Ack
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Not as dark as Really Bad End. But still dark.
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Safe For Work Worm Ideas thread
- Thread starter Prince Charon
- Start date
Psyckosama
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Silly question on the Subject of OPM crossovers.
How would someone able to kill a Endbringer with a single punch be seen?
Esp if they basically popped up out of obscurity or at most rumor like Saitama tends to most of the time...
How would someone able to kill a Endbringer with a single punch be seen?
Esp if they basically popped up out of obscurity or at most rumor like Saitama tends to most of the time...
Psyckosama
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They'd be fine...
Saitama's powers tend to work somewhat on "Pure bullshit".
He's as much a Breaker as he is a Brute. Just look at the punch in this scene:
Xilph
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I mean, if you're going to ignore everything established in both canons and just treat Saitama as a perfectly strong being because the author said they write them as stronger than anything else in their universe despite that totally not being how their powers actually work and just something that exists at a meta level how are we meant to judge at all based off logic? Even if you assumed Saitama was strong enough you'd need a new level of super serious punch to one punch and endbringer and that level is shown to cause collateral damage even in OPM. Or is something like this not canon now?
If you're ignoring everything for the sake of what is perceived as Saitama's narrative though than just follow his narrative and have everyone treat him as unimpressive, because that's how Saitama works in their own narrative and that's what is king is it not?
Really sorry for being harsh, but ignoring how a character actually works in their story just because you like the character is something that gets on my nerves from too much time spent on VS forums and the like, and Saitama being circle jerked into infinity because they're definitively strongest in their own universe is common enough there. If you want to actually carry over a narrative go read Discworld, the narrative isn't a meta thing there so it actually makes sense to judge characters based off it, in pretty much every other universe ever (including OPM) the plot and narrative exist purely at a meta level and the actual story is just about the characters doing stuff. So yeah, too much exposure to stuff like Saitama being argued to one punch Superman or whoever just because his author writes him to be powerful.
If you're ignoring everything for the sake of what is perceived as Saitama's narrative though than just follow his narrative and have everyone treat him as unimpressive, because that's how Saitama works in their own narrative and that's what is king is it not?
Really sorry for being harsh, but ignoring how a character actually works in their story just because you like the character is something that gets on my nerves from too much time spent on VS forums and the like, and Saitama being circle jerked into infinity because they're definitively strongest in their own universe is common enough there. If you want to actually carry over a narrative go read Discworld, the narrative isn't a meta thing there so it actually makes sense to judge characters based off it, in pretty much every other universe ever (including OPM) the plot and narrative exist purely at a meta level and the actual story is just about the characters doing stuff. So yeah, too much exposure to stuff like Saitama being argued to one punch Superman or whoever just because his author writes him to be powerful.
Psyckosama
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I mean, if you're going to ignore everything established in both canons and just treat Saitama as a perfectly strong being because the author said they write them as stronger than anything else in their universe despite that totally not being how their powers actually work and just something that exists at a meta level how are we meant to judge at all based off logic? Even if you assumed Saitama was strong enough you'd need a new level of super serious punch to one punch and endbringer and that level is shown to cause collateral damage even in OPM. Or is something like this not canon now?
Gee. I must have missed the part where the punch also destroyed the city he was standing on... or the one where the punch that he used on the Sea King, which was hard enough to literally make the rain stop from the shockwave also blew out every window in the city and killed the people he as protecting from the resulting thermo-nuclear detonation...
Xliph, I don't give a flying fuck about your blatant hate-boner for Saitama or the fact that you're comically missing the point misunderstanding of the narrative of one punch man.
1) You don't sound harsh, you sound combative and openly biased.
2) I know exactly how Saitama works in character. He's hamstrung by his own depression and a sense of almost willful obliviousness. The fact is that he normally cuts physically unimpressive figure and frankly has a dislike for posturing and exposition who us having to deal with a world where appearance, politics, and showmanship matter more than actually behaving like a fucking hero because the hero association is extremely shallow and fundamentally corrupt.
3) This isn't a vs debate, and frankly I consider vs debates to be a breeding ground for loathsome idiot man-children.
The issue here is you obviously have no understanding of how to write. Authors do not care about power levels. Hell, they change all the fucking time. They are not vs debates. All that matters in a story is plot and narrative. Discworld simply hangs a lampshade on something every author already knows and shamelessly plays with it.
So, does anyone who actually has something remotely useful or on topic to say have anything to say?
seeing_octarine
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Good question, seeing as, y'know, this is a Worm thread. It's exceedingly clear you're a massive OPM fan, but all-Saitama-all-the-time is off topic and doesn't belong here.
Psyckosama
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For fucks sake. The post that originated this line of conversation is on this fucking page.
Pay some goddamned attention next time.
seeing_octarine
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That's nice, but as far as I can tell it's more accurate to say all the thinly veiled ONE PUUUUNCH posting originated about a week ago on page 611 of the NSFW Worm thread. Which was also you. Just make a OPM-specific ideas thread or something like all the other fandoms do.
Snake/Eater
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....what we have here, ...is a failure to communicate.
Prince Charon
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Inspired by something Ack is working on, but going in a somewhat different direction:
Amy's first encounter with the Undersiders takes place months earlier, possibly even before Simurgh attacks Canberra (though most likely after Taylor triggers), and is rather different. She witnesses Shadow Stalker using hunting bolts to try to kill Grue, despite the fact that as a Ward, using them is very much against the rules. She steps forward to shout at Stalker pretty much the way she would Vicky, and the Ward panics and tries to kill her, as she really doesn't want any witnesses around. The Undersiders try to protect Amy, some get injured, and then they run off, with Amy, on the dogs.
(EDIT: Amy may or may not be injured, but if so, not too badly.)
They take her to what Tattletale calls a disposable safehouse, where Amy heals them and refuses payment, and so Grue and Tt offer her 'a favor to be decided later, as long as it doesn't involve letting us get caught or turning ourselves in.' They also try to recruit her, but only in the softest sense, and she and Tt discuss cape ethics. They leave, and Amy calls Vicky to her location.
Meanwhile, Sophia is panicked as fuck, because no way in Hell is Panacea not telling Piggot what happened, and she can't find her. Time to run away, which her power is good for. How far she'll get is another matter.
At BBPRTHQ, Piggot is fuming, and manages to make terrible impressions on Amy, Vicky, and Carol, seeming to be more interested in browbeating Amy for not making any attempt to capture the Undersiders, than in owning up to the fact that a Ward under her command tried to murder Panacea (Brandish is in Lawyer Mode: it's more important to protect New Wave and her 'client' (Amy) from any possible fallout, than it is to give Amy the same lecture - also, she may be wondering if Amy is having some form of Stockholm Syndrome, because her own trigger trauma is hitting her a bit, here). Piggot is intensely pissed at Sophia, but she's also worried about the way this will splatter all over the local PRT's image, especially as BB is the only city (IIRC) where the Wards are directly under the PRT, rather than the Protectorate, meaning her plan to make this the norm is in danger. So, she isn't being all that rational about this, either.
Oh, and Lisa has reported the incident to Coil, who is rubbing his hands together.
Amy's first encounter with the Undersiders takes place months earlier, possibly even before Simurgh attacks Canberra (though most likely after Taylor triggers), and is rather different. She witnesses Shadow Stalker using hunting bolts to try to kill Grue, despite the fact that as a Ward, using them is very much against the rules. She steps forward to shout at Stalker pretty much the way she would Vicky, and the Ward panics and tries to kill her, as she really doesn't want any witnesses around. The Undersiders try to protect Amy, some get injured, and then they run off, with Amy, on the dogs.
(EDIT: Amy may or may not be injured, but if so, not too badly.)
They take her to what Tattletale calls a disposable safehouse, where Amy heals them and refuses payment, and so Grue and Tt offer her 'a favor to be decided later, as long as it doesn't involve letting us get caught or turning ourselves in.' They also try to recruit her, but only in the softest sense, and she and Tt discuss cape ethics. They leave, and Amy calls Vicky to her location.
Meanwhile, Sophia is panicked as fuck, because no way in Hell is Panacea not telling Piggot what happened, and she can't find her. Time to run away, which her power is good for. How far she'll get is another matter.
At BBPRTHQ, Piggot is fuming, and manages to make terrible impressions on Amy, Vicky, and Carol, seeming to be more interested in browbeating Amy for not making any attempt to capture the Undersiders, than in owning up to the fact that a Ward under her command tried to murder Panacea (Brandish is in Lawyer Mode: it's more important to protect New Wave and her 'client' (Amy) from any possible fallout, than it is to give Amy the same lecture - also, she may be wondering if Amy is having some form of Stockholm Syndrome, because her own trigger trauma is hitting her a bit, here). Piggot is intensely pissed at Sophia, but she's also worried about the way this will splatter all over the local PRT's image, especially as BB is the only city (IIRC) where the Wards are directly under the PRT, rather than the Protectorate, meaning her plan to make this the norm is in danger. So, she isn't being all that rational about this, either.
Oh, and Lisa has reported the incident to Coil, who is rubbing his hands together.
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vyor
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Ya, she wouldn't do this, esp. if amy got injured.
She may be a bit of a bigot, but that works for her here. She'd be utterly pissed at sophia and would do everything in her power to capture and detain her.
Prince Charon
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Difficult to say. People under stress don't make the best decisions, and Piggot has made some poor moves in canon (e.g. docking the Wards' pay because she was pissed at Glory Girl, whom the Wards had no effective control over).
This part I agree with, it's just that this has nothing to do with her talking to the Dallons. She'd give those orders first, but that would likely have been before meeting them, as they'd call first to get the PRT moving sooner rather than later.
primitive analyst
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I could have sworn the issue was Chris bringing out a death lazer before he had it cleared and getting it wrecked. The damage to the bank by GG was incidental to the issue but sure didn't help anything.
vyor
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It was. That pay docking was because of the alternator cannon.
And why would she snap at amy?
TanaNari
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Most I could see her doing is grilling Amy relentlessly for information about the Undersiders after (and implying that she should keep her trap shut about Sophia's being a psychopath)... and likely going a bit overboard in the "respect mah authoritay!" department... but even then, she's not going to push too hard when dealing with their only healer in town whose mother just so happens to be a respected public figure and lawyer. She'd do what is necessary to cover her considerable ass, then back off once she feels comfortable that the Dallons won't be going to the press.
That and Carol won't be terribly pleased with her adoptive daughter not doing everything in her power to stop the supervillain gang. Because between Piggot and Carol... the latter's the one who both can and will make Amy's life miserable.
Amy would likely take it much more harshly than anyone else... because that is how the Amy do.
That and Carol won't be terribly pleased with her adoptive daughter not doing everything in her power to stop the supervillain gang. Because between Piggot and Carol... the latter's the one who both can and will make Amy's life miserable.
Amy would likely take it much more harshly than anyone else... because that is how the Amy do.
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Prince Charon
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I was mainly looking at it through Amy's viewpoint then, I think. Possibly also Vicky's, as she'd be defensive about anyone going after her sister.
Prince Charon
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Very short alt-power Lisa (or maybe someone else, like Emma or Greg) idea. Has a Trump power allowing them to channel fictional magic-users, gaining the powers, weaknesses, and aspects of the personality of those characters, as well as being able to manifest items that they are strongly associated with (switching characters leaves some lingering personality traits, but the powers, weaknesses, and manifested items do not stay - magic items enchanted while channeling do remain, however). The better the Trump understands a particular character, and the more strongly they can make themself sympathize or empathize with them, the easier it is to channel that being.
Doing this will tend to cause some personality drift, especially if the Trump channels someone who has moral objections to the Trump's behavior, or just has better social skills, and/or a different perspective, as the character being channeled has access to the Trump's memories. E.g. Emma triggers while trapped in the middle of a fight between the E88 and a few visiting Adepts, and Harry and others show her how wrong she's been, leading to her trying to find a way to make everything up to Taylor, who for obvious reasons really doesn't trust her. Alternatively, Greg triggers, thinks he can go out and be a hero, now, and then learns that he should start at school.
vyor
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OedonWrithe
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Okay so I got bored and my inspiration died for some stuff and suddenly I've got the weirdest crossover and pseudo SI I've ever conceived. Sakarias, Lael, Aydan, and Isolde are mine, but Raleigh belongs to a friend. Two thirds of the crossover are Worm and Bloodborne. Kudos to anyone who can name the fandom Sakarias and Raleigh originate from.
Working title is "Squid Out of Water"
"Who are you?"
The pajama-clad young lady stood from her chair, hugging an arm to her abdomen as she hobbled over. "Well, I guess you could call me a lot of things. Nory's what my friends call me and what you'll be calling me. The names that matter though are OedonWrithe and Anti-R.O.B."
"You can't be Oedon. Aydan's Oedon... or at least a piece of her. It. Whatever," I protested.
"It's a username, numbnuts." She flinched, face scrunching up. "Ah, fuck, moved wrong. Okay, Lael, darling, light-of-my-life, I love you, but I'm bored as all hell. Never thought getting my spleen taken out would be so dull. Surgery's got me on the bench so I'm putting you and my other gay son into... something. I haven't decided yet."
Somehow, I only picked up one thing from that. "I am not a homosexual!"
She snorted, "I made you, kid. I know where Aydan puts her tentacles. Anyway. Destination? I don't know, both of you are too weird to make any sort of decision, but I might as well let you pick." She pulled out a stack of thin rectangular boxes. "Choose your favorite."
"I still don't understand, I-"
"Shhh. Less talky more choose-y."
I gulped. If this woman was capable of ripping me from my world and into this pocket dimension, I had no idea what she could do if I didn't obey.
"Oh, suck it up, Laely-poo, you're like twenty-five percent space squid. Just choose a game."
I stared. "You can read my mind?!"
"I am your mind. Can we get on with choosing your fate now?"
"No! I don't understand any of this! Who are you? What have you done with Aydan?! What do you mean to do with me?!"
Nory sighed. "Okay, I'll make Sakarias choose instead. Good job, you want to leave your fate in the hands of a drug-addled half-demon, be my guest."
"Fine!" I snatched up the boxes and fanned them out on the table. Each was different: some were books, others were strange flimsy cases with empty slots for some sort of disk. One stood out as just a bunch of hasty drawings of people with capes and the word "Worm" on a piece of paper taped to a sheet of cardboard.
I pointed at an oddly bound book with the image of a blond boy with a metal arm. "What is this?"
Nory grimaced. "The arm? It's a prosthesis. Or are you asking me about the world? Because I'm not giving you freebies. I will say that Sakarias would thrive there, but you would probably end up a neurotic mess the moment you stepped into Central. Philosopher's Stones and all that. Too many tortured souls."
Perhaps it would be best to not ask questions when I already knew the answers would be nonsensical. "I see."
There were more. One had a white-haired warrior brandishing a blade, another had some sort of masked assassin with a glowing symbol on his hand, and one had an orange-haired boy with a vastly oversized greatsword.
"Shit, that shouldn't be there," Nory muttered, grabbing the book with the orange-haired boy and tossing it behind her. "Kubo stopped making sense with this latest arc and even I can't keep track of the plot anymore. Everyone's just showboating and suddenly having power reveals. And dying. It's getting old fast. Though I could plop you in earlier but the setting is just on so many different planes and the rules are so out-there... shit, Bleach is just too small-time for you. You're a baby Great One and Sakarias is... well, Sakarias is his father's son," she concluded dubiously.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. If this girl was so willing with useless, nonsensical information, maybe I could squeeze a coherent hint out of her. "Which options would allow myself and this 'Sakarias' fellow to blend in?"
"You forgot I can read your mind. No hints."
"Damnable woman..." I glared at my options. Only one appeared to show a world that wasn't about warriors and monsters. I slid the cardboard rectangle with the caped characters towards her. "This one."
Her eyes went wide. "Oh no, I'm gonna-" she laughed, pain flashing over her face as it devolved into little hiccoughs of pain. "Fuck. Okay. Ow."
"Do you require assistance?" She might be some sort of otherworldly psychopath, but she was still a lady in need.
Nory waved me off and hugged a throw pillow to her stomach. "No, no, it's just the abdominal stitches and stuff. It's you who might need help." She pulled out a coin. "Heads for Aydan, tails for Isolde." A flip later and she chortled. "Looks like you get Isolde as your starter companion. Oh well, at least Mollie will be entertained."
What? She was sending me off into Blood knew where without Aydan? And with that Vileblood or Crow or whatever she was…?! "I don't understand. Who is Mollie? Where are you putting me?!"
She tsked and ignored me. "To make up for the lack of firepower on your team, I'm gonna give you a sliver of Oedon. Sight, probably, so you'll at least know what you're dealing with. Okay, listen, while Isolde is your companion and you have some control over her actions, Sakarias is just a party member. He's going to have his own things to deal with, but he'll probably lean on you a lot. Boy's a powerhouse but most of that strength is used up carrying his baggage. He'll need you and his companion for emotional support or Brockton Bay may get their own personal Heartbreaker. Don't worry, it will all make sense when you wake up."
"When I wake up… what are you talking about?"
[CONFUSION] [ANNOYANCE] [IDENTITY]
What. "Who the fuck are you?"
[INDIGENCE] [PRIMACY]
"I asked you second!"
It began to reply but the connection broke when something jostled me violently.
"Oi, tosspot."
Roused by Isolde's incessant prods, my eyelids creaked open. "Wha- What's going on?"
"I don't fucking know. Some bloody lady-cow up and started blethering shite and now we're in some jigger with gangers all about and ehs startin ta get a wee bit frit. Some shady neds 'ave been through an' they peeped at me all funny--"
Ugh, what the fuck. I flailed tiredly, trying to figure out how to use human limbs again. I would have clamped my hand down on her mouth, but my fingers hit ivory before they got that far. Crowfeather gear. Right. "Shut up. I don't understand a thing you're saying."
Isolde wrung her hands. "Come on, les gid ye ow o' tis pill o' tremmel. Feck." She pulled me up from where I was lying, which turned out to be a pile of garbage bags. Ew. I'd have to pull out an extra set of my clothes. Hopefully the being who dropped me here had deigned to allow me access to the messengers.
"Um, excuse me."
I turned to the hesitant voice, resting a hand on a rusted trash receptacle to steady myself. Standing a cautious distance away were two near-identical young men. One had his carnation-pink hair cut short and unruly, while the other had his tied back. They were tall, scrawny, and short-haired one was thin like he rarely ate.
The thin man gave a hesitant smile. There was something off about him. "Hi. Are one of you guys named 'Lael?'"
"Who's asking?" I huffed.
"Casimir Sudou -- ah, no, she probably didn't give you that name, did she?" the thin one began before stepping forward and giving a noble bow. "Sakarias Casimir Ichirou Venomania, botanist, scholar, and magician."
I narrowed my eyes. "She talked to you, too?"
He straightened and shrugged. "Of course. A muse must be on good terms with their mun, after all. I'm used to this, though Raleigh's a surprise. So I am to assume that you're Lael?"
If he was going to be all enigmatic and prim about it, so would I. My chest inflated. "I am Lael of Yharnam, Lord Executioner, Consort to the Moon, Slayer of Beasts, and son of Logarius and Iuliana. You'd be that woman's 'gay son,' then?"
The other man -- Raleigh? -- snorted. "Is that it? Bit of an understatement."
Sakarias smacked his double playfully on the arm. "Knock it off. Anyway, since we're in the same boat, I figure we should stick together. Though, you're going to need to blend in better… especially your birdie friend, there."
Isolde crossed her arms. "The only other garb I've got with me is a set o' Cainhurst Knight regalia." At least she'd calmed down enough that her accent diminished. "It's all frills and puffs."
I possibly had a solution to our problems. Experimentally, I reached out for my messengers, asking for a pair of simple Yharnamite civilian clothes. I knew I had some stored away. Thankfully, mist formed at my feet and the little hideous shriveled men held out a parcel of folded clothes.
Taking the package, I thanked and dismissed them.
Sakarias whistled. "Neat trick. Teach me how to do it, sometime?"
I shook my head, distributing the clothing between Isolde and I. Something about Sakarias's mannerisms still bothered me. "Unfortunately, my understanding of the arcane comes from blood transfusions from my… benefactor." Yeah, that was a safe word to use to describe Aydan. Others would have been 'girlfriend,' 'deity,' or 'crazy pet squid.'
The scholar nodded in understanding. "Ah, the real esoteric stuff. Haven't had anyone to talk to about such advanced topics since Elluka was last around. I think you and I will get along well, Lael of Yharnam."
I disagreed but held my tongue. The two pink-haired fools kept watch while Isolde and I changed into the old, ratty civilian clothing. From what they were wearing, we still wouldn't blend in but it was better than my Executioner robes or Isolde's Hunter of Hunters uniform. Isolde's dark hair was cut short and ragged, like she'd done it with her Blades of Mercy or something. I hadn't seen her out of mask since... since before I'd met my Aunt Maria, actually. I'd never seen her without her full crowfeather garb after she'd made her pledge to Eileen. Her eyes were still as red as a vicious Yharnam moon, however.
We got out on the street. Isolde was jumpy as fuck and kept staring at things. Raleigh, once I got a closer look at him, had a few telltale signs of shock. Meanwhile, I figured out what was so strange about Sakarias. The man was peaked, like, he couldn't seem to focus his eyes on anything and twitched occasionally.
Isolde was actually the first one to say anything about it. "You okay, mister?"
Sakarias blinked a few times before he actually processed what she'd said. "Oh, yes, I'm fine, thank you."
Raleigh grabbed his arm. "No, he isn't." The man sighed. "It's getting dark. Let's find someplace to lie low and figure out whatever in the name of Levia-Behemo we're supposed to do here."
For once, I actually agreed with the pink-haired man.
We found a place Raleigh called a 'nightclub.' The sign out front said "Palanquin." We got in line and I immediately realized this wasn't going to work. A large man stood at the door and inspected each person's plastic square -- a card of sorts, I assumed -- and decided whether or not they were let inside. None of us had these cards. A looming apprehension came upon me as we reached the front of the line and the guard crossed his arms expectantly.
"Tell Gregor you need to see Faultline."
I jumped a little at the sound of the voice in my head. "Hello?" I asked out loud. You know, like an idiot.
"Shut up, darling. Now, I need you to act confused say these exact words--"
I looked up at the large man and swallowed. "We were told to speak to Faultline. My companions and I… I woke up in some alley and I asked some guy and he said that this Faultline person helps people like us."
Working title is "Squid Out of Water"
"Who are you?"
The pajama-clad young lady stood from her chair, hugging an arm to her abdomen as she hobbled over. "Well, I guess you could call me a lot of things. Nory's what my friends call me and what you'll be calling me. The names that matter though are OedonWrithe and Anti-R.O.B."
"You can't be Oedon. Aydan's Oedon... or at least a piece of her. It. Whatever," I protested.
"It's a username, numbnuts." She flinched, face scrunching up. "Ah, fuck, moved wrong. Okay, Lael, darling, light-of-my-life, I love you, but I'm bored as all hell. Never thought getting my spleen taken out would be so dull. Surgery's got me on the bench so I'm putting you and my other gay son into... something. I haven't decided yet."
Somehow, I only picked up one thing from that. "I am not a homosexual!"
She snorted, "I made you, kid. I know where Aydan puts her tentacles. Anyway. Destination? I don't know, both of you are too weird to make any sort of decision, but I might as well let you pick." She pulled out a stack of thin rectangular boxes. "Choose your favorite."
"I still don't understand, I-"
"Shhh. Less talky more choose-y."
I gulped. If this woman was capable of ripping me from my world and into this pocket dimension, I had no idea what she could do if I didn't obey.
"Oh, suck it up, Laely-poo, you're like twenty-five percent space squid. Just choose a game."
I stared. "You can read my mind?!"
"I am your mind. Can we get on with choosing your fate now?"
"No! I don't understand any of this! Who are you? What have you done with Aydan?! What do you mean to do with me?!"
Nory sighed. "Okay, I'll make Sakarias choose instead. Good job, you want to leave your fate in the hands of a drug-addled half-demon, be my guest."
"Fine!" I snatched up the boxes and fanned them out on the table. Each was different: some were books, others were strange flimsy cases with empty slots for some sort of disk. One stood out as just a bunch of hasty drawings of people with capes and the word "Worm" on a piece of paper taped to a sheet of cardboard.
I pointed at an oddly bound book with the image of a blond boy with a metal arm. "What is this?"
Nory grimaced. "The arm? It's a prosthesis. Or are you asking me about the world? Because I'm not giving you freebies. I will say that Sakarias would thrive there, but you would probably end up a neurotic mess the moment you stepped into Central. Philosopher's Stones and all that. Too many tortured souls."
Perhaps it would be best to not ask questions when I already knew the answers would be nonsensical. "I see."
There were more. One had a white-haired warrior brandishing a blade, another had some sort of masked assassin with a glowing symbol on his hand, and one had an orange-haired boy with a vastly oversized greatsword.
"Shit, that shouldn't be there," Nory muttered, grabbing the book with the orange-haired boy and tossing it behind her. "Kubo stopped making sense with this latest arc and even I can't keep track of the plot anymore. Everyone's just showboating and suddenly having power reveals. And dying. It's getting old fast. Though I could plop you in earlier but the setting is just on so many different planes and the rules are so out-there... shit, Bleach is just too small-time for you. You're a baby Great One and Sakarias is... well, Sakarias is his father's son," she concluded dubiously.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. If this girl was so willing with useless, nonsensical information, maybe I could squeeze a coherent hint out of her. "Which options would allow myself and this 'Sakarias' fellow to blend in?"
"You forgot I can read your mind. No hints."
"Damnable woman..." I glared at my options. Only one appeared to show a world that wasn't about warriors and monsters. I slid the cardboard rectangle with the caped characters towards her. "This one."
Her eyes went wide. "Oh no, I'm gonna-" she laughed, pain flashing over her face as it devolved into little hiccoughs of pain. "Fuck. Okay. Ow."
"Do you require assistance?" She might be some sort of otherworldly psychopath, but she was still a lady in need.
Nory waved me off and hugged a throw pillow to her stomach. "No, no, it's just the abdominal stitches and stuff. It's you who might need help." She pulled out a coin. "Heads for Aydan, tails for Isolde." A flip later and she chortled. "Looks like you get Isolde as your starter companion. Oh well, at least Mollie will be entertained."
What? She was sending me off into Blood knew where without Aydan? And with that Vileblood or Crow or whatever she was…?! "I don't understand. Who is Mollie? Where are you putting me?!"
She tsked and ignored me. "To make up for the lack of firepower on your team, I'm gonna give you a sliver of Oedon. Sight, probably, so you'll at least know what you're dealing with. Okay, listen, while Isolde is your companion and you have some control over her actions, Sakarias is just a party member. He's going to have his own things to deal with, but he'll probably lean on you a lot. Boy's a powerhouse but most of that strength is used up carrying his baggage. He'll need you and his companion for emotional support or Brockton Bay may get their own personal Heartbreaker. Don't worry, it will all make sense when you wake up."
"When I wake up… what are you talking about?"
[CONFUSION] [ANNOYANCE] [IDENTITY]
What. "Who the fuck are you?"
[INDIGENCE] [PRIMACY]
"I asked you second!"
It began to reply but the connection broke when something jostled me violently.
"Oi, tosspot."
Roused by Isolde's incessant prods, my eyelids creaked open. "Wha- What's going on?"
"I don't fucking know. Some bloody lady-cow up and started blethering shite and now we're in some jigger with gangers all about and ehs startin ta get a wee bit frit. Some shady neds 'ave been through an' they peeped at me all funny--"
Ugh, what the fuck. I flailed tiredly, trying to figure out how to use human limbs again. I would have clamped my hand down on her mouth, but my fingers hit ivory before they got that far. Crowfeather gear. Right. "Shut up. I don't understand a thing you're saying."
Isolde wrung her hands. "Come on, les gid ye ow o' tis pill o' tremmel. Feck." She pulled me up from where I was lying, which turned out to be a pile of garbage bags. Ew. I'd have to pull out an extra set of my clothes. Hopefully the being who dropped me here had deigned to allow me access to the messengers.
"Um, excuse me."
I turned to the hesitant voice, resting a hand on a rusted trash receptacle to steady myself. Standing a cautious distance away were two near-identical young men. One had his carnation-pink hair cut short and unruly, while the other had his tied back. They were tall, scrawny, and short-haired one was thin like he rarely ate.
The thin man gave a hesitant smile. There was something off about him. "Hi. Are one of you guys named 'Lael?'"
"Who's asking?" I huffed.
"Casimir Sudou -- ah, no, she probably didn't give you that name, did she?" the thin one began before stepping forward and giving a noble bow. "Sakarias Casimir Ichirou Venomania, botanist, scholar, and magician."
I narrowed my eyes. "She talked to you, too?"
He straightened and shrugged. "Of course. A muse must be on good terms with their mun, after all. I'm used to this, though Raleigh's a surprise. So I am to assume that you're Lael?"
If he was going to be all enigmatic and prim about it, so would I. My chest inflated. "I am Lael of Yharnam, Lord Executioner, Consort to the Moon, Slayer of Beasts, and son of Logarius and Iuliana. You'd be that woman's 'gay son,' then?"
The other man -- Raleigh? -- snorted. "Is that it? Bit of an understatement."
Sakarias smacked his double playfully on the arm. "Knock it off. Anyway, since we're in the same boat, I figure we should stick together. Though, you're going to need to blend in better… especially your birdie friend, there."
Isolde crossed her arms. "The only other garb I've got with me is a set o' Cainhurst Knight regalia." At least she'd calmed down enough that her accent diminished. "It's all frills and puffs."
I possibly had a solution to our problems. Experimentally, I reached out for my messengers, asking for a pair of simple Yharnamite civilian clothes. I knew I had some stored away. Thankfully, mist formed at my feet and the little hideous shriveled men held out a parcel of folded clothes.
Taking the package, I thanked and dismissed them.
Sakarias whistled. "Neat trick. Teach me how to do it, sometime?"
I shook my head, distributing the clothing between Isolde and I. Something about Sakarias's mannerisms still bothered me. "Unfortunately, my understanding of the arcane comes from blood transfusions from my… benefactor." Yeah, that was a safe word to use to describe Aydan. Others would have been 'girlfriend,' 'deity,' or 'crazy pet squid.'
The scholar nodded in understanding. "Ah, the real esoteric stuff. Haven't had anyone to talk to about such advanced topics since Elluka was last around. I think you and I will get along well, Lael of Yharnam."
I disagreed but held my tongue. The two pink-haired fools kept watch while Isolde and I changed into the old, ratty civilian clothing. From what they were wearing, we still wouldn't blend in but it was better than my Executioner robes or Isolde's Hunter of Hunters uniform. Isolde's dark hair was cut short and ragged, like she'd done it with her Blades of Mercy or something. I hadn't seen her out of mask since... since before I'd met my Aunt Maria, actually. I'd never seen her without her full crowfeather garb after she'd made her pledge to Eileen. Her eyes were still as red as a vicious Yharnam moon, however.
We got out on the street. Isolde was jumpy as fuck and kept staring at things. Raleigh, once I got a closer look at him, had a few telltale signs of shock. Meanwhile, I figured out what was so strange about Sakarias. The man was peaked, like, he couldn't seem to focus his eyes on anything and twitched occasionally.
Isolde was actually the first one to say anything about it. "You okay, mister?"
Sakarias blinked a few times before he actually processed what she'd said. "Oh, yes, I'm fine, thank you."
Raleigh grabbed his arm. "No, he isn't." The man sighed. "It's getting dark. Let's find someplace to lie low and figure out whatever in the name of Levia-Behemo we're supposed to do here."
For once, I actually agreed with the pink-haired man.
We found a place Raleigh called a 'nightclub.' The sign out front said "Palanquin." We got in line and I immediately realized this wasn't going to work. A large man stood at the door and inspected each person's plastic square -- a card of sorts, I assumed -- and decided whether or not they were let inside. None of us had these cards. A looming apprehension came upon me as we reached the front of the line and the guard crossed his arms expectantly.
"Tell Gregor you need to see Faultline."
I jumped a little at the sound of the voice in my head. "Hello?" I asked out loud. You know, like an idiot.
"Shut up, darling. Now, I need you to act confused say these exact words--"
I looked up at the large man and swallowed. "We were told to speak to Faultline. My companions and I… I woke up in some alley and I asked some guy and he said that this Faultline person helps people like us."
- Joined
- Feb 26, 2016
- Messages
- 291
New idea popped into my head...
---
When Taylor is in the locker screaming for help the door is suddenly yanked off. She is pulled out, cleaned up, and healed.
She looks and sees this guy : http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/villains/images/6/65/The_Lord_of_Darkness.jpg
He smiles at her and says "Hey you alright there Taylor? I got you out of there in time didn't I? Anyway let me introduce myself. I am the Devil. Satan. Lucifer. And I've got an offer for you now."
Taylor just faints dead away.
Satan : (rolls his eyes) They always do that.
Satan : (carrries Taylor out of there and to the local park now. Wakes her up. Looks concerned too.) Hey, you alright now? Not gonna faint on me again are you? I'm hoping that we can work out a deal today.
---
So.
What do you guys think of it?
---
When Taylor is in the locker screaming for help the door is suddenly yanked off. She is pulled out, cleaned up, and healed.
She looks and sees this guy : http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/villains/images/6/65/The_Lord_of_Darkness.jpg
He smiles at her and says "Hey you alright there Taylor? I got you out of there in time didn't I? Anyway let me introduce myself. I am the Devil. Satan. Lucifer. And I've got an offer for you now."
Taylor just faints dead away.
Satan : (rolls his eyes) They always do that.
Satan : (carrries Taylor out of there and to the local park now. Wakes her up. Looks concerned too.) Hey, you alright now? Not gonna faint on me again are you? I'm hoping that we can work out a deal today.
---
So.
What do you guys think of it?
Xilph
Well worn.
- Joined
- Dec 27, 2014
- Messages
- 6,430
I need the other half of the premise, there's no way at all to work out where it would go from there really, that should be the first half of a setup. You really need it defied more as to what happens to judge, anything from Taylor having agreed to a deal and having to work out what it was in otherwise mundane life to having discovered she's actually the princess of hell and a story focused on pseudo-aristocratic politics in a demonic society while she struggles to adapt and deal with her new responsibilities.
i really have no idea where you'll be going with this, but I doubt it's either option I mentioned.
i really have no idea where you'll be going with this, but I doubt it's either option I mentioned.
kamenhero25
The Masked Writer
- Joined
- Feb 17, 2015
- Messages
- 5,542
Taylor woke to the sensation of falling. The world seemed to spin around her as she tumbled down, images flickering past her much too fast for her eyes to catch. Below her, she could see a checkerboard floor growing closer and closer. She closed her eyes, bracing for impact. Suddenly, a gust of wind from below caught her and her fall slowed to a crawl. She felt her dress (wait, why was she wearing a dress) puff up around her and slow her fall almost like a parachute. Her feet touched down gently, with a soft click against the tiles. "What the…" She shook her head, trying to remember how she'd gotten here. The last thing she remembered was the darkness of her locker and then… falling. She looked around the small room, but it was frustratingly empty, save for a mirror on the wall behind her and a door ahead of her. The hole above her was too shrouded in shadow for her to actually see where she'd fallen down from, so that was no help. She walked over to the door and carefully opened it, revealing a hallway nearly identical to the room she was in. "What on Earth…"
"Not on Earth my dear."
Taylor gave a small yelp as she spun around, expecting to see someone behind her. Instead, she saw a cat. It was certainly a mangy thing, with torn, matted fur and a body so slim it looked like it might be starving. And its face was… wrong. Too… human. It stared at her with too large eyes and a wicked little grin spread across its face. "Did… that couldn't have been you, right?"
"You're going to have to be more specific," the cat said, speaking in a surprisingly deep male voice. "Do you mean the speaking? Because that was most certainly me."
Taylor's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "A talking cat… I've gone crazy haven't I? I snapped and this is me being nuts."
The cat tilted his head. "Possibly. Possibly not."
"Well you can't be normal. I mean, I guess you could be someone who can turn in to a cat or an illusion or something. But that doesn't explain where I am."
"You're right here of course," the cat replied. "Unless you're asking where here is. In which case, only you can answer that question. After all, this is your place, not mine."
"You're extremely unhelpful."
The cat's grin actually widened. "And what makes you think that I'm here to be helpful?"
Taylor groaned. "I… I'm just going to go this way and see if anything makes sense."
"Have fun. And remember, trust your instincts. Down here, the only thing you can be certain of is your own senses. And sometimes you can't even trust them..." The cat faded out of existence, his disturbed grin the last thing to vanish.
"I've definitely gone crazy." Taylor adjusted the blue dress as she walked down the hall. How had she even gotten in to this thing? She hadn't worn a dress in years. Not since she was a little girl when her mom had still been around. She rounded the corner at the end of the hall to find another small door. "Only way forward I guess…" She opened the door and stepped out into… what looked like Brockton Bay. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it an abstract artist's interpretation of Brockton Bay. The angles of the buildings were all wrong and the shadows seemed to stretch endlessly, covering the entire off-kilter slum in darkness. "This… this is impossible…" she muttered to herself.
"Impossible is such an ugly word," the cat's voice proclaimed. Taylor spun to find him sitting calmly on top of a crooked street light. "I prefer improbably or nonsensical."
"You again… okay, so what is this place?"
"It's the slums of course. All of the dregs are stuck down here, toiling away for the queen up top. I wouldn't go too much deeper if I were you. They can get rather… hostile to outsiders. Desperation makes people do foolish things."
Taylor could feel her irritation growing with the deliberating obtuse animal. "Then is there another way out of here?"
"Not that I'm aware of, no."
Taylor growled with frustration. "Fine. Then do you have any useful advice?"
"Find something to defend yourself. If I recall, a most lovely knife was laying around here somewhere."
"I can't just kill people!"
"Oh Taylor. The people down here are only as real as you believe them too be. They're rather irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. And you could certainly do with a little spring cleaning."
"What are you…"
The cat grinned again. "You'll see soon enough my dear. And I'll be seeing you soon." With that, the cat disappeared again, leaving Taylor alone on the shadowed street.
-----------------------------------
We're All Mad Here (Worm/American McGee's Alice)
"Not on Earth my dear."
Taylor gave a small yelp as she spun around, expecting to see someone behind her. Instead, she saw a cat. It was certainly a mangy thing, with torn, matted fur and a body so slim it looked like it might be starving. And its face was… wrong. Too… human. It stared at her with too large eyes and a wicked little grin spread across its face. "Did… that couldn't have been you, right?"
"You're going to have to be more specific," the cat said, speaking in a surprisingly deep male voice. "Do you mean the speaking? Because that was most certainly me."
Taylor's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "A talking cat… I've gone crazy haven't I? I snapped and this is me being nuts."
The cat tilted his head. "Possibly. Possibly not."
"Well you can't be normal. I mean, I guess you could be someone who can turn in to a cat or an illusion or something. But that doesn't explain where I am."
"You're right here of course," the cat replied. "Unless you're asking where here is. In which case, only you can answer that question. After all, this is your place, not mine."
"You're extremely unhelpful."
The cat's grin actually widened. "And what makes you think that I'm here to be helpful?"
Taylor groaned. "I… I'm just going to go this way and see if anything makes sense."
"Have fun. And remember, trust your instincts. Down here, the only thing you can be certain of is your own senses. And sometimes you can't even trust them..." The cat faded out of existence, his disturbed grin the last thing to vanish.
"I've definitely gone crazy." Taylor adjusted the blue dress as she walked down the hall. How had she even gotten in to this thing? She hadn't worn a dress in years. Not since she was a little girl when her mom had still been around. She rounded the corner at the end of the hall to find another small door. "Only way forward I guess…" She opened the door and stepped out into… what looked like Brockton Bay. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it an abstract artist's interpretation of Brockton Bay. The angles of the buildings were all wrong and the shadows seemed to stretch endlessly, covering the entire off-kilter slum in darkness. "This… this is impossible…" she muttered to herself.
"Impossible is such an ugly word," the cat's voice proclaimed. Taylor spun to find him sitting calmly on top of a crooked street light. "I prefer improbably or nonsensical."
"You again… okay, so what is this place?"
"It's the slums of course. All of the dregs are stuck down here, toiling away for the queen up top. I wouldn't go too much deeper if I were you. They can get rather… hostile to outsiders. Desperation makes people do foolish things."
Taylor could feel her irritation growing with the deliberating obtuse animal. "Then is there another way out of here?"
"Not that I'm aware of, no."
Taylor growled with frustration. "Fine. Then do you have any useful advice?"
"Find something to defend yourself. If I recall, a most lovely knife was laying around here somewhere."
"I can't just kill people!"
"Oh Taylor. The people down here are only as real as you believe them too be. They're rather irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. And you could certainly do with a little spring cleaning."
"What are you…"
The cat grinned again. "You'll see soon enough my dear. And I'll be seeing you soon." With that, the cat disappeared again, leaving Taylor alone on the shadowed street.
-----------------------------------
We're All Mad Here (Worm/American McGee's Alice)
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vyor
Oh that's cute
- Joined
- Jul 29, 2015
- Messages
- 14,497
Snake/Eater
Myth Maker of the North
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2015
- Messages
- 6,439
Why not Write a Worm as if it was told by American McGee?
TheWarlord
Making the rounds.
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- Jan 30, 2015
- Messages
- 30
For only $19.99...
Psyckosama
Connoisseur.
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2013
- Messages
- 11,297
Okay, silly OPM based idea here that actually could work with Worm...
When Annette died, Danny triggered. His power was based on his own feelings of inadequacy at being unable to protect the people he loves....
So he gained the ability to become strong. Very strong. He didn't become strong at first, but his natural peek was removed. He basically was blessed with the potential for Infiniate Gainz. Every workout would show strong results, a boost in power and strength that would only become stronger over time... this was coupled with a mild stranger ability that made him, well, generally forgettable and easy to miss.
Realizing the nature of his power he began an intense daily workout from one of his old fitness books of 100 pushups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats, and 10km run every day...
In the years since her death he's been actually working as an independent hero on the side... not a very active one, true, but he's basically been doing his best to give the Dockworker's Union some heavy duty backup. When the gangs show up, he shows up and beats the shit out of them, the and because he's making his best effort to really not attract much attention, for fear of the union getting attacked, and a stark terror that he might end up bringing it home and threaten the one thing that really matters to him, his stranger ability kicked in and they never really realize they got their asses kicked by a balding man in a track suit and not one of the other gangs...
Which leads to him having a second trigger when he finds out that despite his efforts to keep the neighborhood clean... his daughter still was attacked. The shock causes his powers to go haywire and he looses his hair from the emotional stress... his gainz, no longer being a linear progression are now exponential and in addition, he gained a breaker/shaker ability that allows him to use insane degrees of power without destroying himself or those around him...
With the end result being that by the time Taylor first goes out to fight Lung, he's somewhat on his wits end... while he was very strong before, easily a mid level brute due to the fact that his body seemed to always get stronger and tougher inch by inch... now his strength was starting to hit the business end of the J-curve.
This of course takes his existing depression and drives it almost to the level of an existential crisis. Despite his power, he couldn't protect that what was most precious to him. He's too strong to use his powers against even the gangs to the point that even the mild thrill he got out of protecting his own. And he can't even just wipe that smile off Alan Barns and Principle Blackwells faces without reducing them to rapidly expanding clouds of vicera... on the low end. It makes him feel weak and impotent.... he keeps trying, keeps pushing, because in the end he really wants to help people but... Being Danny is Suffering.
Now with that established, the question is...why does Taylor realize her old man is a cape too?
Before her first run? After? Or hell, when Leviathan shows up?
I could see it. Realizing that a fucking Kaiju is about to show up, he needs to deal with it in person... so he ends up pulling together a crude costume... a funky yellow Track Suit he still doesn't understand why he bought it, a pair of red rain boots, a pair of red rubber gloves, a belt that honestly used to be one of Annettes, and a cape that to be frank, was off the Alexandria costume Taylor wore for Halloween when she was 12...
He forgets to use a mask but his stranger ability makes it so people don't really recognize him very well. He's just some bald guy in a crude and stupid costume. Except for one... the one person who'd never forget his face. Taylor.
She sees her father, dressed like an idiot... stand up to the Endbringer. And then... he punches it... as hard as he can...
And... well.. this happens.
When Annette died, Danny triggered. His power was based on his own feelings of inadequacy at being unable to protect the people he loves....
So he gained the ability to become strong. Very strong. He didn't become strong at first, but his natural peek was removed. He basically was blessed with the potential for Infiniate Gainz. Every workout would show strong results, a boost in power and strength that would only become stronger over time... this was coupled with a mild stranger ability that made him, well, generally forgettable and easy to miss.
Realizing the nature of his power he began an intense daily workout from one of his old fitness books of 100 pushups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats, and 10km run every day...
In the years since her death he's been actually working as an independent hero on the side... not a very active one, true, but he's basically been doing his best to give the Dockworker's Union some heavy duty backup. When the gangs show up, he shows up and beats the shit out of them, the and because he's making his best effort to really not attract much attention, for fear of the union getting attacked, and a stark terror that he might end up bringing it home and threaten the one thing that really matters to him, his stranger ability kicked in and they never really realize they got their asses kicked by a balding man in a track suit and not one of the other gangs...
Which leads to him having a second trigger when he finds out that despite his efforts to keep the neighborhood clean... his daughter still was attacked. The shock causes his powers to go haywire and he looses his hair from the emotional stress... his gainz, no longer being a linear progression are now exponential and in addition, he gained a breaker/shaker ability that allows him to use insane degrees of power without destroying himself or those around him...
With the end result being that by the time Taylor first goes out to fight Lung, he's somewhat on his wits end... while he was very strong before, easily a mid level brute due to the fact that his body seemed to always get stronger and tougher inch by inch... now his strength was starting to hit the business end of the J-curve.
This of course takes his existing depression and drives it almost to the level of an existential crisis. Despite his power, he couldn't protect that what was most precious to him. He's too strong to use his powers against even the gangs to the point that even the mild thrill he got out of protecting his own. And he can't even just wipe that smile off Alan Barns and Principle Blackwells faces without reducing them to rapidly expanding clouds of vicera... on the low end. It makes him feel weak and impotent.... he keeps trying, keeps pushing, because in the end he really wants to help people but... Being Danny is Suffering.
Now with that established, the question is...why does Taylor realize her old man is a cape too?
Before her first run? After? Or hell, when Leviathan shows up?
I could see it. Realizing that a fucking Kaiju is about to show up, he needs to deal with it in person... so he ends up pulling together a crude costume... a funky yellow Track Suit he still doesn't understand why he bought it, a pair of red rain boots, a pair of red rubber gloves, a belt that honestly used to be one of Annettes, and a cape that to be frank, was off the Alexandria costume Taylor wore for Halloween when she was 12...
He forgets to use a mask but his stranger ability makes it so people don't really recognize him very well. He's just some bald guy in a crude and stupid costume. Except for one... the one person who'd never forget his face. Taylor.
She sees her father, dressed like an idiot... stand up to the Endbringer. And then... he punches it... as hard as he can...
And... well.. this happens.
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