The game system is Mutants & Masterminds a d20 superhero game written of the OGL license. It's exactly what I'm looking for in a supers game. So now I'm looking at putting together the beginnings of an IRC campaign to have fun in a new supers world. I'm planning on two to four extended IRC sessions over the course of about six months, probably not actually starting until January, 2004.
Anyone interested can apply here, but I play favorites and will give preference to my friends. I'm only taking four characters, and one of them is my brother, so I have (at most) three open slots.
The only drawback is that M&M carries a price tag of US$33, but that's for a complete stand-alone hardback RPG core book. There is nothing else needed, and nothing else I will be buying or using. Personally, I bought mine through Amazon's New and Used Section and picked it up for about $21.
My own game will likely be a team of classic golden age heroes from the fifties and sixties--heroes of the cold war who fight commies and defend freedom--who have been in suspended animation for 35 years. They wake up in 2004 to discover that they missed Armageddon while they were sleeping. Hideous mutants roam the wastelands of America, and the institutions of the world have crumbled into choas and anarchy.
And in the meantime, before I put the game together, I'll be doing some world-building here, and as usual, help is always appreciated. Nobody can poke holes in a perfectly good world like Bulldrekkers.
[M&M] Legacy of Justice (IRC campaign)
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
[M&M] Legacy of Justice (IRC campaign)
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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Cazmonster
- No-Life Loser
- Posts: 11964
- Joined: Tue Mar 12, 2002 7:28 am
- Contact:
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
In the interest of full disclosure, this is all my brother's idea.
He's not a GM, and he's not a designer, but he's a damn good player and a hell of an idea man. It is Kyle's proposition that the best ideas in the world come when you have two really good ideas rolling around in your head that you don't know what to do with, and suddenly you realize they go together. Thus, he called me out of the blue one night about a year ago and said, "I've got it! I have your next game." He actually said those words. After much coaxing, he finally said: Post-Apocalyptic Superheroes.
Oooooooo!
Thus was born: The Legacy of Justice. (Pronunciation Key: "Legacy of Justice," when spoken aloud, is always said as a grand pronouncement in your deepest, most resonant superhero voice, as if dramatic music and fanfare are expected at the mere utterance of the name. I have never spoken it aloud without that exact inflection, which is really fun when you have a long conversation about it and keep dropping the name into the middle of sentences.)
History Summary: The Shattered Earth was a world much like our own, until the turn of the last century, when, like so many other worlds, it encountered Flux. The entry of Flux into the world was accompanied by the development of superpowered beings and strange new magicks and technologies. But history proceeded apace, mostly in parallel to ours. After Major Justice helped boost the Allies to victory in WWII, he founded the American Union of Justice to defend the nation from all foes. America entered a golden age of prosperity and innovation and peace (although a nervous peace as we faced off with the Soviets) that lasted for 25 years. Then in 1969, the office of President Kennedy (the second one) was commandeered by Major Justice's arch-nemesis Doctor Apocalypse, who set up his newest Doomsday device right there in the oval office and threatened to unleash all the horrors of hell upon the earth if his demands were not met.
The Major himself was first on the scene to battle the evil doctor. Doctor Apocalypse had set a trap for the rest of the Justice Union, and they were sealed in their own Hall of Freedom, helpless to assist their mighty leader.
It was a valiant battle, but in the end, Major Justice failed the American people... the world... for the first and last time. Most of Washington DC was destroyed in the ensuing blast, and the Major and the Doctor were killed instantly. With the dimensional doorway now opened by Apocalypse's device, free Flux storms raged across the entire planet with unpredictable, but always devastating, results. The storms lasted for almost seven years, and much of the world was laid to waste. People have have since had almost three decades to rebuild, and the process is barely begun. Flux-spawned mutants roam the wastelands. Low-grade superpowers have become more common among the populous. And the true supers have become the protectors and tyrants of the new communities that have found a foothold on this flux-shattered earth.
Open our story: Something happens to release the temporal stasis trap Apocalypse had placed on the Hall of Freedom (now buried some ways beneath the surface). The surviving members of the American Union of Justice emerge from the ground to find their worst nightmare has come true.
Note: it'd be nice to have the whole post-apocalyptic thing be a surprise, but that would really be unfair to players who maybe had their hearts set of a fun 4-color romp. Also, the player characters don't have to be Union members, or even heroes of the past, but I thought that idea would play well for a first game and really help set the tone of the world.
He's not a GM, and he's not a designer, but he's a damn good player and a hell of an idea man. It is Kyle's proposition that the best ideas in the world come when you have two really good ideas rolling around in your head that you don't know what to do with, and suddenly you realize they go together. Thus, he called me out of the blue one night about a year ago and said, "I've got it! I have your next game." He actually said those words. After much coaxing, he finally said: Post-Apocalyptic Superheroes.
Oooooooo!
Thus was born: The Legacy of Justice. (Pronunciation Key: "Legacy of Justice," when spoken aloud, is always said as a grand pronouncement in your deepest, most resonant superhero voice, as if dramatic music and fanfare are expected at the mere utterance of the name. I have never spoken it aloud without that exact inflection, which is really fun when you have a long conversation about it and keep dropping the name into the middle of sentences.)
History Summary: The Shattered Earth was a world much like our own, until the turn of the last century, when, like so many other worlds, it encountered Flux. The entry of Flux into the world was accompanied by the development of superpowered beings and strange new magicks and technologies. But history proceeded apace, mostly in parallel to ours. After Major Justice helped boost the Allies to victory in WWII, he founded the American Union of Justice to defend the nation from all foes. America entered a golden age of prosperity and innovation and peace (although a nervous peace as we faced off with the Soviets) that lasted for 25 years. Then in 1969, the office of President Kennedy (the second one) was commandeered by Major Justice's arch-nemesis Doctor Apocalypse, who set up his newest Doomsday device right there in the oval office and threatened to unleash all the horrors of hell upon the earth if his demands were not met.
The Major himself was first on the scene to battle the evil doctor. Doctor Apocalypse had set a trap for the rest of the Justice Union, and they were sealed in their own Hall of Freedom, helpless to assist their mighty leader.
It was a valiant battle, but in the end, Major Justice failed the American people... the world... for the first and last time. Most of Washington DC was destroyed in the ensuing blast, and the Major and the Doctor were killed instantly. With the dimensional doorway now opened by Apocalypse's device, free Flux storms raged across the entire planet with unpredictable, but always devastating, results. The storms lasted for almost seven years, and much of the world was laid to waste. People have have since had almost three decades to rebuild, and the process is barely begun. Flux-spawned mutants roam the wastelands. Low-grade superpowers have become more common among the populous. And the true supers have become the protectors and tyrants of the new communities that have found a foothold on this flux-shattered earth.
Open our story: Something happens to release the temporal stasis trap Apocalypse had placed on the Hall of Freedom (now buried some ways beneath the surface). The surviving members of the American Union of Justice emerge from the ground to find their worst nightmare has come true.
Note: it'd be nice to have the whole post-apocalyptic thing be a surprise, but that would really be unfair to players who maybe had their hearts set of a fun 4-color romp. Also, the player characters don't have to be Union members, or even heroes of the past, but I thought that idea would play well for a first game and really help set the tone of the world.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
Had you only posted once, I would have said "no" immediately without a second thought. But now I'm going to have to actually put you into consideration, just because the double post is so pathetic. I'm picturing the big sad ScamperPuppy eyes.
We'll see. My wife is still deciding if she wants in or not, so I may have just eaten up another slot.
We'll see. My wife is still deciding if she wants in or not, so I may have just eaten up another slot.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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Threadbare
- Bulldrek Junkie
- Posts: 499
- Joined: Sun Mar 31, 2002 8:22 pm
- Location: yuma, princeton, budapest
Hey, I'll be cool with tossing in ideas for you guys and seeing what comes out. Nothing wrong with kickin' a little garlic in the soup. Hey, I'd like to see a pissed-off commissioner Gordon type. You know, like the good ol' chief of police from before the flux is now either warped with powers, paranoid about supers, or just walks around with a shotgun and a duster, muttering something about there being "a new sheriff in town."
_
If I wasn't so busy commanding more than one ship without holding flag rank, I would come down there to New London Towne and show a few people a thing or two about OFFICERship."
--The Commodore
Keep the Funk Alive.
If I wasn't so busy commanding more than one ship without holding flag rank, I would come down there to New London Towne and show a few people a thing or two about OFFICERship."
--The Commodore
Keep the Funk Alive.
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
Just so you'll know, Bobbin, I've gone and created The Commish, and he's a total bad-ass. Thanks. He's like 90-something now, and being kept alive by this mystical suit of power armor he "borrowed" from the evidence room after the catastrophe. Now the Commisioner is fanatical about maintaining law and order in NYC, trying to enforce the old pre-disaster codes. He's got the Minions feat from M&M, so he also has an elite cadre of some 150 "cops" who enforce his fanatical vision.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
Ack. You know what would work best for the introduction? Having it presented in actual comic book format. Unfortunately, I cannot afford the talent I would need for such an endeavor. Anyway--here's Part I of the Intro:
The Legacy of Justice
I am the Seer. It is my… job, if you will, to observe your Earths—to chronicle your histories and to preserve their details and glories for future ages. In eons past, my people found remnants of whole civilizations come and gone in mere heartbeats of the age of the multiverse. Entire cultures flowering and vanishing without record. Thus, we set forth the Seers to ensure such people would no longer be forgotten to the ravages of time.
And so I watch. I watch a near infinity of Earths and see the unfoldings of every possible action, rejoicing in those that take full flower, creating separate Earthlines and new sets of possibility. Some are magnificent, and some are tragic, and all are valuable. But none is so unique and none holds my fascination so much as the lone Flux-Shattered Earth.
The Shattered Earth was a world much like your own, but that centuries ago, Flux slowly seeped in through the crevices of their reality. As is always the case, the presence of Flux was allowed occasional amazing occurrences, rare extraordinary supernormal beings and strange magicks and technologies. But the Flux was weak, and their history still proceeded in parallel to your own—differing in minor details, but not in substance until the turn of the last century by your modern reckoning of years. The Flux was amplified, and great superbeings arose, slowly but surely nudging their history away from yours. But it wasn’t until after World War II that… well, perhaps it is best if I let one of their own tell the story. See through my eyes, and watch:
* * *
It is late, and the sky has long since grown dark. The Codicer does not speak yet. Instead, he merely stands before the fire, his incredibly long frame standing a full two heads taller than any of the nearby revelers. His cup is held before him in both hands, downturned to nourish the memories of those gone before. Gathered across the mirror-like flux-polished ground where the New Jersey statehouse once stood, the revelers slowly take notice of this tall still man in their midst. It is the last night of the Feast of Justice, and everyone knows what comes next. One by one people find their own cups and pull together stools and boxes and other makeshift seating, others merely sitting on the glassy ground around the fire when seats become scarce. Firelight makes every face hauntingly unfamiliar as a whispered hush finds its way through the crowd.
“Are there any here” the Codicer asks into the silence, “who do not know how this world was created?”
With smiles, most of the assembled crowd raises a hand. They are lying; every child knows the story of Major Justice from the moment they can speak. But this is an old game, and everyone is eager to play their part—especially with so renowned a teller as the Codicer himself.
“Shall I tell you then of the Legacy of Justice, and how the Hand of Apocalypse brought ruin to the earth?”
The murmurs of encouragement are immediate, with even a few cheers mixed in, but of course, it’s not quite enough. The Codicer rights his cup, “But I am weary, and such a story requires refreshment.” And with good-natured laughter, his cup is soon filled and even a few coins are thrown at his feet.
The Codicer pulls himself up to his full height—nearly eight feet. He unclasps his cloak and allows it to form a bilious black puddle around his feet. He takes a long pull at his drink—a rough whisky backed by some sort of cola flavor—and with one hand on his worn leather satchel of props, he runs his steady gaze across the eyes of his audience and begins:
“Major Justice! He was more than merely human—he was a hero. The mightiest of the super heroes of this earth, he was the defender of America and the protector of the peoples of the world.” As the Codicer speaks, a poster sized rendering of Major Justice, a well-preserved relic of a world lost, raises slowly on a pole behind him until the Major’s feet are directly behind the Codicer’s head. The mechanism for raising the poster is not visible, only increasing the wonder of the listeners. Appreciative noises rise softly from the crowd. In the poster, Major Justice is in one of his classic poses; he is flying with his arms out to his sides and angled back along his muscular flanks, blue-gloved fists clenched, steely jaw set with determination below the blue hooded mask, and the silver star on his thick muscled chest thrust forward at the audience.
“Stronger than a thousand men and faster than a fighter jet. Major Justice could catch missiles in mid air and hold entire battalions of men at bay. He vigilantly protected this nation that he loved so well. He led the Allies to victory in World War II, and established his American Union of Justice help him defend the nation against Communism and other threats to freedom for more than two decades. Ageless and unwavering, Major Justice was the scourge of evildoers and the guardian of liberty for forty-eight years, never failing in his endless duties. Never failing but for once.”
The Codicer takes another drink, and as he does so, a small figure seems to rise from his bag of props of its own accord. It is a doll—an action figure—a sinister thing almost a foot tall and clad in crimson armor and a long black cloak. A surprised and worried murmur rises, and several children squeal in mock-terror. Or at least… almost mock-terror. All of them recognize this bogeyman, and one of them finally squeaks out a name for it: “Doctor Apocalypse!”
That is the cue the Codicer has been waiting for. He sets his cup quickly aside and grins a wickedly hungry grin in the direction of the child who spoke. He is half-crouched now and leans well forward towards his audience, letting the firelight play madly across his features, his absurdly long limbs jutting away at dangerous angles. He pauses and savors the tension—they are all hooked, every one of them. “That’s right, child,” he hisses, scooping up the crimson doll in both hands from the top of his bag and proffering it boldly to the crowd for all to view, “Doctor Apocalypse!” The crowd gasps appropriately.
“The epitome of evil, with armor the color of blood, Doctor Apocalypse had but one goal: total world domination. He imagined all the nations of the world bowing before a crimson throne of his own making, and all the people on earth enslaved to his evil will. But one by one, his schemes were foiled by the vigilance and awesome might of Major Justice and his American Union of Justice.” He lets the Apocalypse doll tumbles from his grasp, and it clatters to the ground at his feet. Another poster rises behind the Codicer to cover Major Justice’s square jawed visage. This new image is hand-drawn and not as realistic as the first, but the colors are bold and dramatic and the uniforms recognizable: Major Justice standing front and center, flanked by the other members of his Union—Nighthawk, Silver Sorceress, Gantron, the White Mouse, Apollo, and Avenger. All of these names are familiar to every listener, and a small cheer almost goes up, but is quickly stifled when no one echoes it.
The Codicer holds his position for several long moments. Not even his eyes move as the spectators wait breathless for his words. Now his voice comes down to a more conventional narrative, only a few notches above a whisper at first. But it slowly rises in volume and drama as the story continues.
“It was a day like any other, when the Justice Signal sounded. Always first among heroes, Major Justice rushed to answer the call. In a government office high above Washington DC, the Dispatcher gave the Major the grave news: ‘Major Justice,’ he said, ‘the Doctor has returned.’ Nothing more needed to be said.” The Codicer’s voice changes to the clipped deep-chested tones of the Major himself, “‘Doctor Apocalypse—I knew it.’ The Major wasted no time, ‘Where is the villain hiding?’ And the truth was more horrible than he could have guessed—Doctor Apocalypse had commandeered the office of no less than the president of the United States himself. President Kennedy, having only recently assumed the reins of power from his brother, was now a hostage in his own Oval Office, while the evil Doctor set up his newest doomsday device in an effort to ransom the nation’s capitol and gain the power and resources he so desperately desired.”
The Legacy of Justice
I am the Seer. It is my… job, if you will, to observe your Earths—to chronicle your histories and to preserve their details and glories for future ages. In eons past, my people found remnants of whole civilizations come and gone in mere heartbeats of the age of the multiverse. Entire cultures flowering and vanishing without record. Thus, we set forth the Seers to ensure such people would no longer be forgotten to the ravages of time.
And so I watch. I watch a near infinity of Earths and see the unfoldings of every possible action, rejoicing in those that take full flower, creating separate Earthlines and new sets of possibility. Some are magnificent, and some are tragic, and all are valuable. But none is so unique and none holds my fascination so much as the lone Flux-Shattered Earth.
The Shattered Earth was a world much like your own, but that centuries ago, Flux slowly seeped in through the crevices of their reality. As is always the case, the presence of Flux was allowed occasional amazing occurrences, rare extraordinary supernormal beings and strange magicks and technologies. But the Flux was weak, and their history still proceeded in parallel to your own—differing in minor details, but not in substance until the turn of the last century by your modern reckoning of years. The Flux was amplified, and great superbeings arose, slowly but surely nudging their history away from yours. But it wasn’t until after World War II that… well, perhaps it is best if I let one of their own tell the story. See through my eyes, and watch:
* * *
It is late, and the sky has long since grown dark. The Codicer does not speak yet. Instead, he merely stands before the fire, his incredibly long frame standing a full two heads taller than any of the nearby revelers. His cup is held before him in both hands, downturned to nourish the memories of those gone before. Gathered across the mirror-like flux-polished ground where the New Jersey statehouse once stood, the revelers slowly take notice of this tall still man in their midst. It is the last night of the Feast of Justice, and everyone knows what comes next. One by one people find their own cups and pull together stools and boxes and other makeshift seating, others merely sitting on the glassy ground around the fire when seats become scarce. Firelight makes every face hauntingly unfamiliar as a whispered hush finds its way through the crowd.
“Are there any here” the Codicer asks into the silence, “who do not know how this world was created?”
With smiles, most of the assembled crowd raises a hand. They are lying; every child knows the story of Major Justice from the moment they can speak. But this is an old game, and everyone is eager to play their part—especially with so renowned a teller as the Codicer himself.
“Shall I tell you then of the Legacy of Justice, and how the Hand of Apocalypse brought ruin to the earth?”
The murmurs of encouragement are immediate, with even a few cheers mixed in, but of course, it’s not quite enough. The Codicer rights his cup, “But I am weary, and such a story requires refreshment.” And with good-natured laughter, his cup is soon filled and even a few coins are thrown at his feet.
The Codicer pulls himself up to his full height—nearly eight feet. He unclasps his cloak and allows it to form a bilious black puddle around his feet. He takes a long pull at his drink—a rough whisky backed by some sort of cola flavor—and with one hand on his worn leather satchel of props, he runs his steady gaze across the eyes of his audience and begins:
“Major Justice! He was more than merely human—he was a hero. The mightiest of the super heroes of this earth, he was the defender of America and the protector of the peoples of the world.” As the Codicer speaks, a poster sized rendering of Major Justice, a well-preserved relic of a world lost, raises slowly on a pole behind him until the Major’s feet are directly behind the Codicer’s head. The mechanism for raising the poster is not visible, only increasing the wonder of the listeners. Appreciative noises rise softly from the crowd. In the poster, Major Justice is in one of his classic poses; he is flying with his arms out to his sides and angled back along his muscular flanks, blue-gloved fists clenched, steely jaw set with determination below the blue hooded mask, and the silver star on his thick muscled chest thrust forward at the audience.
“Stronger than a thousand men and faster than a fighter jet. Major Justice could catch missiles in mid air and hold entire battalions of men at bay. He vigilantly protected this nation that he loved so well. He led the Allies to victory in World War II, and established his American Union of Justice help him defend the nation against Communism and other threats to freedom for more than two decades. Ageless and unwavering, Major Justice was the scourge of evildoers and the guardian of liberty for forty-eight years, never failing in his endless duties. Never failing but for once.”
The Codicer takes another drink, and as he does so, a small figure seems to rise from his bag of props of its own accord. It is a doll—an action figure—a sinister thing almost a foot tall and clad in crimson armor and a long black cloak. A surprised and worried murmur rises, and several children squeal in mock-terror. Or at least… almost mock-terror. All of them recognize this bogeyman, and one of them finally squeaks out a name for it: “Doctor Apocalypse!”
That is the cue the Codicer has been waiting for. He sets his cup quickly aside and grins a wickedly hungry grin in the direction of the child who spoke. He is half-crouched now and leans well forward towards his audience, letting the firelight play madly across his features, his absurdly long limbs jutting away at dangerous angles. He pauses and savors the tension—they are all hooked, every one of them. “That’s right, child,” he hisses, scooping up the crimson doll in both hands from the top of his bag and proffering it boldly to the crowd for all to view, “Doctor Apocalypse!” The crowd gasps appropriately.
“The epitome of evil, with armor the color of blood, Doctor Apocalypse had but one goal: total world domination. He imagined all the nations of the world bowing before a crimson throne of his own making, and all the people on earth enslaved to his evil will. But one by one, his schemes were foiled by the vigilance and awesome might of Major Justice and his American Union of Justice.” He lets the Apocalypse doll tumbles from his grasp, and it clatters to the ground at his feet. Another poster rises behind the Codicer to cover Major Justice’s square jawed visage. This new image is hand-drawn and not as realistic as the first, but the colors are bold and dramatic and the uniforms recognizable: Major Justice standing front and center, flanked by the other members of his Union—Nighthawk, Silver Sorceress, Gantron, the White Mouse, Apollo, and Avenger. All of these names are familiar to every listener, and a small cheer almost goes up, but is quickly stifled when no one echoes it.
The Codicer holds his position for several long moments. Not even his eyes move as the spectators wait breathless for his words. Now his voice comes down to a more conventional narrative, only a few notches above a whisper at first. But it slowly rises in volume and drama as the story continues.
“It was a day like any other, when the Justice Signal sounded. Always first among heroes, Major Justice rushed to answer the call. In a government office high above Washington DC, the Dispatcher gave the Major the grave news: ‘Major Justice,’ he said, ‘the Doctor has returned.’ Nothing more needed to be said.” The Codicer’s voice changes to the clipped deep-chested tones of the Major himself, “‘Doctor Apocalypse—I knew it.’ The Major wasted no time, ‘Where is the villain hiding?’ And the truth was more horrible than he could have guessed—Doctor Apocalypse had commandeered the office of no less than the president of the United States himself. President Kennedy, having only recently assumed the reins of power from his brother, was now a hostage in his own Oval Office, while the evil Doctor set up his newest doomsday device in an effort to ransom the nation’s capitol and gain the power and resources he so desperately desired.”
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
-
Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
Okay--writer's block. The rest of the intro isn't coming. Instead, I'm moving on to world building.
I want the Shattered Earth to be land of scattered and isolated communities, separated by wastelands of Mad Max style barren terrain. The communities will be wild and varied. Thanks to the amazing abilities of some of the super-residents, the communities are all very different. Some have restored water and power to a degree and seem almost normal... almost. Some are tyrannical places ruled by super-despots. Some are towns where the low-grade superbeings are enslaved and put into service of the rest of the town. Whole villages of flux mutants. Etc.
On the scale of -10 = grim & gritty in the original Dark Knight style and 10 = 4-color simplicity ala TV's Superfriends, I'm putting Legacy of Justice at around a 5. It's still mostly a world of good vs. evil, where the black hats are easy to spot, but it also is post-apocalyptic to a degree that often highlights the ludicrous nature of such a black & white world. For the most part, super-people fall into four categories: Good Guys, Bad Guys, the Misguided, and the Insane.
Most Good Guys, while they may have superficial differences, still mostly see eye to eye, and while there are often initial misunderstandings, Good Guys typically all get on the same page by the end of an issue to work together against whatever obstacles stand in their way.
Bad Guys are just that. They are selfish and evil and will often work to hurt the Good Guys simply for the sake of doing so.
The Misguided tend to be Good Guys who have gone a little wrong. If handled correctly, the Misguided will often have a great epiphany by the end of an issue, see the error of their ways and come around to being a Good Guy.
The Insane are hopeless. They may originally have been Good or Bad, but now, they are twisted by circumstance, and generally have some single minded purpose or philosophy that they will pursue with all their abilities to the exclusion of all else--including their own well-being.
I'm going to be using a real map of the eastern US as a base for this world. Trenton, NJ will be my "base city." A relatively normal place with some measure of security. A few thousand gathered people protected by a team of supers. Trenton is convenient, because it is within a hundred miles of most major cities of interest: Philly, NYC, DC, Boston, others. The remnants of those cities will all have their own unique character.
I need to start creating:
Established communities to put on the map.
A list of dozens of odd communities that a GM can place wherever is convenient.
A random mutants table.
A random village table.
A list of various wandering encounters (mutants, ronin, merchants, brigands) and random plot hooks.
All of the above come in numerous flavors depending on whether the people are normal, low-grade, super, or mutants.
Anyway, I'm just brainstorming out loud. I'll have more detail later.
I want the Shattered Earth to be land of scattered and isolated communities, separated by wastelands of Mad Max style barren terrain. The communities will be wild and varied. Thanks to the amazing abilities of some of the super-residents, the communities are all very different. Some have restored water and power to a degree and seem almost normal... almost. Some are tyrannical places ruled by super-despots. Some are towns where the low-grade superbeings are enslaved and put into service of the rest of the town. Whole villages of flux mutants. Etc.
On the scale of -10 = grim & gritty in the original Dark Knight style and 10 = 4-color simplicity ala TV's Superfriends, I'm putting Legacy of Justice at around a 5. It's still mostly a world of good vs. evil, where the black hats are easy to spot, but it also is post-apocalyptic to a degree that often highlights the ludicrous nature of such a black & white world. For the most part, super-people fall into four categories: Good Guys, Bad Guys, the Misguided, and the Insane.
Most Good Guys, while they may have superficial differences, still mostly see eye to eye, and while there are often initial misunderstandings, Good Guys typically all get on the same page by the end of an issue to work together against whatever obstacles stand in their way.
Bad Guys are just that. They are selfish and evil and will often work to hurt the Good Guys simply for the sake of doing so.
The Misguided tend to be Good Guys who have gone a little wrong. If handled correctly, the Misguided will often have a great epiphany by the end of an issue, see the error of their ways and come around to being a Good Guy.
The Insane are hopeless. They may originally have been Good or Bad, but now, they are twisted by circumstance, and generally have some single minded purpose or philosophy that they will pursue with all their abilities to the exclusion of all else--including their own well-being.
I'm going to be using a real map of the eastern US as a base for this world. Trenton, NJ will be my "base city." A relatively normal place with some measure of security. A few thousand gathered people protected by a team of supers. Trenton is convenient, because it is within a hundred miles of most major cities of interest: Philly, NYC, DC, Boston, others. The remnants of those cities will all have their own unique character.
I need to start creating:
Established communities to put on the map.
A list of dozens of odd communities that a GM can place wherever is convenient.
A random mutants table.
A random village table.
A list of various wandering encounters (mutants, ronin, merchants, brigands) and random plot hooks.
All of the above come in numerous flavors depending on whether the people are normal, low-grade, super, or mutants.
Anyway, I'm just brainstorming out loud. I'll have more detail later.
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Bethyaga
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And for anyone who gets in and gets the book, starting Power Level is 10 for creating characters. When I talk about "Low Grade" supers, it means anyone in the world with true super powers but a total power level of 2 to about 5 or 6. Most true "supers" are PL 8 and up.
In M&M, Power Level is directly equivalent to Character Level in D&D.
Caz and DV8 are in so far, and I'm waiting on a couple other queries.
In M&M, Power Level is directly equivalent to Character Level in D&D.
Caz and DV8 are in so far, and I'm waiting on a couple other queries.
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Cazmonster
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Most Excellent, and I get to recycle a hero I've wanted to use forever (I got him thrown together for Chemslaves of Doctor Bogg the Golden Age meets zombies All Flesh). The really keen thing is his devices may have been flux based...
Cazmonster goes off to purchase books!
Cazmonster goes off to purchase books!
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Serious Paul
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I would love to help with the world building! As for some towns that could be put anywhere, well hows this for a format:
Grandville!
Population: 12,500
Description: Grandville is a small city that is rebuilding after the disaster. Strict ordinaces and a small police force keep its citizens safe from the every day humdrum of life. Mayor William Patrick, now in his record sixth six year term!, is working hard with his citizens to make Grandville a nice place to live.
Grandville has an excellent power grid, and in the last two years has managed to get running water back to nearly ninety percent of the community. Grandville's major industry is metal, with two forges online, a machine shop, and skilled metal workers. Grandville also does a teeming business in cold goods with their ability to refrigerate.
Grandville requires all mutants and super powered beings (SPB's) to register with the town Sheriff.
Grandville has one hospital, and two clinics, all are staffed full time. Grandville has five elementary schools, one middle school, and one high school. There also three private schools.
Game Master Notes: Grandville is a relatively even keeled town, that tries especially hard to recognize the rights of others, but not at the jeopardy of their safety. there is asubtle bias against mutants and SPB's, hence the requirement all SPB's register.
The Sheriff of Grandville is a SPB whose powers are super strength and super "invulnerabilty". He attempts to recruit worthwhile SPB's and mutants into his "posse", but will run any violent or insane SPB's out of town.
Generally the whole town has an early sixties feel to it. there is an ice cream jerk, a drive in theater (That only plays billionth run PG movies and stuff.)
How was that?
Grandville!
Population: 12,500
Description: Grandville is a small city that is rebuilding after the disaster. Strict ordinaces and a small police force keep its citizens safe from the every day humdrum of life. Mayor William Patrick, now in his record sixth six year term!, is working hard with his citizens to make Grandville a nice place to live.
Grandville has an excellent power grid, and in the last two years has managed to get running water back to nearly ninety percent of the community. Grandville's major industry is metal, with two forges online, a machine shop, and skilled metal workers. Grandville also does a teeming business in cold goods with their ability to refrigerate.
Grandville requires all mutants and super powered beings (SPB's) to register with the town Sheriff.
Grandville has one hospital, and two clinics, all are staffed full time. Grandville has five elementary schools, one middle school, and one high school. There also three private schools.
Game Master Notes: Grandville is a relatively even keeled town, that tries especially hard to recognize the rights of others, but not at the jeopardy of their safety. there is asubtle bias against mutants and SPB's, hence the requirement all SPB's register.
The Sheriff of Grandville is a SPB whose powers are super strength and super "invulnerabilty". He attempts to recruit worthwhile SPB's and mutants into his "posse", but will run any violent or insane SPB's out of town.
Generally the whole town has an early sixties feel to it. there is an ice cream jerk, a drive in theater (That only plays billionth run PG movies and stuff.)
How was that?
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Bethyaga
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Legacy of Justice is intentionally being put together in a rather scattershot fashion, so that nearly any idea, no matter how mundane or bizaree, will find a niche to fit into, and GM's can customize the landscape as needed. Almost anything suggested will probably be used in one fashion or another.
Which leads me to the next point:
If it's not obvious, Legacy of Justice is my baby, and by posting any suggestions here, you are giving your permission for me to use them as I see fit--up to and including my reprinting your material in other free venues or even for-profit publication without further compensation should LoJ ever develop that far.
However, should LoJ ever make it that far, I will always be careful to try to give due credit. No other promises.
Which leads me to the next point:
If it's not obvious, Legacy of Justice is my baby, and by posting any suggestions here, you are giving your permission for me to use them as I see fit--up to and including my reprinting your material in other free venues or even for-profit publication without further compensation should LoJ ever develop that far.
However, should LoJ ever make it that far, I will always be careful to try to give due credit. No other promises.
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Bethyaga
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Hell's Scourge
The super-powered version of a post-apocalyptic biker gang. Six or eight SPB with a small posse of low-grade and mundane tagalongs. They are mean and evil. Pure Bad Guy. They roam the wastelands, taking whatever they need from whomever they find. Drugs, booze, women and food are all they care about (and a little violence mixed in for fun). When they come across a real community of any sort, they dispatch with any authority they can find, and then they sit around and terrorize the inhabitants until the supplies run out or until they get bored. Then they move on and do it again. They have a reputation, and most communities without the super power to defend themselves hope only to placate the Scourge long enough for them to get bored and finally leave without killing anyone (usually 2 or 3 days).
The super-powered version of a post-apocalyptic biker gang. Six or eight SPB with a small posse of low-grade and mundane tagalongs. They are mean and evil. Pure Bad Guy. They roam the wastelands, taking whatever they need from whomever they find. Drugs, booze, women and food are all they care about (and a little violence mixed in for fun). When they come across a real community of any sort, they dispatch with any authority they can find, and then they sit around and terrorize the inhabitants until the supplies run out or until they get bored. Then they move on and do it again. They have a reputation, and most communities without the super power to defend themselves hope only to placate the Scourge long enough for them to get bored and finally leave without killing anyone (usually 2 or 3 days).
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Bethyaga
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The Kennedy Compound
I don't know anything else about it except that it exists. JFK was never assassinated in this world, and RFK was elected to the office right after (and then killed in the apocalypse). The Kennedies are the stuff of legend. They are synonymous with "the good old days." Somewhere in New England, there must be a Kennedy Compound, where the surviving clan resides and works to restore at least some small part of America to its former glory. I don't know if they have (or are) super powered beings. I don't know if they are a cult or have been driven to some group madness. I don't know. Anyone can help fill this in, if they want.
I don't know anything else about it except that it exists. JFK was never assassinated in this world, and RFK was elected to the office right after (and then killed in the apocalypse). The Kennedies are the stuff of legend. They are synonymous with "the good old days." Somewhere in New England, there must be a Kennedy Compound, where the surviving clan resides and works to restore at least some small part of America to its former glory. I don't know if they have (or are) super powered beings. I don't know if they are a cult or have been driven to some group madness. I don't know. Anyone can help fill this in, if they want.
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Bethyaga
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Bulldrekkia
It needs another name, but the concept is Bulldrekkia. A place where a mysterious and unseen entity known only as The Machine (or maybe The Engine) somehow is able to contain and sustain a true anarchy--a system of perfect freedom that crumbles outside the sphere of The Machine's influence.
This one is probably an unworkable idea, but it certainly is enticing, is it not?
It needs another name, but the concept is Bulldrekkia. A place where a mysterious and unseen entity known only as The Machine (or maybe The Engine) somehow is able to contain and sustain a true anarchy--a system of perfect freedom that crumbles outside the sphere of The Machine's influence.
This one is probably an unworkable idea, but it certainly is enticing, is it not?
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Bethyaga
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The Codicer
Already seen as the narrator of much of the introduction. The Codicer is immortal. He is over 100 years old. His passion in life has always been stories--especially true stories. Before the fall, he was an ameteur historian who traveled to re-enactments and Renaissance Fairs and whatnot. His photographic memory and phenomenal gift for storytelling were reknowned. One odd fact though: his physical age seems frozen in his early 20's, but the Codicer has never stopped growing. He gets taller very slowly--less than a quarter inch a year, but when you are immortal, that adds up. Now, in 2004, the Codicer is right around eight feet tall--hugely tall, but thin and gangly (built like the Wakyambi from SR).
Only after the Apocalypse did the Codicer find his true calling: he is a preserver of history. He travels from town to town with whatever caravan will take him, spending a week or two in any given place, living off the coin he gets from his storytelling and odd jobs. But his main purpose is to learn, to gether new stories and new bits of history from any source he can find, and then to pass these tales on to others.
Already seen as the narrator of much of the introduction. The Codicer is immortal. He is over 100 years old. His passion in life has always been stories--especially true stories. Before the fall, he was an ameteur historian who traveled to re-enactments and Renaissance Fairs and whatnot. His photographic memory and phenomenal gift for storytelling were reknowned. One odd fact though: his physical age seems frozen in his early 20's, but the Codicer has never stopped growing. He gets taller very slowly--less than a quarter inch a year, but when you are immortal, that adds up. Now, in 2004, the Codicer is right around eight feet tall--hugely tall, but thin and gangly (built like the Wakyambi from SR).
Only after the Apocalypse did the Codicer find his true calling: he is a preserver of history. He travels from town to town with whatever caravan will take him, spending a week or two in any given place, living off the coin he gets from his storytelling and odd jobs. But his main purpose is to learn, to gether new stories and new bits of history from any source he can find, and then to pass these tales on to others.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
Oh...like I need more games, but count me in as interested then 
And no, hardly unworkable
The College
No one quite remembers what college, but they remember it was one once, its stately entrance and isolated campus stand proud against the surrounding desolation. Visitors are welcome, even encouranged at times, but many find it eerie or are unable to deal with the complete lack of organization in the place.
Within the campus, there are no rules. The flux affected outnumber the normals but everyone is free to do as they wish, regardless of power, ability, age or and other factor. This impossibility is overseen and enforced by an entity simply referred to as The Engine. No one claims to have ever seen The Engine, but everyone accepts it as a way of life and completely normal. Within the campus people have a decent to prosperous way of life, though within yards of leaving the campus even resisdents will start to be suspicious and uncoorpoerative of each other.
The population is small at roughly 3,000 people but far more people seem to have visited the city for a time and profess to being missionaries sent to spread news of the true freedom to others.
And no, hardly unworkable
The College
No one quite remembers what college, but they remember it was one once, its stately entrance and isolated campus stand proud against the surrounding desolation. Visitors are welcome, even encouranged at times, but many find it eerie or are unable to deal with the complete lack of organization in the place.
Within the campus, there are no rules. The flux affected outnumber the normals but everyone is free to do as they wish, regardless of power, ability, age or and other factor. This impossibility is overseen and enforced by an entity simply referred to as The Engine. No one claims to have ever seen The Engine, but everyone accepts it as a way of life and completely normal. Within the campus people have a decent to prosperous way of life, though within yards of leaving the campus even resisdents will start to be suspicious and uncoorpoerative of each other.
The population is small at roughly 3,000 people but far more people seem to have visited the city for a time and profess to being missionaries sent to spread news of the true freedom to others.
10:41 Kai: Ohayou minna
10:42 Adam: ENGLISH MOTHERFUCKER!
10:44 Kai: Fuck off, how's that? ;P
10:45 Adam: Much better.
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Cazmonster
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Hey! Where did my rifle go?
The Pack Rats insane
These demonlings slipped the shackles of Pholeach's control years ago, drawn irresistably to the shiny trinkets so many humans seemed to wear. Scores of them fled into the flux-ravaged sprawls of the east coast. There, they contested and bred with the common rats, becoming a permanent part of this world. Pholeach had his claws full with Shagroth's winged dragoons and the fight to control central New York state, so overlooked his miniature assistants.
Now, teams of quarter-height beings with sharp teeth and beetle-black eyes skulk through the shadows, intent on depriving normal people of treasured possessions. They have had generations to perfect the craft of thievery to an art form. Many shops and merchants on the east coast live in constant dread of an 'Infestation' of Pack Rats, given their rapaciousness. They are all driven to steal, and return the stolen objects back to central temples within the earth.
A handful of the Pack Rats have powers, lingering effects of demon-energy. Many of their powers have to do with silence, stealth, or the acquisition of the all important 'shinys'.
These demonlings slipped the shackles of Pholeach's control years ago, drawn irresistably to the shiny trinkets so many humans seemed to wear. Scores of them fled into the flux-ravaged sprawls of the east coast. There, they contested and bred with the common rats, becoming a permanent part of this world. Pholeach had his claws full with Shagroth's winged dragoons and the fight to control central New York state, so overlooked his miniature assistants.
Now, teams of quarter-height beings with sharp teeth and beetle-black eyes skulk through the shadows, intent on depriving normal people of treasured possessions. They have had generations to perfect the craft of thievery to an art form. Many shops and merchants on the east coast live in constant dread of an 'Infestation' of Pack Rats, given their rapaciousness. They are all driven to steal, and return the stolen objects back to central temples within the earth.
A handful of the Pack Rats have powers, lingering effects of demon-energy. Many of their powers have to do with silence, stealth, or the acquisition of the all important 'shinys'.
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Cazmonster
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Serious Paul
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I for one would be proud for any of this stuff to see any sort of print, if my name gets mentioned all the cooler!
Greenville
Population: 1.500
Description: This midsize village runs a thriving wood cutting and lumber business. After the disaster affected the worlds natural order many populated areas were retaken by nature, and mutant trees abound! But the hardy folk of Greenville work day after day to fight back the growth, and steward the land properly.
Game masters Notes: Greenville is a town with a terrible secret. The head of the saw mill runs the town, owning most of everything and having a heavy hand thanks to his super powered mutant overseers. He also wiorships an unholy god of darkness, using his super powered henchmen to rule the towns people with an iron fist!
Greenville
Population: 1.500
Description: This midsize village runs a thriving wood cutting and lumber business. After the disaster affected the worlds natural order many populated areas were retaken by nature, and mutant trees abound! But the hardy folk of Greenville work day after day to fight back the growth, and steward the land properly.
Game masters Notes: Greenville is a town with a terrible secret. The head of the saw mill runs the town, owning most of everything and having a heavy hand thanks to his super powered mutant overseers. He also wiorships an unholy god of darkness, using his super powered henchmen to rule the towns people with an iron fist!
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Bethyaga
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Manhattan
The whole of old New York City is a constant roiling mass of petty warlords and turf warfare. It is a mostly unchecked chaos, with only a rare few lawful elements (like The Commish and his new NYPD) trying to rein in the madness.
But the island of Manhattan is a whole 'nother ballgame. Sometime in the late 70's, after everyone thought the worst of the flux storms were past, a cabal of witches and sorcerors calling themselves the Dogs of New Amsterdam summoned up a storm of epic proportions, apparently with the intent of removing a huge chunk of NYC to the safety of a distant dimension. Instead however, the isle of Manhattan found itself floating ten feet above New York Harbor and creeping slowly out to sea.
After fifteen long minutes, the Dogs had spent all of their power, and Manhattan dropped unceremoniously into the harbor with a splash, not altogether too far from its original position. It was much worse for the wear, though, and was now sitting under twelve feet of water.
Nowadays, there are some large dry patches of ground in Manhattan, but for the most part, everything is submerged up to the second floor.
In the last 25 years, the island has slowly been taken over by mutants, as the other inhabitants all fled to more hospitable environs. Accompanied by a diverse array of mutant flora and fauna which have overtaken the crumbling towers of the old city, Manhattan has truly earned the name "concrete jungle".
The whole of old New York City is a constant roiling mass of petty warlords and turf warfare. It is a mostly unchecked chaos, with only a rare few lawful elements (like The Commish and his new NYPD) trying to rein in the madness.
But the island of Manhattan is a whole 'nother ballgame. Sometime in the late 70's, after everyone thought the worst of the flux storms were past, a cabal of witches and sorcerors calling themselves the Dogs of New Amsterdam summoned up a storm of epic proportions, apparently with the intent of removing a huge chunk of NYC to the safety of a distant dimension. Instead however, the isle of Manhattan found itself floating ten feet above New York Harbor and creeping slowly out to sea.
After fifteen long minutes, the Dogs had spent all of their power, and Manhattan dropped unceremoniously into the harbor with a splash, not altogether too far from its original position. It was much worse for the wear, though, and was now sitting under twelve feet of water.
Nowadays, there are some large dry patches of ground in Manhattan, but for the most part, everything is submerged up to the second floor.
In the last 25 years, the island has slowly been taken over by mutants, as the other inhabitants all fled to more hospitable environs. Accompanied by a diverse array of mutant flora and fauna which have overtaken the crumbling towers of the old city, Manhattan has truly earned the name "concrete jungle".
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Serious Paul
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Orlando
Population: ?
Description: After the disaster most of Florida south of Orlando was destroyed and sunk into the Caribbean, with the exception of Miami and the Dade county area. Orlando was to be the home of Disney World, Walt Disney’s gift to the children of the world, but construction was never completed. As the battle between Gigantor and the evil Armageddon raged onward, people fled north, some making it to Orlando before the rest of the state was destroyed, and eventually sunk with the burning bodies of Gigantor and Armageddon.
Game Masters Notes: Orlando is a haven for both Super Powered beings and mundane's. Run by a loose coalition of radical green parties, neoanarchist’s and hero wannabe’s. It’s a chaotic mess, a port town where almost anything can be had, and any cause can find a voice. I just wanted to wipe out Sarasota. Really.
Population: ?
Description: After the disaster most of Florida south of Orlando was destroyed and sunk into the Caribbean, with the exception of Miami and the Dade county area. Orlando was to be the home of Disney World, Walt Disney’s gift to the children of the world, but construction was never completed. As the battle between Gigantor and the evil Armageddon raged onward, people fled north, some making it to Orlando before the rest of the state was destroyed, and eventually sunk with the burning bodies of Gigantor and Armageddon.
Game Masters Notes: Orlando is a haven for both Super Powered beings and mundane's. Run by a loose coalition of radical green parties, neoanarchist’s and hero wannabe’s. It’s a chaotic mess, a port town where almost anything can be had, and any cause can find a voice. I just wanted to wipe out Sarasota. Really.
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Bethyaga
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Very nice, Paul
See, this is one of the things I'm really enjoying about this world. There's none of that messy "consistency" crap that tends to bog me down in other games. You like an idea? Make it.
LOL!I just wanted to wipe out Sarasota. Really.
See, this is one of the things I'm really enjoying about this world. There's none of that messy "consistency" crap that tends to bog me down in other games. You like an idea? Make it.
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Serious Paul
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Well I had this image in my head of a battle between Giant Man and Dr. Doom, then I saw an advertisement for some Cartoon Network show called the Big O, and I love Godzilla flicks, and I hate Sarasota....plus sunken bad guy armor and dead hero makes for a truely heroic tale. It all just sort of fell in place.
Paul watched the Bugs Bunny cartoon that had Bugs saw Florida off too many times...
For thos intrested I have been using Atlapedia as a good political map for ideas.
Paul watched the Bugs Bunny cartoon that had Bugs saw Florida off too many times...
For thos intrested I have been using Atlapedia as a good political map for ideas.
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Bethyaga
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Costumes
Even in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, superheroes and supervillians still create colorful super-costumes and come up with flashy super codenames. Of course, they have none of the spandex and lycra that really makes a bitchin' form-fitting ensemble, but that never stopped Superman back in the 30's, did it?
The supercostumes of 2004 tend to be more loose fitting and rough than outfits of the golden age, but tradition still dictates that superpeople distinguish themselves by their manner of dress.
Even in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, superheroes and supervillians still create colorful super-costumes and come up with flashy super codenames. Of course, they have none of the spandex and lycra that really makes a bitchin' form-fitting ensemble, but that never stopped Superman back in the 30's, did it?
The supercostumes of 2004 tend to be more loose fitting and rough than outfits of the golden age, but tradition still dictates that superpeople distinguish themselves by their manner of dress.
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Bethyaga
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Probably something like that, yes.
But then again, maybe we want to make it more of a group effort. I'm envisioning that you guys will be like the second string of the original American Union of Justice. You've been in suspended animation for 35 years and you emerge to the new world. It would be nice to have a cohesive team, since supposedly, you all would know each other well before the game starts.
On the other hand, if some or all of you want to be "modern" heroes who have grown up in the Shattered Earth, then we can work something out.
Overall, though, I'd really like some sort of cohesion/familiarity amongst most of the team members as we start.
Thoughts anyone?
But then again, maybe we want to make it more of a group effort. I'm envisioning that you guys will be like the second string of the original American Union of Justice. You've been in suspended animation for 35 years and you emerge to the new world. It would be nice to have a cohesive team, since supposedly, you all would know each other well before the game starts.
On the other hand, if some or all of you want to be "modern" heroes who have grown up in the Shattered Earth, then we can work something out.
Overall, though, I'd really like some sort of cohesion/familiarity amongst most of the team members as we start.
Thoughts anyone?
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Cazmonster
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I'd be happiest with a team as well. The lead characters would have been close before the suspended animation. You can't have a team of Silver Age heroes fighting each other all the time. Of course, with all of the changes the Flux energies caused, there could be tension building now.
I'm also getting the feeling that the game will be in some ways similar to the Filmation Flash Gordon cartoon of the late seventies/early eighties. The Heroes, with a larger purposed driving them on, will meet, fight, and then recruit powers from all over the Changed World. I like it.
I'm also getting the feeling that the game will be in some ways similar to the Filmation Flash Gordon cartoon of the late seventies/early eighties. The Heroes, with a larger purposed driving them on, will meet, fight, and then recruit powers from all over the Changed World. I like it.
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Cazmonster
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Cazmonster eats his double post with a side of cheese and bacon.
Last edited by Cazmonster on Fri Oct 31, 2003 10:57 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Cazmonster
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The thunder from Under
Jersey Devil misguided
Even before the events that destroyed Washington, there were rumors and hints of strange things lurking in the pollution and corruption of New Jersey. But now, now... there's something stalking the unwary, hunting the helpless. A few frightened villagers say it's a cloud with teeth, others saw a long, loping form with spiralling horns. The stories are outlandish and grow with each retelling, but so many stories mean there must be a kernal of truth.
The Jersey Devil is real, he (or she) is empathic and transubstantial. The Devil cannot see or hear, depending solely on the 'power' of emotions to light it's way. Bad emotions, like sorrow, frustration and the like are decent, but good emotions are far better.
Even before the events that destroyed Washington, there were rumors and hints of strange things lurking in the pollution and corruption of New Jersey. But now, now... there's something stalking the unwary, hunting the helpless. A few frightened villagers say it's a cloud with teeth, others saw a long, loping form with spiralling horns. The stories are outlandish and grow with each retelling, but so many stories mean there must be a kernal of truth.
The Jersey Devil is real, he (or she) is empathic and transubstantial. The Devil cannot see or hear, depending solely on the 'power' of emotions to light it's way. Bad emotions, like sorrow, frustration and the like are decent, but good emotions are far better.
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Bethyaga
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I still don't know. I'm thinking that if there is a modern hero, he (she) would be the one to accidentally free the AUJ from it's trap. He then becomes their guild (of sorts).DV8 wrote:Okay, I'm fine with that. The idea of playing a modern hero is very intruiging, too...though you seem to have reservations about it. Are you sure you want to allow that? I mean, don't get my hopes up!
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
Yes. Sorry, I should have put that up sooner.
Caz
DV8
Thorn
Kai
Kyle (should he ever deign to make an account and join the discussion)
It is my experience that in scheduling an IRC game, at least one person will drop out before showtime. If that happens here, Mrs. Beth says she MIGHT sit in on this one, but supers aren't really her bag. I think she was hoping I'd do the prison game next.
Caz
DV8
Thorn
Kai
Kyle (should he ever deign to make an account and join the discussion)
It is my experience that in scheduling an IRC game, at least one person will drop out before showtime. If that happens here, Mrs. Beth says she MIGHT sit in on this one, but supers aren't really her bag. I think she was hoping I'd do the prison game next.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
I never gave Scamp a go-ahead. There's no offense intended. I like Scamp a lot, but I made clear from the beginning that this wasn't a first come, first serve sort of thing. I sent personal invites to people I thought I would like, but then also opened it up in this thread to see if there was interest from unexpected quarters. Some of my invite people got in. Some politely declined. And then there's people like you Deev. I didn't invite you, because I didn't think this was your style. But once you volunteered, I bumped you immediately to the top of the list, because you're wicked smart, you've got a good mind for games, and I've never had the pleasure of gaming with you before. It's nothing against Scamp, it's just that after my pre-filled spots, I only had one or two real openings to play with.
Although, Scamp, I seriously doubt my wife will play, so if I get down to t-minus two weeks and I'm down to only three or four players again, you're the first person I'd ask--if you could make time by then. Kind of a weak consolation prize, but there it is.
Although, Scamp, I seriously doubt my wife will play, so if I get down to t-minus two weeks and I'm down to only three or four players again, you're the first person I'd ask--if you could make time by then. Kind of a weak consolation prize, but there it is.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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Anguirel
- Freeman of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2278
- Joined: Sat Oct 05, 2002 12:04 pm
- Location: City of Angels
Feel free to change names. I was bored when I wrote this, but wholly lacking inspiration for good names.
Here There Be Monsters - Community, Good
Population: ~2,000
Description: Named for a notation on an old map that happened to indicate more or less where the town was situated, this is a growing community of Mutants too ugly, too weird or just plain unwanted in other places. Kermit, a giant frogman, is the nominal leader of the group. He wasn't elected, no one swears fealty to him, but whenever a big decision needs to be made he somehow ends up being the one who makes it. He and his fellow Muppets (see below) keep order and more or less run the town, which functions as an agrarian commune for the most part. They export some medicines and food to other places in exchange for crafted goods they don't have the means to produce. Not that many traders are willing to come, but those who do usually find their efforts well rewarded.
Game Master's Notes: The town has a deep dark secret. The Muppets keep it and don't let on and most of the community has no idea, though. See Below.
Muppets - Misguided
These mutants have a bit more power than the rest of the community. They act as police and minuteman militia. They also manufacture a drug, called PIS (Pigs In Space!), which infuses those who imbibe it with more Flux, leading to more mutants and SPBs being born, generally more on the mutant end. They believe that they are helping humanity to evolve to a new level. Unfortunately the drug has the side effect of also dulling the mind's defenses, allowing even a weak telepath to invade and control one's thoughts. The group secretly puts PIS into all the food and medicine exported from Here There Be Monsters.
Kermit - Insane
Kermit is a giant mutant frogman with weak telepathic powers. However, his skin secretes an oil which dulls the mind and allows his power to take full effect. He harvests this oil and concentrates it into PIS with the help of the other Muppets. He is absolutely convinced that everyone would be better off if only they were mutants like him. He also secretly (even from the Muppets) doses the food served within the compound with PIS, which is why he always seems to make the decisions. Whereas the other Muppets might be convinced of the error of their ways, Kermit has been warped by his transformation and subsequent banishment from ordinary society. When attacked, he will call upon the entire community to defend him, and unless previously strongly convinced otherwise, the entire community will respond.
Here There Be Monsters - Community, Good
Population: ~2,000
Description: Named for a notation on an old map that happened to indicate more or less where the town was situated, this is a growing community of Mutants too ugly, too weird or just plain unwanted in other places. Kermit, a giant frogman, is the nominal leader of the group. He wasn't elected, no one swears fealty to him, but whenever a big decision needs to be made he somehow ends up being the one who makes it. He and his fellow Muppets (see below) keep order and more or less run the town, which functions as an agrarian commune for the most part. They export some medicines and food to other places in exchange for crafted goods they don't have the means to produce. Not that many traders are willing to come, but those who do usually find their efforts well rewarded.
Game Master's Notes: The town has a deep dark secret. The Muppets keep it and don't let on and most of the community has no idea, though. See Below.
Muppets - Misguided
These mutants have a bit more power than the rest of the community. They act as police and minuteman militia. They also manufacture a drug, called PIS (Pigs In Space!), which infuses those who imbibe it with more Flux, leading to more mutants and SPBs being born, generally more on the mutant end. They believe that they are helping humanity to evolve to a new level. Unfortunately the drug has the side effect of also dulling the mind's defenses, allowing even a weak telepath to invade and control one's thoughts. The group secretly puts PIS into all the food and medicine exported from Here There Be Monsters.
Kermit - Insane
Kermit is a giant mutant frogman with weak telepathic powers. However, his skin secretes an oil which dulls the mind and allows his power to take full effect. He harvests this oil and concentrates it into PIS with the help of the other Muppets. He is absolutely convinced that everyone would be better off if only they were mutants like him. He also secretly (even from the Muppets) doses the food served within the compound with PIS, which is why he always seems to make the decisions. Whereas the other Muppets might be convinced of the error of their ways, Kermit has been warped by his transformation and subsequent banishment from ordinary society. When attacked, he will call upon the entire community to defend him, and unless previously strongly convinced otherwise, the entire community will respond.
complete. dirty. whore.
_Patience said: Ang, you are truly a font of varied and useful information.
IRC Fun:
<Reika> What a glorious way to die.
<Jackal> What are you, Klingon?
<Reika> Worse, a paladin.
<Jackal> We're all fucked.
_Patience said: Ang, you are truly a font of varied and useful information.
IRC Fun:
<Reika> What a glorious way to die.
<Jackal> What are you, Klingon?
<Reika> Worse, a paladin.
<Jackal> We're all fucked.
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
And I think everyone understands this, but the only real difference between mutants and SPB's is that mutants have obvious physical changes, usually resulting in a freakish appearance. That, and mutants are also all born that way or mutated as a result of direct contact with flux. SPB's may get their power from technology or magic or other sources as well just having them be innate.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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Threadbare
- Bulldrek Junkie
- Posts: 499
- Joined: Sun Mar 31, 2002 8:22 pm
- Location: yuma, princeton, budapest
Yorba Linda, California: Misguided
Population: ~5,000, much greater with neighboring communities figured in.
Description: When he said, "You won't have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore," he was lying. But we didn't know to what extent until he seized control of Orange County using eldritch magicks combined with a promise to return law and order to the land. If you're an honest, hardworking citizen in Yorba Linda, you have nothing to fear. But anyone who crosses the "president" (made even more powerful and paranoid by exposure to Flux) must watch out for the million pound shithammer he's sure to bring down. Nixon's battles with Oscar Zeta Acosta (aka Doctor Gonzo, aka The Brown Buffalo, whose story would be outlined in a description of East LA) are legendary, culminating in the Battle of Interstate 5 in the early eighties. The town itself is an orderly, clean little community. It's fairly nondescript, concentrating mostly on agriculture and administration of the territory.
Notes:Nixon is still alive in this world, though he is thinner and paler, sorta like those long-lived sorcerors that Conan always battled. He believes that what he is doing is good, and that they really are all out to get him. For inspiration, read some Hunter S. Thompson.
Population: ~5,000, much greater with neighboring communities figured in.
Description: When he said, "You won't have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore," he was lying. But we didn't know to what extent until he seized control of Orange County using eldritch magicks combined with a promise to return law and order to the land. If you're an honest, hardworking citizen in Yorba Linda, you have nothing to fear. But anyone who crosses the "president" (made even more powerful and paranoid by exposure to Flux) must watch out for the million pound shithammer he's sure to bring down. Nixon's battles with Oscar Zeta Acosta (aka Doctor Gonzo, aka The Brown Buffalo, whose story would be outlined in a description of East LA) are legendary, culminating in the Battle of Interstate 5 in the early eighties. The town itself is an orderly, clean little community. It's fairly nondescript, concentrating mostly on agriculture and administration of the territory.
Notes:Nixon is still alive in this world, though he is thinner and paler, sorta like those long-lived sorcerors that Conan always battled. He believes that what he is doing is good, and that they really are all out to get him. For inspiration, read some Hunter S. Thompson.
_
If I wasn't so busy commanding more than one ship without holding flag rank, I would come down there to New London Towne and show a few people a thing or two about OFFICERship."
--The Commodore
Keep the Funk Alive.
If I wasn't so busy commanding more than one ship without holding flag rank, I would come down there to New London Towne and show a few people a thing or two about OFFICERship."
--The Commodore
Keep the Funk Alive.