OOC Discussion

Still no Feedback for Lars huh? Well how about for Manami? There will be some more CCPs available soon (if people would write some posts!) and I wanted to try my hand at making a D level. Now I know what people are probably going to say: D levels are not supposed to be fighters, but bear with me here: I have made two Cs and an S, and they are all terrible at fighting. Aaron is waaay too slow, Lars can hardly do anything real, and Lucas (rest him!) was MADE of electricity and could not throw a damn lightning bolt to save his life. He had to fight with a literal playground swing set chain.


So I want a fighter this time. A D level genetic weapon bred for combat from birth. D levels are supposed to be crap at combat. So I couldn't help myself. Playing against type is my most favoritest thing. She has a lot of limitations, including one of the hardest ones to get around in comics. Underwater theme. Baltimore is on the water, but somehow I don't think that will help with this. Suggestions on how to get her relevant to the story are most welcome. (Or any other feedback, really.)


Hamasaki, M

uzIVXjI.png



  • AspectScale
    COUR▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮08
    ALTR▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮08
    ORDR▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮08
    KIND▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮04
    PRCT▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮02
    DIPL▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮06
  • Full Name

    Manami Hamasaki

    Nicknames

    Umi

    Codename

    Stingray

    Gender

    Female

    Age

    23

    Rank

    D

    Limiter

    Class 4 chip (damaged)

    Role

    Escaped Bioweapon Experiment

 
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Well, your Heroism stats are a bit wonky, might wanna fix that. Other than that, I don't have much to say.... I'm honestly not sure this would qualify as D Rank. I suppose it might if you factor in the specificity, but she is very powerful.


She is an awesome character, though.


I'll take a look at Lars later!
 
Fixed heroism. Good spot. Those little boxes are hard to count. Makes my eyes go funny.


She definitely does have destructive potential, and I am a little vague on whether stats can shift during transformations or not.


I was sort of aiming at a cross between hulk and wolverine, but limiting the violence to under water seems like it migh squeak under the wire for D.


Obviously she has never been officially tested, and the level four limiter hints that she might have even greater potential that is suppressed.


It was fun imagining a character bred to have no will or original thoughts learning to explore those locked off parts of herself.


The transformative aspect took some inspiration from Hannah. In fact there is even less of her self involved when she becomes the stingray.
 
@Gus


Manami sure is interesting. I like her, to be honest. But the most difficult thing to do is find a way to integrate her into the story. Aside from that, the worst of both worlds weakness seems like it would also make it difficult for her to successfully stay in the story, unless the GMs have some underwater plans.
 
Aldur said:
@Gus
Manami sure is interesting. I like her, to be honest. But the most difficult thing to do is find a way to integrate her into the story. Aside from that, the worst of both worlds weakness seems like it would also make it difficult for her to successfully stay in the story, unless the GMs have some underwater plans.
Click to expand...
Yeah, I have been thinking about that. Best idea so far is that they run into trouble with the Knights and boat gets sunk near sparrows point. Left with no flight option they come to the school for help. I can think of no safer place for them to take refuge. To quote both young AND old professor X, "I feel a great swell of pity for anyone who comes to my school, looking for trouble."


As for worst of both worlds, her parents could take her for a swim in the harbor every afternoon before classes start. In docile mode she would be a model student. :)
 
Be the change you wish to see in the world, so they say. While waiting for posts, I REFUSED to do any housework whatsoever, and instead wrote four distinct responses to the "Mirror of Erised" prompt. That's right. Four. Ante up, y'all or I am going to start on writing one for Blaze and Ooatu.


I want to see posts going into post holes, post haste! Start digging!

Solo


Aaron looks into the mirror, and the first thing he notices is how old he has gotten. That there is a careworn face. Lotta gray hairs in that beard. He juts his chin upward to take a closer look, when the second thing occurs to him. He can see his face. Plain as day. No blur. No distortion. The shock of it stuns him. He glances down at his hands. Still blurred. Holds them up to the mirror. Their reflection is crystal clear. How odd!


He peers at the mirror closely, trying to work out its optical properties. Perhaps some kind of real time adaptive prisms embedded in the glass? No. Too smooth. No seams visible. Unless... perhaps the adjustments were taking place below the nanometer scale? Hmm. That would be way beyond any earthly technology he was aware of, even at the bleeding edge. Maybe Fenrir robotics would have that capability. Their solid state meta-materials science was pretty advanced even back in the early 20s. And who knows where they might have taken that by now? After all, it is not as if he has kept up on the technical journals the last 16 years. It would allow for instantaneous 'descrambling' of the light reflected from his skin however...


As he pulls back, satisfied that whatever trick the mirror is pulling would need more than a mere visual inspection to reveal, he catches a glimpse of movement behind him. Something very fast. Something trying to be stealthy. Something with ill intent. The hair on the back of his neck stands up as he slowly turns to face it. Nothing there.


He glances back to the mirror and behind himself, he sees a figure in gold and black high tech armor bent double holding their right wrist in the their left hand, smoke and sparks pouring out of the armor. The knuckles of the armor were flattened out and crushed, which Aaron recognized as the telltale signs of somebody having punched him in the back of the head. But usually he at least feels it...


Keeping his eyes fixed on the mirror, he waves a hand behind him, to see if the image is really reflecting the room or not. Nothing. Interesting. So the mirror shows him as he is, removing the distortions, but is ALSO capable of editing the scene and adding things that aren't there. Extraordinarily sophisticated display technology. Aaron folds his arms and takes a step back, observing. Somebody has a message for him and has gone to some trouble to deliver it; might as well find out what it is. The image of himself in the mirror has stopped, well, mirroring him, and turns to help the assailant up and into a chair. Impossibly, the mirror scene follows them, like a movie, panning about until the view faces doppelganger Aaron over the armored figure's left shoulder. Carefully peeling off the ruined gold and black gauntlet, ignoring the flares of explosives and shrapnel this triggers, he reveals an unexpectedly feminine hand beneath it. Her knuckles are bleeding, and the wrist is bent at a very awkward angle. He carefully wraps it in gauze and gets down on one knee. He says something to her, but for all the sophistication of the display, the sound is muted. She reaches up to her helmet's faceguard and undoes some kind of electronic safety catch. There is a puff of some kind of vapor, and the helmet opens. She pulls it off one handed and a cascade of long hair falls out, obscuring even the ¼ profile of her face. She tosses the helmet down on the floor and gesticulates angrily at the Aaron image. He says something to her, a grave look on his face. He speaks at length, with clear passion and much gesturing of his own. When he is finished, she buries her face in her hands, shoulders heaving. He hunkers down in front of her, and gently pats her shoulder. She lurches forward and throws her arms around him, shoulders still heaving. Mirror Aaron looks taken aback, but embraces her, in return, ever so tentatively, careful to be gentle. He pats her back again, whispering something in her ear. Aaron is not much of a lip reader, but even he can get this: “There, there. It's all right.”


Amp


Lucas looks in the mirror and cringes. Where have his clothes got to now? Naked is just not a good look for him. No amount of working out or training at the dojo seems to make any difference; he is just a scrawny kid and it seems he will never grow out of it...


Even as the thought occurs to him, rippling red silky cloth flows upward from his toes, covering his body up almost to his scalp. The flow peters out just shy of that though, leaving his rich chestnut brown head of hair exposed. Most of the rest of his head is covered, excepting his eyes and the area from his nose to his chin. The coverage otherwise is total, PG by the strictest definition, but the cloth is skintight and leaves precious little to the imagination. Speaking of which, the cloth seems to have brought an adult physique along with it! He has abs now! And pectoral muscles! Biceps. Quads. The whole package. So to speak.


On his left hip, a long coil of fine steel chain hangs like the revolver of an old west Sheriff. He smiles and strikes a pose, going steely eyed, and gruffly drawls “Ah wouldn't do that if ah were you, punk.” Behind him, a gunslinger pops up from cover, and takes aim at his back. Without even looking, he flicks the chain out over the shoulder and knocks the aim off so the bullet harmlessly ricochets off into the sunset. A second flick and the gunman no longer has his gun. Lucas holsters his chain and casually dumps the bullets out of the gun before tossing the gun back over his shoulder to the chagrined varmint who catches it and slinks away. A scantily dressed dancehall girl flounces up to him from his left and whispers in his ear as she passes, surreptitiously slapping his butt on her way by him. He catches her about the waist and dips her way down, out of sight of the mirror. After he returns her to the upright position, she stumbles off, clearly weak in the knees. He smiles knowingly, and leans in to check the mirror more closely, rubbing several perfect lip imprints off of his cheek, chin and mouth.


As he removes the last traces of lipstick from his face, his smile fades to puzzlement. He steps back and looks down at his chest. A darker red stain is spreading across the crimson cloth that envelops him. A wide, jagged path running from his heart down to just above his right hipbone, is glistening wetly, dark red and sticky. Blood begins to flow freely from the stain, and his eyes roll back in his head. He tumbles over backward and then the mirror is empty again.


qpUmJ5q.jpg



Magus


Lars ignores the mirror itself and traces the legend from right to left. “I show not your face but your heart's desire. Hm. Bit on the nose, but clever. Shows the alert reader they are on the wrong side of the mirror.”


Now he turns his attention to his reflection. His doppelganger winks at him, and he winks back. A slow, exaggerated wink, following it up with a little air kiss for sass. The mirror Lars smiles at this and holds up a military style encrypted thumb drive. He touches his index finger to his lips, and Lars nods, miming locking his mouth with a key and throwing away the key. Mirror Lars arches an eyebrow and slips the thumb drive into his pocket. Lars feels the drive drop snugly into his pocket, but gives no outward sign. His reflection waves and walks away out of the shot. Lars reaches out and touches the mirror, unsurprised to find it ripples like a vertical pool of mercury. A little bit of its silvery residue remains on his fingers and he touches the tip of his tongue to it to confirm. Yep. Mercury. Yummy.


“Not commonly known is the fact that the phrase 'Mad as a hatter' comes from the neurological effects of mercury on the human brain, and the common usage in the 18th century of mercury in curing beaver skins for hats,” he intones, as if dictating for a documentary. “Here I come, Alice.”


He dives headlong into the mirror, splashing mercury all over. When the ripples settle back into place, both the room and the mirror are empty, with no signs of Lars's passage except a few stray puddles of quicksilver on the floor.


Stingray


Manami looks into the mirror and grimaces. She has to crouch to fully see her muscular bulk. She looks savage and angry, and she instinctively pounds the mirror with her fists, slashing at it with her stingers. The image matches her, move for move, and somehow this just makes her more angry than before. She pounds against the mirror until she exhausts herself, howling like an animal. At last, she is spent, gills flaring with the effort to keep up. She winces in pain, holding her head with both hands as the transformation begins. Her bones crackle and her joints pop as her knotted muscles ripple and flex sickly under her scaly skin, shrinking away to almost normal. Respectable muscles, like a gymnast or a dancer. A dancer with scales. And gills. Practically no nose at all. She sighs, gills flaring again, and picks up her school bag and a little bundle of blankets and turns to go to class. Before she can trudge away, her parents come in from either side of the mirror and flank her, beaming proudly. She jumps back, startled, checking behind her and then looks back. Her parents are standing very close to her now, in the mirror, almost touching, and still smiling, even laughing now, full of pure joy. She smiles herself, tentatively, and then starts again when she sees the face looking back at her. She has a little button nose, smooth golden brown skin, silky black hair tumbling to her shoulders, and while her eyes are dark, they are normal eyes, much like her parents' eyes. When she smiles fully, her teeth are normal human teeth, white and straight. Her parents each put an arm around her shoulders, and she can almost feel them there, squeezing her warmly. It feels so good and loving, and it almost makes her weep to know her face doesn't actually look like that. She would weep, if she had tear ducts. In the mirror though, she is still smiling, and it is hard not to smile along. There is something radiant about that smile, something powerful and real, even if the image is counterfeit. The girl in the mirror is bouncing the blanket bundle up and down, as if soothing something inside it. Manami leans in, trying to see what is in there, and the girl obliges her, turning the bundle so she can see. A tiny little round head, with scaly blue skin and huuuge beautiful black eyes is staring back at her, puzzlement and wonder warring for control of his perfect white brow ridges. She sticks out her tongue at him, and he mimics her, revealing row upon row of tiny sharp teeth. Her heart skips a beat, utterly taken with him and struggling to look away. At last she manages to glance up at the girl, and she sees that she is herself again. She has her proper face, and she smiles a pointy toothy grin back out of the mirror as her parents hug her tight while she cradles their grandchild, a picture perfect family.
 
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Gus said:
Be the change you wish to see in the world, so they say. While waiting for posts, I REFUSED to do any housework whatsoever, and instead wrote four distinct responses to the "Mirror of Erised" prompt. That's right. Four. Ante up, y'all or I am going to start on writing one for Blaze and Ooatu.
I want to see posts going into post holes, post haste! Start digging!

Solo


Aaron looks into the mirror, and the first thing he notices is how old he has gotten. That there is a careworn face. Lotta gray hairs in that beard. He juts his chin upward to take a closer look, when the second thing occurs to him. He can see his face. Plain as day. No blur. No distortion. The shock of it stuns him. He glances down at his hands. Still blurred. Holds them up to the mirror. Their reflection is crystal clear. How odd!


He peers at the mirror closely, trying to work out its optical properties. Perhaps some kind of real time adaptive prisms embedded in the glass? No. Too smooth. No seams visible. Unless... perhaps the adjustments were taking place below the nanometer scale? Hmm. That would be way beyond any earthly technology he was aware of, even at the bleeding edge. Maybe Fenrir robotics would have that capability. Their solid state meta-materials science was pretty advanced even back in the early 20s. And who knows where they might have taken that by now? After all, it is not as if he has kept up on the technical journals the last 16 years. It would allow for instantaneous 'descrambling' of the light reflected from his skin however...


As he pulls back, satisfied that whatever trick the mirror is pulling would need more than a mere visual inspection to reveal, he catches a glimpse of movement behind him. Something very fast. Something trying to be stealthy. Something with ill intent. The hair on the back of his neck stands up as he slowly turns to face it. Nothing there.


He glances back to the mirror and behind himself, he sees a figure in gold and black high tech armor bent double holding their right wrist in the their left hand, smoke and sparks pouring out of the armor. The knuckles of the armor were flattened out and crushed, which Aaron recognized as the telltale signs of somebody having punched him in the back of the head. But usually he at least feels it...


Keeping his eyes fixed on the mirror, he waves a hand behind him, to see if the image is really reflecting the room or not. Nothing. Interesting. So the mirror shows him as he is, removing the distortions, but is ALSO capable of editing the scene and adding things that aren't there. Extraordinarily sophisticated display technology. Aaron folds his arms and takes a step back, observing. Somebody has a message for him and has gone to some trouble to deliver it; might as well find out what it is. The image of himself in the mirror has stopped, well, mirroring him, and turns to help the assailant up and into a chair. Impossibly, the mirror scene follows them, like a movie, panning about until the view faces doppelganger Aaron over the armored figure's left shoulder. Carefully peeling off the ruined gold and black gauntlet, ignoring the flares of explosives and shrapnel this triggers, he reveals an unexpectedly feminine hand beneath it. Her knuckles are bleeding, and the wrist is bent at a very awkward angle. He carefully wraps it in gauze and gets down on one knee. He says something to her, but for all the sophistication of the display, the sound is muted. She reaches up to her helmet's faceguard and undoes some kind of electronic safety catch. There is a puff of some kind of vapor, and the helmet opens. She pulls it off one handed and a cascade of long hair falls out, obscuring even the ¼ profile of her face. She tosses the helmet down on the floor and gesticulates angrily at the Aaron image. He says something to her, a grave look on his face. He speaks at length, with clear passion and much gesturing of his own. When he is finished, she buries her face in her hands, shoulders heaving. He hunkers down in front of her, and gently pats her shoulder. She lurches forward and throws her arms around him, shoulders still heaving. Mirror Aaron looks taken aback, but embraces her, in return, ever so tentatively, careful to be gentle. He pats her back again, whispering something in her ear. Aaron is not much of a lip reader, but even he can get this: “There, there. It's all right.”


Amp


Lucas looks in the mirror and cringes. Where have his clothes got to now? Naked is just not a good look for him. No amount of working out or training at the dojo seems to make any difference; he is just a scrawny kid and it seems he will never grow out of it...


Even as the thought occurs to him, rippling red silky cloth flows upward from his toes, covering his body up almost to his scalp. The flow peters out just shy of that though, leaving his rich chestnut brown head of hair exposed. Most of the rest of his head is covered, excepting his eyes and the area from his nose to his chin. The coverage otherwise is total, PG by the strictest definition, but the cloth is skintight and leaves precious little to the imagination. Speaking of which, the cloth seems to have brought an adult physique along with it! He has abs now! And pectoral muscles! Biceps. Quads. The whole package. So to speak.


On his left hip, a long coil of fine steel chain hangs like the revolver of an old west Sheriff. He smiles and strikes a pose, going steely eyed, and gruffly drawls “Ah wouldn't do that if ah were you, punk.” Behind him, a gunslinger pops up from cover, and takes aim at his back. Without even looking, he flicks the chain out over the shoulder and knocks the aim off so the bullet harmlessly ricochets off into the sunset. A second flick and the gunman no longer has his gun. Lucas holsters his chain and casually dumps the bullets out of the gun before tossing the gun back over his shoulder to the chagrined varmint who catches it and slinks away. A scantily dressed dancehall girl flounces up to him from his left and whispers in his ear as she passes, surreptitiously slapping his butt on her way by him. He catches her about the waist and dips her way down, out of sight of the mirror. After he returns her to the upright position, she stumbles off, clearly weak in the knees. He smiles knowingly, and leans in to check the mirror more closely, rubbing several perfect lip imprints off of his cheek, chin and mouth.


As he removes the last traces of lipstick from his face, his smile fades to puzzlement. He steps back and looks down at his chest. A darker red stain is spreading across the crimson cloth that envelops him. A wide, jagged path running from his heart down to just above his right hipbone, is glistening wetly, dark red and sticky. Blood begins to flow freely from the stain, and his eyes roll back in his head. He tumbles over backward and then the mirror is empty again.


qpUmJ5q.jpg



Magus


Lars ignores the mirror itself and traces the legend from right to left. “I show not your face but your heart's desire. Hm. Bit on the nose, but clever. Shows the alert reader they are on the wrong side of the mirror.”


Now he turns his attention to his reflection. His doppelganger winks at him, and he winks back. A slow, exaggerated wink, following it up with a little air kiss for sass. The mirror Lars smiles at this and holds up a military style encrypted thumb drive. He touches his index finger to his lips, and Lars nods, miming locking his mouth with a key and throwing away the key. Mirror Lars arches an eyebrow and slips the thumb drive into his pocket. Lars feels the drive drop snugly into his pocket, but gives no outward sign. His reflection waves and walks away out of the shot. Lars reaches out and touches the mirror, unsurprised to find it ripples like a vertical pool of mercury. A little bit of its silvery residue remains on his fingers and he touches the tip of his tongue to it to confirm. Yep. Mercury. Yummy.


“Not commonly known is the fact that the phrase 'Mad as a hatter' comes from the neurological effects of mercury on the human brain, and the common usage in the 18th century of mercury in curing beaver skins for hats,” he intones, as if dictating for a documentary. “Here I come, Alice.”


He dives headlong into the mirror, splashing mercury all over. When the ripples settle back into place, both the room and the mirror are empty, with no signs of Lars's passage except a few stray puddles of quicksilver on the floor.


Stingray


Manami looks into the mirror and grimaces. She has to crouch to fully see her muscular bulk. She looks savage and angry, and she instinctively pounds the mirror with her fists, slashing at it with her stingers. The image matches her, move for move, and somehow this just makes her more angry than before. She pounds against the mirror until she exhausts herself, howling like an animal. At last, she is spent, gills flaring with the effort to keep up. She winces in pain, holding her head with both hands as the transformation begins. Her bones crackle and her joints pop as her knotted muscles ripple and flex sickly under her scaly skin, shrinking away to almost normal. Respectable muscles, like a gymnast or a dancer. A dancer with scales. And gills. Practically no nose at all. She sighs, gills flaring again, and picks up her school bag and a little bundle of blankets and turns to go to class. Before she can trudge away, her parents come in from either side of the mirror and flank her, beaming proudly. She jumps back, startled, checking behind her and then looks back. Her parents are standing very close to her now, in the mirror, almost touching, and still smiling, even laughing now, full of pure joy. She smiles herself, tentatively, and then starts again when she sees the face looking back at her. She has a little button nose, smooth golden brown skin, silky black hair tumbling to her shoulders, and while her eyes are dark, they are normal eyes, much like her parents' eyes. When she smiles fully, her teeth are normal human teeth, white and straight. Her parents each put an arm around her shoulders, and she can almost feel them there, squeezing her warmly. It feels so good and loving, and it almost makes her weep to know her face doesn't actually look like that. She would weep, if she had tear ducts. In the mirror though, she is still smiling, and it is hard not to smile along. There is something radiant about that smile, something powerful and real, even if the image is counterfeit. The girl in the mirror is bouncing the blanket bundle up and down, as if soothing something inside it. Manami leans in, trying to see what is in there, and the girl obliges her, turning the bundle so she can see. A tiny little round head, with scaly blue skin and huuuge beautiful black eyes is staring back at her, puzzlement and wonder warring for control of his perfect white brow ridges. She sticks out her tongue at him, and he mimics her, revealing row upon row of tiny sharp teeth. Her heart skips a beat, utterly taken with him and struggling to look away. At last she manages to glance up at the girl, and she sees that she is herself again. She has her proper face, and she smiles a pointy toothy grin back out of the mirror as her parents hug her tight while she cradles their grandchild, a picture perfect family.


I'm pretty stuck with main RP threads posts. And I don't fancy the prompt that much. I might be able to do little CSes here and there for character ideas if you wanna.
Click to expand...
 
It's all good man. I like goading people a little is all. Professional hazard I guess.


Edit: Oh, and in case anybody got confused, I decided Lucas's code name should have been Amp instead of Volt all along for boring physics reasons.


They were both french anyway, Voltaire and Ampere, but as people sometimes say, it's not the volts that get you, it's the amps...


(both wrong, actually, it's the joules!)
 
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Oooh is it up? I was just contemplating what Ooatu would see in the mirror of Erised!


EDIT: I AM EXCITED!
 
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Gus said:
Hey, shouldn't writing prompts count for CCPs? :D
Click to expand...
For one second there, when I saw a new notification from you I thought you'd already written the prompt and I was like "Damn! He's fast!"
 
No, I have to mull it over. Lots of ideas, but need some time to let it percolate. Didn't get last weeks done until yesterday, and this week is going to be busy. I will probably only write one for Aaron, even though he could just teleport away, he would choose not to do so.


I do have some ideas for the other three though… :D


Edit: I know, technically Lars and Manami are not really characters yet, and Lucas has been deleted from the characters file, but I feel that for prompts at least, they are all fair game.


(I was especially pleased with what Manami saw in the mirror. I hope she gets approved!)
 
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You know, If we had an S / A ranked Water Manipulator, they could totally bullshit their out the prompt by literally writing a few sentences about them splitting the sea like mother fuckin Moses. They'd basically be like "Nah, ain't doin this shit"
 
[QUOTE="St Indigo]You know, If we had an S / A ranked Water Manipulator, they could totally bullshit their out the prompt by literally writing a few sentences about them splitting the sea like mother fuckin Moses. They'd basically be like "Nah, ain't doin this shit"

[/QUOTE]
Inb4 someone has the ability to walk on water and just casually paces away from the island.
 
Aldur said:
Inb4 someone has the ability to walk on water and just casually paces away from the island.
Click to expand...
If pokémon go is to be believed, I regularly walk on water. Then again, maybe the game isn't officially out yet here, and maybe there is also water (think ditches and canals and such, not really lakes and sea) all around me all the time.
 
So. Not fancy with pictures and recreations and stuff, but settles the question of whether or not Avecca can dodge an elbow strike from a speedster from behind. (Spoiler: not.) I should have a post up by tomorrow morning at the latest with Aaron's reaction to getting harpooned in the face.


@Aldur fyi one million joules is roughly equivalent to a one mile drop through earth's gravitational field. Electricity is not as deadly because some of that energy will spread out and maybe sting other folks in the room, but it is still a big owie. Guessing super speed would allow you to avoid the worst of it though, by minimizing contact time.
 
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