Half truth)

    Endbringers are just gaint monsters that are around the planet, chilling out.

    How would you Expand the idea?
     
  19. Biigoh

    Biigoh Primordial Tanuki Moderator

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    Tanuki thinks it too much work.

    Why write it?
     
  20. Peanuckle

    Peanuckle Versed in the lewd.

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    There was that one Worm/OWoD cross by... that one dude. With the Brujah named Bloodbath while Battery and Vista were covert mages infiltrating the Protectorate or something. Behemoth got solo'd by the Ravnos Antediluvian, werewolves were a public menace that nobody understood.

    It was very interesting, but like many interesting fics it died before completion.
     
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  21. evildice

    evildice (emotionally stable clown posse)

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    Werewolves have some kind of Delirium thing, right? They'd be Strangers on top of being Brutes?

    That would have an interesting impact, given the prevalence of Master/Stranger counter-measures.

    Hmm, that might be interesting -- super-hero counter-measures end up catching way more than anticipated. The world is fucked up in ways you never imagined, and it always has been, and we have it on film.

    Perhaps capes are actually a Seer plot to discredit the truth of magic.
     
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  22. Prince Charon

    Prince Charon Just zis guy, you know?

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    For reasons of 'Eidolon read different things leading up to their appearance' and/or 'Eidolon interpreted Contessa's statement differently', the Endbringers do not manifest as individual giant monsters, but as invading civilizations of parahumans (or at least, powered & high-tech races who might be descended from humans, given that Case 53s are humans altered by their powers). Most members of each civilization are fairly low-powered, but they all have some Elites that are serious threats individually.

    What would have been Behemoth manifests as the Mole People, an amalgamation of various underground civilizations that show up in comics and a few pulps, make a mess, and get driven off. Tend to be very pale, have big eyes, and odd heads, and travel around in high-tech mole-machines (pretty much drill-tanks of various types). Their Tinkertech is a factor in how dangerous they are, but not as great a one as their numbers or ability to arrive and escape without sufficient warning. A lot of their Elites have Earth-manipulating or Lava-manipulating powers, and of course the most powerful ones are fairly close to true dynakinetics.

    What would have been Leviathan manifests as the Empire of Atlantis. They have a wider range of looks, from Deep Ones (with a partially-pheromonal Fear effect that may make GG less popular if she still has it in this setting), merfolk (with fishtails and a tendency to stay far from the land and do support work, or drive tank-equivalents), humanoids (look like unmodified or only-slightly-modified humans, but can breathe under water). Most of the Atlantean Elites are humanoids, apart from Dagon, who appears to be a giant, mutated Deep One, and Siren, a mermaid (or perhaps a group of mermaids) with significant Master powers. Unlike the Mole People, the Atlanteans have a lot of magic-themed Tinkertech and pseudo-magical powers, but their mundane tech and non-magic-themed Tinkertech tends to seem less advanced than that of the Mole People. As well as coastal cities, they may attack large congregations of ships, or areas where large numbers of oil platforms are close together.

    What would have been Simurgh manifests as various alien invaders, and usually doesn't appear as the same 'race' twice in a row, though some 'races' do repeat. They often have the most advanced-seeming Tinkertech, though captured Atlantean 'magic items' tend to at least match and sometimes exceed their capabilities (and the tech's apparent level varies from 'race' to 'race,' as do the themes available, simulating different mindsets and technological paths). Some 'races' are known to have subtle Master powers, but not all of them. As with the others, a lot of the invaders are suspiciously like aliens from various comics, novels, TV, movies, and modern myth (e.g. Greys, Klingons, Thanagarians, Martians, Actual Space Nazis, and so forth). When defeated the flyable spacecraft tend to leave the atmosphere, and then vanish into what appears to be various types of FTL - though no FTL engine is ever captured. The existence that would have been called Simugh is still working toward the same goal as in canon, but has an easier time of it, due to the uncertainty about how connected the various 'races' are, and the lack of awareness that any of them (not just some of them) can do long-term mind-control. Occasionally, two or more 'races' will attack at the same time, and either end up fighting each other, with most of the damage done appearing to be collateral, or show up as allies, or as two opposing alliances. The existence that would have been called Simurgh is generally consistent about who is allied with who, but will change things up sometimes, simulating interstellar politics.


    Invaders captured alive tend to be variably unhelpful, and are generally low-ranking, thus not being able to supply much intelligence, even once you learn their language - and of course, anything you get from captured aliens is exactly what the existence that would have been called Simurgh wants you to know. She probably has less precise control over what the Atlanteans or Mole People say.

    The answer to 'why are you attacking, and how can we get you to stop' will tend to be unhelpful, or require something that isn't really an option, like stopping all mining, or no-longer polluting the seas nor having ships travel on or in them, and so on.


    Thoughts?
     
    Last edited: May 7, 2015
  23. Sol Mark-1

    Sol Mark-1 Experienced.

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    I remember that fic it was very interesting, think it was some readers that managed to annoy the writter.
     
  24. Larekko12

    Larekko12 Connoisseur.

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    This is sick. And dumb. Mostly dumb. You're talking about a minor. A kid who's a member of their oragnization with standardised powers and and the ability to communicate. How would she not know about the suicides? Why would the protectorate toss good old fashioned stable blasters fives.

    40 k capes is like a significant portion of the world wide cape population. Useful for coordinated assualts against normal parahumans. And Taylor does have a expiration date. And there are dead planets to send her too.



    Alexandria comes up and say. Taylor dear we're going to be having population issues. We've recently discovered a method to make portals and were funding an expedition to colonize it. we want you to do security.
     
  25. Skitzyfrenic

    Skitzyfrenic Elves are for lewding.

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    Scourge Caste Taylor is hard to write unless going murder-crack.:mad: I've rewritten what I have three times (one of those times was to an ill-timed update and forgetting to save though:oops:) and the best I can come up with is a murderously eager puppy that doesn't really fit with Taylor at all.

    With all the Twilight Caste Solar Taylors out there I'm kind of surprised to see so few (I don't think I've seen any, actually, which is extra strange since with an demon riding piggyback, you could feasibly get Taylor some first circle sorcery with some very minor shenanigans) Defilers even though Taylor is pretty much what SWLIHN looks for in an Exalt. Feels betrayed by the world, knows the system in place is broken/non-functioning, lost her mother (and her father emotionally) to a blip on the radar of fate.
     
  26. Jack of Olives

    Jack of Olives Knows just enough to be dangerous.

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    Yeah, that was a problem I had, too. The thing about the Infernal shards is that they choose people based on the qualifications of their old Solar qualifications (albeit ones who failed), so I could see Taylor as either of the two. If she's not a Defiler, she'd almost certainly have SWLIHN as her favored Yozi.

    Anyway, as far as writing her as a Scourge goes, Adorjan's charmset is more than a bit Loony-Toony. One charm let's you steal someone's voice with a kiss, another let's you fall in love with anyone of your choosing, and anyone trying to catch an Infernal who learned her movement charms is destined for Roadrunner & Coyote shenanigans.

    Edit: Oh! and we can't forget the hammer-space weapons, either :D.
     
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  27. Skitzyfrenic

    Skitzyfrenic Elves are for lewding.

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    Yeah, her charmset is kinda silly, or rather it can be rather silly. It really makes me think of something along the lines of:

    "Boop!" came through the comms. The Thinkers gathered in the tent turned and looked at each other.

    "Did [insert cape name for Taylor] just 'boop' Leviathan?"

    "Yes."

    They group watched the screens, not quite believing what they were seeing.

    "And Leviathan is giving chase?"

    "Yes."

    "What has this world come to?"
     
  28. SwiftRosenthal

    SwiftRosenthal Connoisseur.

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    Then there's the shipping charm, Wind-Carried Passion and its upgrade Embracing Empty Passion. You can get up to all kinds of shenanigans with that.

     
  29. Master of Squirrel-fu

    Master of Squirrel-fu The Original

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    First, their not suicides, the Protectorate is slowly replacing the front lines of S-class fights with the Sisters, because the Sisters are replaceable Capes, if one dies another is probably going to be born in a day or so anyway that's just as good. The setting has Clones not being regarded as human, both legally and publicly, and the Protectorate doing media handling to dehumanize the sisters so they can keep them as shock troops because, again they pretty much just spawn more.

    And like you said it's a significant portion of the cape population, under the control of an already very powerful cape who's only getting more powerful. The plan was Take out the Sisters first because having 40k Blasters on the loose with a grudge is a bad thing. After the sisters were gone Cauldron would only have to deal with a significantly weakened Taylor. The shit hit the fan.
     
  30. Larekko12

    Larekko12 Connoisseur.

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    But it's a significant fraction of the cape population say it with me now on their payroll. Young malleable kissing the ground they walk on and ptv able.


    They would never turn on her. She's too damn useful and controllable. They wouldn't do a dehumanization campaign on a fucking hive mind.

    And they'd talk taylor into determination for the people at eighteen and junior weight determination at 14.
     
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