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Everything posted by Flapjack

  1. Zan Minazuki, by nature, follows the path of the Touten. A wild, unkempt brute of a man, he aims to do whatever he pleases in Edo, and anyone that stands in his way risks being cleaved in twain by his zanbato. With Mansu's clan of enforcers being the only ones willing to put up with his eccentricities and bloodlust, he's lending his strength towards advancing the Touten's goals. For the time being, at least. There may have been a more sensible man behind those dull, broken eyes once, but that man has clearly long since passed.
  2. I'm sure we'll make things even worse before all is said and done.
  3. Ian would want nothing to do with the Lesh. Whatever power they could give isn't worth what he saw was done to the Caith by Queklain. The transformation given to those that stayed clearly did a great deal, but what stuck out to him was the death of any ambition or drive in those changed. Self-interest and the incessant want of most sentient life can lead to some awful things, as shown in the Kran city scarred by war, but a chaotic, dangerous world is better than a stagnant, placated one. If knowledge is what the party wants above all else, I believe it would be better to seek the Tuet'ta that has knowledge as their domain over looking to parley with the Lesh. Also, fuck you Remn, you don't have to worry about having a damn ego staple jammed into your brain.
  4. Marching straight through an enemy infested jungle into the heart of darkness for answers? I can imagine how well that'll go.
  5. Three days. That's all that ever mattered. Three days to select, plan, execute. Everything else was ancillary, an aid in sating the curse. There was no point in planning further ahead than three days unless something went terribly wrong, or something awful loomed on the horizon. Similarly, there was no point to looking beyond the immediate past. That just made things worse, tearing open old wounds and casting doubt over the present. Living and seeing the world through such a short timeframe is part of what made living as the Fledgling Crow tenable. Seeing my whole life laid before me all at once, to borrow from the Sigil Cant, was like being a golem's bed; downright crushing. So much death... I've killed more men than most warriors and soldiers would dare to boast about. Seeing it all in such clarity without the manic thrill given by Raze's gift, even with all the justification I had for each, was overwhelming. To say nothing of those slain out of desperation, accident, or apathy; those were like shoots of razorvine in my mind. But it was more than just a review of my mistakes and transgressions; it also filled in a gnawing void, showing the life I had lived and lost before being changed into what I am now. Admittedly, it was a promising start. Doting, eccentric parents; an adventurous father and a scholarly mother; Edgar and Catherine. It wasn't a dull life, given their lines of work, but it was comparatively peaceful and cheerful. I likely would've followed in my mother's footsteps as an arcane scientist, were it not for the sudden weakness. Something was wrong with me, an affliction beyond illness or injury; a weakening of the muscles that got bad enough to make the most basic tasks increasingly more difficult and painful to carry out without aid. Clerics were of little help; they healed injury and disease to restore the body to normal function, but this weakness was a part of that normal function. Magical artifacts crafted to bestow strength were a functional workaround for a time, but eventually even those weren't enough. It was a hollow, wretched existence, much like Lear had said. At some point, my father had just up and vanished; what I saw wasn't clear on if it was by choice or the result of an accident, but it was this that likely drove my mother to desperate measures. Lear Dunham, he who would become the Man of Eyes, preyed upon her desperation and seized control of the facility she oversaw and all that worked there: Minerva Excelsius. Under the guise of a radical process to circumvent my affliction, I would be the prototype for a process to create demonically empowered servants, for Raze's army against the Far Plane if anything Lear says is to be trusted. It was a grueling process, and it was almost too late in coming; the weakness had gotten so bad it had affected my heart and lungs, halting their beat and breath. Priorities shifted from enforcing servitude to bestowing demonic strength and vitality, as being pulled from beyond death over and over had disastrous effects on my mind. It's likely why I lost all those memories in the first place. I would've become his servant, his agent of slaughter and discord, if it weren't for some desperate sabotage. Many symbols of Raze, those damnable eyes that drive men to murderous rage, were activated across the facility. While I can't take credit for the deaths of everyone there, that my first clear memory was of snapping into lucidity above a slew of corpses shows just how well Lear had succeeded in his project. Everything else I already remember quite well. Escaping to Sigil. Striking against the Tramontane with Lynne. The Pink Lily Massacre. Meeting the Acquisitors and scouring the Abattoir. The Sensate Banquet. The Far Plane Incursion at Borealis. I lived on, my life sustained by my bindings to the demon lord Raze, and in turn every life I took helped him rebuild his strength. And now I'm shifting back through time to try and kill him. It's effectively suicide. There's no way out of this, is there? With Raze free from his prison, it's too late. Win or lose, I'm going to die. My "reward" for making it through all this. It's just as well, I suppose. Even if my life didn't depend on his, all the power and abilities I have come from the bond as well. I don't think I could stand losing all that. I certainly wouldn't be able to help with the Far Plane at all. Will the others be able to handle that without me? Hells, was there ever any chance at all of holding them off regardless? ...maybe I'm missing something. Maybe there's a way out of this alive, but I'm just not seeing it. If there is, it's likely out of my hands. Wouldn't be the first time. No, all I need to worry about is making sure these bastards die along with me. They think they know what I am? Consider me a failure? I will show them the inexorable fury of a damned, vengeful man. And this time I won't have a bloody hole in my gut getting in the way.
  6. Let's make it official; count me in on this magical forest adventure.
  7. Wherever I go, I leave a trail of blood in my wake. At first it was merely for survival. Not just because the Outer Planes are a dangerous place, but because the archfiend Rayse demanded tribute. One life every three days, or I would suffer his wrath. Pain beyond pain, along with a glimpse of what the world could've been like. Once, everything was wreathed with twisting flames, all life lost in an angry orange haze. Another time, the walls screamed sweet nothings into my ears as the floor begged me not to listen. I've seen all the beauty and form in this world melt away, shattering on the broken ground until it made a sea of jagged glass to drown in. I've had all the victims and failures of the past drag me under the dark waters beyond reality's veil to tear me to shreds. Perhaps if I were a stronger willed man, I could've resisted, or just let the fiend take my life. Instead, I found purpose. The effects of just a single life taken or saved is as exhilarating as it is terrifying. One dead creditor led to a roof to sleep under and someone that saw potential in my curse. She encouraged me to follow in the footsteps of heroes. Seek out and smite evil. Save the innocent. Just like the legends and tales. It shouldn't have worked even once, confronting what evaded the gaze of the Harmonium. But our strikes were quick, lethal, and completely unexpected. We should've stopped, but the curse was ever present, and Lynne and I aimed higher and higher as greater threats were made manifest in the Hive. It was terribly naive, but the thrill of successful assaults was intoxicating, and nothing had stopped us yet. So hand in hand we fell into it, this making of our own myth. Like a dream. Or a fever. And when the Tramontane struck back, it was like a powder keg went off. No one came out unscathed. By the end, everyone involved was dead, broken, or imprisoned. I don't know what the Harmonium saw in me. Something to be pitied. A useful tool with which to peer into the underworld. Or perhaps a wake up call concerning their role in Sigil society. Either way, their mandate of being a hidden eye into criminal activity set me on my current path. Tearing apart gangs. Uncovering dark plots. Sundering a god. Joining the Acquisitor's Guild. Killing the past. Being thrust into the public eye, falling even more out of depth than I had ever been. I tried to play the part of paragon, either out of guilt or because of old habits. Seeking out the weak and pursued and shielding them from harm, goading their tormentors into trying to stop me. It made for easy fodder for the curse. But the past wasn't done with us yet, and in trying to subvert the plans of our rivals we unleashed chaos upon Sigil, drawing the ire of nearly every other faction. Faced with such a dire situation, we made a deal with the devil and fled the city, leaving our personal projects to the wolves. If that weren't noble and heroic enough, now we might stoop to inciting planewide civil war just to keep our heads above water. I've seen what Rayse wishes to make of all creation. An endless wasteland of blood, ash, and ruin, where people kill and be killed, only to rise again. Conflict for conflict's sake. At this rate he won't need to even lift a finger to see that rat's nest arise. My name is, presumably, Nathan Renardine. The Young Crow. The Dark Saint. The Blazing Blade of the Hive. Child of Discord. I've tried to be a good person, or at least appear as such. Hide the trail of blood and ruin. Mask the past with saintly deeds. So far, it hasn't really stuck. And seeing it all so easily undone is... exhausting and painful. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep doing this.
  8. Here's the chunk of writing Munsa was talking about concerning the fancy abandoned science facility we're to be assaulting in the near future. Spoliers I guess? https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_yblTqVxuzz_j0twKfckh6j29pYko2r8h8BNF_xDWb4/edit?usp=sharing
  9. -1 on faith; while Crow doesn't have anything against the devout(ire is something to be earned, like by marching a near-riot onto grounds declared, promised, and enforced as sanctuary), he himself doesn't hold faith in anything as organized as a religion or faction philosophy.
  10. To elaborate on what Munsa alluded to; while a fair bit of Crow's activities in the passing year would involve things that concern only the immediate group, his plan for using his wealth is a bit more philanthropic than what the rest of the group has done. The plan is to establish a charitable foundation to provide shelter and security for those with no safe place to call home; extending refuge not just towards the homeless, but the pursued and entrapped. Most of this is out of genuine good will; after living in the seedier parts of Sigil for nearly four years, knowing what's it's like to have nowhere to go and no one to turn to for help, knowing how much an act of kindness can transform a person, and knowing that a lot of Sigil is just terrible, awful people(just like everywhere else), he'd like to help out those that lost control of their lives provide some modicum of stability to them. Some of it is out of guilt; he's killed an awful lot of people to keep his own life going, and not all of them did something to deserve the sting of his blade. Some of them were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The success of this venture would go a long ways to assuring himself that yes, in spite of the curse he's overall been a boon to the world rather than a bane. (Sure, there's also preventing the unmaking of the multiverse and then subsequently preventing the breakdown of reality into a hellish rat's nest, but those were singular events, one of which was just maintaining the status quo.) Speaking of the curse, there is a more selfish side to all this. Drawing the pursued and entrapped would, in turn, bring a lot of pursuers and the like to his attention. Sure, different people have different circumstances, but with a big enough draw he could potentially end up with an ever-shifting list of dirtbags trying to do harm to those he's taken under his wing(heh). Why scout the kips and inns of Sigil for someone to sate the curse when you can have a ready list of candidates for disposal at your disposal? Yes, it's crazy, twisted, and audacious, but if you've come to expect anything less then you haven't been paying much attention.
  11. Look at this guy, thinkin' he's the fuckin' keymaster here.
  12. Find the right way down through the maze, to the food, then find the exit. Push the exit button. If the food tastes awful, don't eat it, go back and try another way. They want the same thing that you do, really, they want a path, just like you. You are in a maze in a maze, but which one counts? Your maze, their maze, my maze. Or are the mazes all the same, defined by the limits of their paths? Existence is simple: find the food, push the button, walk the path. But sometimes it gets much harder. Sometimes the food makes you sick, or you can hear nearby feet racing you, urging you on. Sometimes the button only gets you landed right back in the beginning of the maze again, and the food won't satisfy. There is only one path and that is the path that you take, but you can take more than one path. Cross over the cell bars, find a new maze, make the maze from it's path, find the cell bars, cross over the bars, find a maze, make the maze from its path, eat the food, eat the path. Do you see what I see?
  13. Things Crow gets up to after the silencing of the Abattoir: 1. Stopping at the Laughing Madman for a cup of tea and, if he sees her, talking to Ophelia and giving her the gold to get her curse removed (just 90!). No one should have to live with such a violent and ostracizing restraint on personal agency if they can avoid it. 2. Purchasing, or if the demon lord is feeling generous, simply acquiring a dozen assorted, non-experimental flowers from... the demon lord that's selling them. I forget his name. 3. Getting a well deserved rest at an upper-class kip in the Lady's Ward, or at least trying to. 4. The following day, visiting the Mortuary and subsequently one of the prime worlds they use as a graveyard for Sigil to pay respects. 5. Meeting with his case agent and her superior officer, both to fill in the blanks about what the hell just happened and how to proceed going forward. 6. Actually joining the Acquisitor's Guild (his application being more a formality than anything), after what's sure to be a strange discussion with Duncan and an awkward discussion with other members of the party. 7. When enough money from the dreamspheres rolls in, acquiring a Rod of the Pact Keeper +2 (16k gold). Everyone watch the fuck out, he's got another spell slot! In general: Trying to cope with fame and recognition he never sought out or desired in the first place. Also in general: Killing people. Scene to follow after proofreading; I've created a monstrosity. EDIT: oh god it's two and a half pages on google drive 2ND EDIT: Here it is, elucidating on point 5: https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B7ZN1802_dKrOEZ5WFl1OWdGenM
  14. Crow likely hasn't seen an illithid before, outside of maybe passing one on the street or glancing over one while looking over the crowd of a kip. Sigil is Sigil, after all. But he certainly would've read something about them; squid-faced, brain-eating, calculatingly evil members of a hive intelligence? Terrifying. But far worse than all that is that they can read minds. All the stealth, subterfuge, secrecy, and threats in the Cage aren't worth gelt if someone can just scan your mind. ...and yet... He said he knew about the whole group. Could easily just have been information gleaned from a cursory peek into all minds present--but a whole joined intelligence... might he know something more? It was too much of a stretch, certainly. Desperation and naiveté are kept at bay easily enough by fear and common sense. But the question had already been pondered, and there was no hiding that from a mindflayer. Hopefully he found it more amusing than insulting.
  15. Hey now, I didn't even mention Jenny. Crow can disguise self at will; even if Jenny had something like that, it'd probably be a bad idea for many reasons. You make and abuse any advantage you can in the Hive and Lower Wards. Otherwise someone more clever and ruthless will have you boxed or worse.
  16. Ah! Hello cutter, welcome to the Rorty Rooster! What can I do you for? Come to try the taps or call kip for a while? ...something wrong? You look stretched to the rakers. Just gave 'em the laugh? Or maybe you just really piked off a body... ...ah, no, I know that glooming look. You poor sod. Twixt the Lady and the 'loths. Whoever's after you, you'd even pray to the Lady to see 'im Styxed, wouldn't you? It's no accusation, even the best of us sometimes end up having the right spell key on the wrong plane. What if I told you someone could have your problem counting worms in a tick or three, and it'd only cost you gelt? Hah, I knew I'd catch your attention. Well, here's the dark of it. Most urchins 'round the Hive, they're more direct in their methods, nicking unattentive berks of their jink and living off of it for a turn or two. This kid? He's a Scriber, through and through. Don't give me that look, this ain't no slaad-story! I've seen it myself! Some foaming berk was swinging his sword around, likely bubbed out of his brain-box, and this kid draws a spike out of thin air and makes him bite iron! Well appreciated mind you, guy was one of the unhendest bashers that ever stumbled in here, but it was like bearing witness to a blizzard in Baator! So yeah. Vicious little biter. Must be absolutely barmy, killing for a living instead of just bobbing coneys. On the other hand, some other cutters have said they've seen him put the dazzle on someone to put 'em in the dead-book. Now I doubt he's a spellsinger, that's thinking in rules of sevens. I'd say he got himself skinned. There's no limit to what fiends might pull off, other than it can't be anything good. But enough wigwag. You need someone boxed on the cheap, put a word out for 'the Fledgling Crow'. He'll find you before long and put your mind at ease, sure as Sigil.
  17. Look, I realize it's a lot to take in at once, and marathoning a game like that is like a boot to the gut. My only advice is this: You
  18. These so-called Gods of Euchre sit upon a throne of lies. It's one of the classic blunders of history; the most famous of which is "never get involved in a land war with Asia", but only slightly less-known is this: "never play Euchre against a pair from the Great Lakes State"!
  19. Real men swap between clicking and hotkeying on the fly as the situation presents itself. The damage meter in the bottom right agrees with me.
  20. I made a few simple things. This is the MadCast logo shrunk down to 32x32: Since our guild is named Darker Than Black, I also made a icon featuring the iconic mask from the series. Apparently. I wouldn't know, I've never watched it, but GIS has thing pop up non-stop:
  21. Setting Mankind has been through an awful goddamn lot. In the early decades of the 3rd millennium, they made astounding leaps and bounds in all different facets of science and technology. It was a prosperous, yet anxious time. All the breakthroughs in the world couldn't fix the scarcity of resources on Earth. But mankind was prepared to go beyond, to breach the final frontier and start colonizing far-off worlds. As mankind's wont to do in critical situations like this, they fucked up majorly. You know, you have one megalopolis get incinerated because someone was having a really bad day, and then the whole rest of the world goes up in smoke. Damn it. But that's all history by now. Mankind is a stubborn animal that does not go down easily. By this point, the fallout has settled, agriculture has begun again, mankind is retracing its steps back towards the civilization it once had, with old world tech being the most sought after resource. With worldwide communication nearly within its grasp, the Eastern Seaboard of the United States is poised to be the first to enter the second Information Age, and to find what fates befell the other nations of the world. Mankind is once again at a vital breakpoint, and every factor helps decide whether they keep trudging towards the ideals of the past, get sent back into the dark ages, or forge a new path towards prosperity. Naturally, you have to show up and ruin everything. Dammit. Gameplay You are the Seraph. The city of New Claremont is yours to do with as you see fit. With the power of ferrokinesis (mind-driven metal manipulation!), you can lead the city towards the old world ideals some aspire for, drive it back to the rough and rugged, tribalistic ways of the post-calamity era, where raw power above all else was law, you can forge your own path to prosperity for this civilization, or you can just grind everything to dust. Whatever you choose, some people aren't going to like the way you run things. And you're just going to have to put them down. Combat would be done in the style of fast-paced action-adventure games such as Devil May Cry and Bayonetta, with your ferrokinetic powers being the driving force behind most everything you can do. Have you ever thought of all the crazy shit you could do with the power to manipulate metal? Try it--you'll never run out of ideas. Deflect bullets. Gather bullets into a hellish cloud and give your foes some extra ventilation. Use bullets and other nearby metals to craft any weapon of your liking to hack your adversaries to bits. Fire chunks of metal at people mag-rail style just to see if you can muster enough force to vaporize them on contact. Shield yourself from some mean hombre with a laser rifle with the altered hubcap from a car whose driver tried his best to get the fuck out of dodge. Hover and dash around on a levitating manhole cover to dodge the attacks of some poor sod that overdosed on biochems and turned into a massive, horrid mound of rapidly mutating flesh that H.P. Lovecraft would be proud of. Bring a whole building crashing down on someone you think really deserves it. Coat someone in metal and compress them to the size of a beachball. I think you've got the idea by now. Factions and Morality Morality really can't be done in a completely satisfying way in games. But, by god, I'm going to try. You'll have your Good and your Evil or whatever stand-in words there'll be for them. But you'll also have Constructive and Destructive, another morality axis. I know what you might be thinking. What kind of actions would be Good and Destructive? Evil and Constructive? Consider the following faction, one of many you'd be able to support or squash out. A medical science firm, led and staffed by people who would go to any length to better the overall health of humanity. Any length. Just as some of the more vicious psychological experiments of the 20th century were gross violations of human rights conducted for furthering the understanding of how the mind works, this science firm is not beyond experimenting on the less fortunate in awful ways if it could lead to a potential breakthrough. Working for them would be a constructive, but evil act; helping civilization at the cost of tormenting and torturing the unlucky ones who get swept up into becoming test subjects. Opposing them is a good, but destructive act; the progress of biotech would come to a standstill, but any progress made by using the backs of others as your stepladder isn't worth it, right? The ending would be based partly on where you lie on these two morality axes at the end of the game. Unless you decide to be a real bastard and grind the city into a lifeless ruin. Then you get the non-ending of wandering aimlessly amongst the debris, without any other soul to interact with. You horrible nihilist. Tick tock. There is a greater overarching plot behind the character you control and where he came from, and it all comes to a head in the end. For one reason or another, you aren't from Earth. There are other people not from Earth that really don't like you. They want you dead and they don't give any kind of shit about collateral damage. The final confrontation comes when they finally find you. You and whatever allies you've made during the course of the game have to fend them off before they kill everyone. Some paths through the game would make it harder than others, but generally any path through should make success possible. This wouldn't be out of nowhere either, a few missions would look into the past of the player character and what he/she did to draw the ire of this unsavory bunch. Yeah, he/she. You can decide what your avatar looks like. In a game like this, character customization is basically a given. It's rough, and all this isn't everything I have on this idea, but I want to see this game, god dammit. Or, even better, help make it.
  22. Flapjack


    No, I look more like
  23. Flapjack


    Hi there! I'm Flapjack! You may remember me from such League of Legends tournaments as the second one: You Vlad, Bro? And the third one: The Disheartening Lack of Commitment. After my brother, Madcast: Munsa became part of your community and after playing several games of LoL with members of MadCast, I feel that my application for full membership has been long overdue. Apart of League of Legends, there are very little games I play competitively. I play Starcraft II and Warcraft III, but only for the custom maps. I play and actively raid in World of Warcraft, and I also play Dungeon Fighter Online, which is basically Streets of Rage: the MMO. My username for online games is almost always some variation of "The Flapjack of Fury", save for LoL, where it's flapjackmonty. As for personal information, I'm 22, stuck in Michigan, and I'm on the cusp of starting my last semester of college, finishing my degree in Video Game Design. I look forward to playing the one game that I can with you guys until I get a better computer, and at the very least I hope I can now properly lord my recent tournament victory over my brother.