First, go here:
http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Superpower_Wiki

Next, click the 'random page' option twice, the two powers you get would be the powers the user above you have.
You'll have to repick another random power if you get any of the following power:
-Omni- stuff
-Absolute- stuff
-Meta powers
-Almighty powers
-Reality manipulation
-Time/causality manipulation beyond FF style (stop, haste, slow,) and bullet time.
-Perfection
-Transendence
-Any power with direct links to the skills above.

Then, you're to design a super identity for them. From costume, supernames, a superhero or supervillain, what they usually do with their powers (favored tactic), backstory if you want, and for those who received a power with wide scale chaos/destruction potential (or general inability to use in small scale) please describe why they're not abusing it (it hit them too, cost too much, morals, stuff).

Example:
Mahz:
Powers:
http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Miracle_Performing
http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Giant_Monster_Physiology
Description:
The first identified and documented super, the creator and watchman of spamopolis. It's unknown how he came to be, only that the huge super suddenly showed up in the area, rampaging in the wildland and flattened the ground before, in what can only be described as a miracle, erected the city known as spamopolis in a blink of an eye. Survivors would then be ushered the survivors of his rampage into the town to inhabit it.

Alpha-Justice

He likes fighting crime with a gun and a flag on his back. He dresses like a police officer but with a mask that looks like the usual 1970's cop.

His main bad guy is Jamaican Mobster Manny, who steals from banks with the rausta tune playing. he also kidnaps your girlfriend every so often and occasionally steals your bike.

http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Acid_Beam_Emission
http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Snow_Mimicry

One day a simple man named Broby went upon an expedition into the far northern reaches of the world. He was assumed dead.

One day he came back, but he was no longer Broby, he was Frostbite, the Winter Scourge.

A shapeless body of snow sometimes in a human form, Broby draws power from the winter, living in the mountains during the summer and coming out in November to begin his campaign of destruction. His motives are simple, destroy all of the petty things created by man and bring the world back to nature. He uses his acid breath to melt through whatever stands in his way and his manipulation of snow makes him bigger and stronger.

Web Breath and String Protrustion.

One day, some guy decided to eat a bunch of spiders and scorpions, because he was really hungry and in Australia or something, so there was nothing else to eat. Turns out that shit gives you superpowers.

Well, I got ninja'd. Time to do Nex.

Lady Squee said
Well, I got ninja'd. Time to do Nex.

That was awesome squee :)

Person below me do Squee, not mee.

No one knows how The All Powerful Empress Squee came into existence. Some say a science experiment gone horridly wrong, others a magical amulet. What we do know is that she commands the forces of Magnetokinetic Constructs and Laser Manipulation Some say if you worship her, she will gift you her protection. Though most never dare bask in her presence.

Several years ago, in a snowy, stereotypically Siberian-ish, wasteland, something ancient awoke. Something deadly. It was then promptly destroyed by the awesome might of VATROUnious, a being of world-changing powers so unusual they could almost have been randomly-generated, like Electromagnetic Creature Creation and Particle Swarm generation. Heralded as the greatest hero in the western half of American Samoa, VATROUnious patrols the world, searching for evildoers who invite down upon them fiery and/or electromagnetic-based wrath!

[Note: originally Meta Power Manipulation came up, but that seemed way too OP.]

While his name defies typical superhero nomenclature, randomness being favoured above derivation from their goals or powers, the hilariously-named "The Zump" is nonetheless a foe that the evils of the world should fear. All that is known about his original identity is that he was a petty criminal, a man who leant close to the dark and criminal side of the human psyche himself, and he utilises this as he fights to protect the world from men like the man he used to be.

The Zump's prior criminality was a product of a bad childhood. When his father abandoned him, taking his brother away too, The Zump was left to care for his sick and eventually abusive mother on his own. Struggling to cope in such a toxic environment, he was desperate for friendship and companionship - a fact that the criminal underworld in his area was all too happy to exploit. They befriended him, and his undying gratefulness and loyalty allowed them to use him, and to twist him away from the path of the light. When his mother died, they took him in, and his transformation was complete. He became a criminal in his own right, raised to have a backwards and confusing moral code of his own that told him that he was right to attack society - for none believe themselves to be evil, only to be acting by a different moral compass.

He gained his powers when attempting a heist - the armed robbery of a scientific laboratory deep in the bowels of the earth, as an unaware henchman of another supervillain. He was injured in the raid, thrown through the glass wall of some bizarre machine, and, living up to their mercenary reputations, his comrades abandoned him to die or be imprisoned. While down there, locked in the depths, in the darkness, something occurred - something terrible, for those who found him later rumour that his mouth was bloody from a throat stripped raw by screaming. He was purged of his criminal intent, either through supernatural force or through an epiphany that his "friends" had never really cared about him and a subsequent rejection of their twisted philosophy. It turned out that the machine he had been thrown into, glass and metal piercing his body, was designed as an experimental way to transfer consciousness into machines - and, though it was only in testing stages before it was broken, it had worked on The Zump, giving him the power of Bionic Surrogacy.

Something else had happened to him, however. Either as a conscious, cruel play on the darkness of his criminal mind prior to the incident, or a result of being trapped in the pitch darkness below the Earth's crust while he was changed, when he emerged from the darkness, a part of it stayed with him. A shadow lurked over his soul, a constant reminder of his past evils and of the fear of the dark he had felt during his ordeal, and along with this sliver of shade constantly piercing his heart he gained the ability to manipulate shadow into whips - and only, specifically whips, a reminder of the cringing, dutiful, obeying dog he had been to the criminals who had once used him.

Now, The Zump fights for both the right and wrong reasons. Both personal revenge and a need to rectify his past wrongdoings motivate him beyond the simple call of justice and altruism that many superheroes feel in defeating evil. Regardless of whether he is doing it for the right reasons, however, he fights for the side of good, now - and any criminal should fear his wrath.

.

EDIT: I was bored and avoiding going shopping, don't judge me. D:

Huh, I might actually add meta and almighty power to the "pick again" list.
Also, people, don't forget to describe the costume!

Halo said
EDIT: I was bored and avoiding going shopping, don't judge me. D:

David MacArthur had long been a prominent writer of science fiction, drawing readers into an immense science fiction world where the characters leaped from the pages and into the minds and hearts of his readers. He had won awards, and received accolades as one of the premier writers of his time. That was ten years ago. The accident changed everything, even though it had seemed minor enough. One morning, as he was leaving the house to take his dogs for a walk, one chased after something, twisting him off balance until he fell down the stairs. He was found unconscious by his wife an hour later.

Other than the abrasion of his forehead, he seemed fine, no broken bones, but the concussion and resulting brain damage, though minor, would reveal itself in the coming months. His imagination was dry, the well that once overflowed with characters and ideas was now barren. His focus was lost, he had trouble concentrating on any one thing for more than an hour. His publishers, understanding at first, became impatient for another novel, and finally, cut ties with him. The loss of his work was hard enough, but the loss of his life was his imagination. No long able to conjure the characters he once admired and adored, exploring their exploits.

Ten years went by, as he steadily withdrew from the world, finding the numbing sensation of alcohol to provide temporary relief of his bitter longing. His marriage was in shambles, his wife he was sure was cheating on him, so he cheated in turn. His feelings of worthlessness, failure, rejection, and guilt over cheating drove him to two failed suicide attempts. Life was not worth living if there was no hope of it getting better.

Yet, after his stomach was purged of the overdose of medication of his second attempt, a pair of doctors came to see him. They were researchers, testing a new technique to fix damaged cells, without invasive surgery. It had shown promise with rats that had ulcers to brain cancer. Desperation made him agree. Hope! He had forgotten what it felt like. Precautions were taken when he went to the research lab, his wife by his side. She still loved him, he wasn't sure how, the fog of depression unveiling his eyes, he couldn't understand how she stayed with him over the years, but he was so glad of her support, her love, her tender encouragement. She held his hand as he laid upon the table, and the injection of the nanites began.

David did not go home a new man, the process would take time as his body and nanites adapted to each other. It would take time for the nanites to begin repairing the damaged sections of his brain. But hope kept him going. He would imagine again, he would remember more, and it all came to pass. A little over a year after the procedure, his book was a national best seller. His publishers were ecstatic, his marriage was whole once more, he had reconnected with friends and family, everything would be perfect it it weren't for that dark, probing claw in his mind. That silent voice of unheard whispers, of visions of terror and shadows that he couldn't remember when he woke in the dark of the night.

Mid way through his second book, he heard it. A voice. Like dark hatred given words and sound. Of vile, repulsive rage spewed forth from the incarnation of hatred. It spoke one word, "Worthless." More words followed, and he feared seeing a psychiatrist for the effect it might have on his book sales. He ignored it. He tried to drown it out with music, with activity, with love, and finally with alcohol. Nothing worked, it only made the voice louder. More insistent. More...influential. It whispered lies into his ear, his wife was cheating on him again. Another man was fucking her. How dare she? The publishers were using him. He worked so hard, but how much of the profits did he see? Jealousy, twisted lies and hatred build within his heart.

When he finally broke, it was like the an egg being broken from the inside out, a shadow of black tearing through the shell of a man; Electricity generated by the nanites and his body surged outwards, forming an aura around him as he assaulted his wife, leaving charred ash as the electricity burned through her clothes, skin and muscle like a cutting torch. Her screams of agony, of sheer terror eventually brought David back to himself. But the sight of his broken wife, and the glowing, sparkling, high pitched whining aura of electricity about him finished off David MacArthur.

Halo stepped into the void left by the dying soul of a man. Smiling a toothy grin, a stream of metallic black leaking from his eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and every other orifice of his body began to pool at his side. A small, doll-like figure grew of the nanites, the head forming, and then looking up at him, not by twisting of its neck, but my shifting the near-featureless face upwards to its creator. A finger pointed to the charred form of David's wife, driven to gibbering madness from the pain and vision of what she was witnessing. "Feed. Grow." The words weighted the air with an unnatural presence, like reality was torn apart by the very voice that uttered them. Inhuman. As the woman screamed, high pitched an shrill as the nanites swarmed over and into her, deconstructing her body to self-replicate, the once-man moved, stiffly to the window of the house, overlooking the city. "Halo. Halo Comes."

Now I want to go back and remake the character for Lady Squee. And another thought. What if we RPed as these characters? Oh that could be interesting. Leaving the powers and Persona up to another user.