That's a lot of lorem ipsum!
Absolute Comics: The Advertisement Thread Page 4
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mickilennial The Elder Fae
Member
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0-24 hrs ago
unicorgi I don’t have discord
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5 yrs ago
Welp looks like it’s time to whip out this character
1x Laugh
Hillan I'm a writer - Lying's what we do.
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4 hrs ago
Welp looks like it’s time to whip out this character
Godspeed.
unicorgi I don’t have discord
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5 yrs ago
What does affiliation mean? Is that like alignments
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DocTachyon Teenage Neenage Neetle Teetles
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3 days ago
@unicorgi Just some organization or larger group you're associated with. For example, for my Spider-Man sheet I put down Midtown High. Hal Jordan might put Green Lantern Corps., etc.
unicorgi I don’t have discord
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Seen
5 yrs ago
Ah ok
Time to copy straight from the fandom page :P
Or maybe make up my own
Time to copy straight from the fandom page :P
Or maybe make up my own
1x Laugh
OP
Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat
Member
Seen
2 hrs ago
how much interpretation and changing the character is allowed?”
Dibs on gwenom unless already taken then gwenpool and if that’s taken then rocket raccoon and if that’s taken then ima go sit in a corner and cry
Posting speed and length?
As long as the character is still recognizable, you can change and interpret them how you wish. In terms of posting, posts must meet the minimum requirements for casual, but generally, I look for three to five, well formed and developed paragraphs. Posting speed I expect a post every one to two weeks ideally but I understand if there are delays or if some people wish to post more often.
The most important question is
Is rocket raccoon taken????
No character is currently taken as official acceptances won't be given out until the launch of the OOC later this week. If you are interested in the same character as someone else, you are allowed to compete with them provided your app is up within twenty-four hours of them posting theirs. After this, the other GMs and I will compare the two sheets and decide whose concept and sample post we enjoyed more.
One person is going to play all the guardians?
Or mix them into one character??
Darn you brain why do you have to want starlord now
Due to the nature of these games, it's often easier for players to control a small time like the Guardians as though they were 'one character'. However, some players may be willing to share and collaborate but this is generally not encouraged as too many players relying on other players can lead to a slowed IC and worst if one player were to disappear. Again, hence why some players apply as an entire team of characters. That said, you can't apply as the Avengers or Justice League, it simply isn't the same.
If we got batman (or superman/supergrill ) one must say they need a sidekick yes? Willing to work with anybody working on one of those kinds of characters.
Basically all of the above applies here, ideally we're looking for players who are comfortable with writing independently. Anchoring yourself to another player isn't ideal in this style of game.
2x Like
DocTachyon Teenage Neenage Neetle Teetles
Member
Seen
3 days ago
Here's my shot at Spider-Man! I'm very unhappy with the sample post but it's... Something. Probably going to rework over this week. Hope everyone enjoys what I've got so far.
EDIT: Aaand of course I forgot the witty quote. One is forthcoming. Probably.
The gunshot knifed through the Autumn air. Above the traffic and the footsteps of millions, beyond sputtering tailpipes and screaming merchants, it was the one sound that rang in Peter Parker’s ears. Over and over and over again. He felt like he was small again, hearing the phone crash into the receiver as Aunt May staggered. Death.
It hit his heart before it his his brain, and he was running. His feet cracked against the pavement. He might’ve been leaving divots, he didn’t care, just pressing forward. The suit around him tightened, he felt it in the very fibers of his muscles, giving him the boost he needed. His vision was tunneled, but it didn’t matter. He was guided between passerby as if they weren’t there at all, the only evidence of his passing left in the explosions of his footfalls. The rest of his senses had singular focus.
The gunman’s footsteps were a cacophony, echoing through a hundred yards of pavement and reverberating with every cell in his body, even his stench filled Peter, sweat and adrenaline and blood and fear -- and it was getting farther and farther away. A football field. Two. The crowds were too much. Instantaneously, Peter’s legs coiled and he launched a half dozen meters in the air. A hand snapped forward and a webline pirouetted through the sky, snagging onto a flagpole.
His momentum carried him through the swing, he released and hung over the streets for a moment. It felt like an eternity, a spider hunting for his prey. There. Peter picked the ski mask out of the crowd, bobbing and weaving, waving a gun at anyone that didn’t move fast enough. Peter’s body compressed into a missile and he shot downward. At the last second he launched another web and pulled. He sailed down the street and hit the ground in a roll.
He was almost upon the gunman, now. If he listened close, he could hear the gunman’s panicked breathing. He was already haggard from running, like there were rocks in his lungs. Peter was low to the ground, and the concrete below him was a blur as he closed the distance. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten. The gunman rounded a corner.
A web hooked into the corner of a building and Peter pulled himself around at speed, and the gunman was gone. Thousands of faces swirled before him, all staring at the man with the white spider on his chest. A ski mask. One goddamn ski mask ripped off and freeing the bastard that shot...
“Damnit!” Peter’s fist lanced out and cleaved a hunk of brickwork from the corner. Passerby staggered back, screaming. His own voice came to him as if in a dream: What am I doing? Peter shook his head. Who… Who had been shot, anyway? It wasn’t… No. It couldn’t be.
His suit began to fade as he turned, running back from where he came. A superhuman’s sprint became a teenager’s jog, black boots warping back into hand-me-down converse. It couldn’t be, right? Just a dream he’d seen in the heat of the moment. That guy shot at someone, so he’d only imagine the worst, right?
Right?
There was a crowd gathered around the car. That wasn’t Ben’s car. It couldn’t be. It was a green Honda, but plenty of people drove those. And plenty of people had the Midtown High Student Achievement stickers on the back window. And more people than that had the ESU alumni bumper plates. And Ben’s sticker for Vets and May’s stupid fish thing and that license plate number and… Oh God.
“Move! Please!” Peter’s muscles felt like they were made out of jello, a tiny little creature in a crowd full of giants. A kid again. The people interlocked and swirled, cascading over one another in waves, not a one of them stepping forward to help.
“Please!” Peter was lost in their ocean, fighting to just get closer. He remembered that day, so many people, so many gifts that were supposed to make him feel better, Aunt May hugging herself by the fireplace while Ben bounced him up and down on his knee, over and over and over again. Ben’s face through the crowds just trying to pay their respects, someone else who really felt something. He couldn’t do it again. Not with Ben.
“It’s my Uncle! Let me through!” Finally he made his way, falling forward through the group. His powers were gone from him and a scraped knee ripped across his consciousness. He pushed himself to his feet and there he saw it. Uncle Ben.
He was slumped against the side of the car. The red was everywhere, pumping steadily out of a little hole in his abdomen. Both of his hands were pressed into the wound and he was tight-lipped. Peter couldn’t see tears. He just stared right through at the ground, his mind somewhere else, trying to think of some way through this.
“Ben?” Peter’s voice cracked.
“Peter.” Red rimmed eyes met his. Still, Ben smiled. Peter stumbled closer, both knees knocked hard against the pavement.
“Ben, Ben, it’sgonnabeokay Ben, I promise, I… I--” Ben’s hand came around his back and pulled him close. He was so warm.
“S’okay, Peter. S’okay.” Peter could feel the blood leaking onto his jeans, but he pulled himself closer to Ben, running his hands through his Uncle’s hair. No no no no no no... He could hear an ambulance now, piercing the noise of the crowd.
“Peter…” Ben’s hand found its way to his face, his thumb made slow circles over the boy’s cheek. Somehow he kept up that great big smile of his through the blood and the pain, but Peter saw the mask of death, twisted into macabre acceptance. Peter wouldn’t have it. Ambulance tires screeched, just yards away. The smell of the burning rubber hadn’t reached Peter’s nose before he was yelling.
“Hey! Hey!” The crowds were parting. “Help us! Please!” Maybe there was a chance. A hand tugged at his shirt. It was so weak. Ben’s eyes drifted, they couldn’t meet Peter’s.
“I love you Pete...” Ben started again. “You’re--You’re so--” Peter pulled Ben closer, he pumped his arms, trying to wave the crowd away, clear a path for the paramedics. They were so close.
“Save your strength… Please. They’re so… We’re so close… I can’t.” Peter swallowed. “Please.”
Ben stared back at him. His hand was stained red. Still pressed against his wounds. The paramedics were upon them now, and Peter was pushed away as they set to work, kneeling beside him.
Ben could only watch Peter was he was pulled away. Through the haze of encroaching darkness, all he saw was his nephew; fists curling, and a face twisted into some emotion Ben could not recognize in the boy.
EDIT: Aaand of course I forgot the witty quote. One is forthcoming. Probably.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
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S P I D E R - M A N
P E T E R B E N J A M I N P A R K E R ♦ S T U D E N T ♦ N E W Y O R K C I T Y ♦ M I D T O W N H I G H
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"... Define 'witty'?"
Peter Benjamin Parker was born to Richard and Mary Parker, out of an unassuming home in Queens. What would be a fairly ordinary childhood was cut short when his parents were killed in a random car accident. The other driver was never caught, but such as it is with New York City. The young Peter, only six at the time, quickly found himself in the care of his aunt and uncle, May and Ben Parker.
Peter has found himself in their care for the better part of ten years, now. Though the Parker family was never wealthy, they found their happiness in other ways -- Peter was always fascinated with little tinker toys Ben brought for him, content to fidget and experiment his days away, while Ben and May would dance in the living room to old records. It was never perfect, but Peter always found it a certain kind of idyllic. His parents' deaths were long behind him, and he took comfort in his life with Ben and May. Along the way, he made a fledgling group of friends in and around Queens: Gwen Stacy, child of a cop and a personal confidant, Harry Osborn, son a veritable super genius and still the only man alive to beat Peter at Mario Kart, and Mary Jane Watson, a girl with a fire in her heart like nothing else. Even Flash Thompson palled around with them in Elementary School, but he'd grown to be something of a bully in recent years. Peter always knew that High School changed people, but he never really found out how much until the day of the Oscorp field trip.
Thanks to some wheedling from the Osborn heir apparent, a school field trip brought Peter's entire sophomore class for a day at Oscorp Industries. They were touring the genetics lab, but anyone who was anyone knew what Oscorp was really interested in; an extra-planetary substance that seemed somehow capable of enhancing whatever it was applied to. It was largely inert, but the substance did seem to move on its own troublingly often. Such behavior was chalked up to residual static discharge by Oscorp Weapons Mechanics, an error in judgment they would come to regret. On the day of the field trip, the substance gathered enough energy to breach containment and escape into the wider world, riding whatever host it deemed appropriate. As the visitors from Midtown High were being evacuated amid the breach, Peter spotted an unusually large, black arachnid, not of any species known to him. Concluding the spider must be playing host to the escaped creature, Peter attempted to capture and return it. He reached for it, and --
Peter awoke the next day in his bedroom, Aunt May and Uncle Ben at either side. He'd suddenly collapsed at Oscorp, evidently from stress, and was brought straight back home. The following weeks were full of revelations for Peter -- he found he had enhanced strength, speed, and even the ability to shoot webbing from his wrists or crawl on walls. On top of it all, he'd gained the ability to seemingly transform the clothes on his body to any shape he desired. Somehow, he'd gained the abilities of a spider and more, and he wasn't about to let them go to waste. It was about time the Parkers had another source of income. A three-match wrestling career as "The Black Spider" was cut short when Peter allowed an armed robber to flee the arena. The man had an armful of cash stolen from the Tournament Organizer who refused Peter what he was owed, suspecting he had stacked the deck by being a "metahuman". Once allowed him to get away, the man shot his Uncle Ben in a carjacking; nearly fatally, too. Ben suffered permanent spinal damage. Doctors suspected he'd never walk again, and none of them could tell Peter anything useful that he could do. So he decided to make his own way, and hunt down the man who shot his Uncle, as... THE INDOMITABLE SPIDER-MAN!
Peter has found himself in their care for the better part of ten years, now. Though the Parker family was never wealthy, they found their happiness in other ways -- Peter was always fascinated with little tinker toys Ben brought for him, content to fidget and experiment his days away, while Ben and May would dance in the living room to old records. It was never perfect, but Peter always found it a certain kind of idyllic. His parents' deaths were long behind him, and he took comfort in his life with Ben and May. Along the way, he made a fledgling group of friends in and around Queens: Gwen Stacy, child of a cop and a personal confidant, Harry Osborn, son a veritable super genius and still the only man alive to beat Peter at Mario Kart, and Mary Jane Watson, a girl with a fire in her heart like nothing else. Even Flash Thompson palled around with them in Elementary School, but he'd grown to be something of a bully in recent years. Peter always knew that High School changed people, but he never really found out how much until the day of the Oscorp field trip.
Thanks to some wheedling from the Osborn heir apparent, a school field trip brought Peter's entire sophomore class for a day at Oscorp Industries. They were touring the genetics lab, but anyone who was anyone knew what Oscorp was really interested in; an extra-planetary substance that seemed somehow capable of enhancing whatever it was applied to. It was largely inert, but the substance did seem to move on its own troublingly often. Such behavior was chalked up to residual static discharge by Oscorp Weapons Mechanics, an error in judgment they would come to regret. On the day of the field trip, the substance gathered enough energy to breach containment and escape into the wider world, riding whatever host it deemed appropriate. As the visitors from Midtown High were being evacuated amid the breach, Peter spotted an unusually large, black arachnid, not of any species known to him. Concluding the spider must be playing host to the escaped creature, Peter attempted to capture and return it. He reached for it, and --
Peter awoke the next day in his bedroom, Aunt May and Uncle Ben at either side. He'd suddenly collapsed at Oscorp, evidently from stress, and was brought straight back home. The following weeks were full of revelations for Peter -- he found he had enhanced strength, speed, and even the ability to shoot webbing from his wrists or crawl on walls. On top of it all, he'd gained the ability to seemingly transform the clothes on his body to any shape he desired. Somehow, he'd gained the abilities of a spider and more, and he wasn't about to let them go to waste. It was about time the Parkers had another source of income. A three-match wrestling career as "The Black Spider" was cut short when Peter allowed an armed robber to flee the arena. The man had an armful of cash stolen from the Tournament Organizer who refused Peter what he was owed, suspecting he had stacked the deck by being a "metahuman". Once allowed him to get away, the man shot his Uncle Ben in a carjacking; nearly fatally, too. Ben suffered permanent spinal damage. Doctors suspected he'd never walk again, and none of them could tell Peter anything useful that he could do. So he decided to make his own way, and hunt down the man who shot his Uncle, as... THE INDOMITABLE SPIDER-MAN!
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
My Peter is very different from the vanilla version. He's got the symbiote suit to start, and his Uncle Ben isn't dead, at least not yet. This is a Peter who hasn't quite gotten "With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility" through his head yet, and is hell-bent on bringing the man that shot his Uncle to justice, by any means necessary. On top of it all, he's very, very green to his job and has no idea what he's doing.
To be clear, these changes aren't made to have an angstier or edgier Peter, though there will be a sprig of that as is the nature of the symbiote. I want to tell a story about a struggling Peter, his family is sinking in debt under Hospital bills, he's unraveling the case of his Uncle's shooting while contesting a Police Department that refuses to work with him, all while dealing with the trials and tribulations of High School. This will be a story about Peter being pushed to his limitations and confronting them, a story about family and expectations, and above all else, a story about what Great Responsibility really means. He's going to make a lot of bad choices, and be thoroughly punished for them, to force him to truly become The Indomitable Spider-Man.
In terms of my grander aspirations, I'm certainly starting Peter in the black suit for a reason. In time, the symbiote will come to tinge everything Peter touches. His life, his work, his villains, and especially those closest to him. This version of Spider-Man will eventually take heavy horror cues, showing a Spider-Man on the run from an encroaching array of symbiote-enhanced villains coming for his head, and secretly infecting those closest to him. Peter won't know who he can trust, and he needs to stay on his toes at every moment. He's just a kid that's been thrust into this terrifying body-horror situation with an alien being that has literally fused to his body, and this run will explore the consequences of that.
To be clear, these changes aren't made to have an angstier or edgier Peter, though there will be a sprig of that as is the nature of the symbiote. I want to tell a story about a struggling Peter, his family is sinking in debt under Hospital bills, he's unraveling the case of his Uncle's shooting while contesting a Police Department that refuses to work with him, all while dealing with the trials and tribulations of High School. This will be a story about Peter being pushed to his limitations and confronting them, a story about family and expectations, and above all else, a story about what Great Responsibility really means. He's going to make a lot of bad choices, and be thoroughly punished for them, to force him to truly become The Indomitable Spider-Man.
In terms of my grander aspirations, I'm certainly starting Peter in the black suit for a reason. In time, the symbiote will come to tinge everything Peter touches. His life, his work, his villains, and especially those closest to him. This version of Spider-Man will eventually take heavy horror cues, showing a Spider-Man on the run from an encroaching array of symbiote-enhanced villains coming for his head, and secretly infecting those closest to him. Peter won't know who he can trust, and he needs to stay on his toes at every moment. He's just a kid that's been thrust into this terrifying body-horror situation with an alien being that has literally fused to his body, and this run will explore the consequences of that.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Ben Parker: Peter's Uncle. Ben's always been a father figure to Peter, trying to instill him with his values, but still letting the kid be a kid. He's been one of the biggest enablers for Peter's love of science. He's currently paralyzed from the waist down, and needs a hell of a lot of rest.
May Parker: Peter's Aunt. The old lady's always been a little coddling for Peter's taste, but her heart's in the right place. She's been a greater partner to Ben and a great mother figure for Peter over the years, but she does occasionally have a tendency to clutch her pearls.
Gwen Stacy: One of Peter's closest friends in the world, and one of the most vocal supporters of Spider-Man, despite her Police Captain father's protests. Gwen's always been a science geek like him, but she ended up getting more into the arts and activism than he ever did. She's the drummer in MJ's band, The Mary Janes.
Mary Jane Watson: One of Peter's closest friends. She comes from a bad home, and she's got an anti-establishment streak a mile wide. Harry's girlfriend. Singer, Frontwoman, and Lead Guitarist of The Mary Janes.
Harry Osborn: Son of Norman Osborn and aspiring coder. He doesn't have the head for it, but he wants to make his Dad proud, and maybe use it to make games on the side or something. Also one of Peter's closest friends, although he can be brash at times, he's always right there when you need him.
Glory Grant: Guitarist of The Mary Janes. Peter isn't very close to her, but she's a friend to MJ and Gwen. She's got the skinny on Flash Thompson's whole deal, and Peter finds it entertaining to listen to every now and again.
Betty Brant: Bassist of The Mary Janes. Peter was never very close with her, but she's a friend to MJ and Gwen. She's very close with Glory. She doesn't seem it on the surface, but she's got a thing for Death Metal.
Flash Thompson: Six feet of raw muscle and not an ounce of sense to fill that head of his. He's the QB of the Midtown High Football team, which he thinks gives him the right to lord over everyone at the school. He tends to pick on Peter more than other kids, Peter thinks its because he still remembers the story of the time Flash pissed himself in the 6th grade.
Liz Allan: Never one of the smartest kids in school, but she's always been sweet with Peter. And a little flirty, too, but that's how she is to most guys... Right? Anyway, she's Flash's girlfriend, so Peter tries to keep his distance.
Doctor Curt Connors: One of Peter's idols, a brilliant geneticist, chemical engineer, and biologist working out of his labs at Empire State University. Peter and Gwen were lucky enough to score an internship with him.
Doctor Martha Connors: Lab assistant and wife to Curt Connors, but a brilliant geneticist in her own right.
Michael Morbius: Another assistant to the Connors. He can be a little pompous and arrogant, but he seems nice, overall.
J. Jonah Jameson: Local News editor at the Daily Bugle working his way to Editor-In-Chief. JJ hasn't caught wind of the Spider-Man yet, but Peter's more than seen some of his work in the papers; he seems at least a little competent.
May Parker: Peter's Aunt. The old lady's always been a little coddling for Peter's taste, but her heart's in the right place. She's been a greater partner to Ben and a great mother figure for Peter over the years, but she does occasionally have a tendency to clutch her pearls.
Gwen Stacy: One of Peter's closest friends in the world, and one of the most vocal supporters of Spider-Man, despite her Police Captain father's protests. Gwen's always been a science geek like him, but she ended up getting more into the arts and activism than he ever did. She's the drummer in MJ's band, The Mary Janes.
Mary Jane Watson: One of Peter's closest friends. She comes from a bad home, and she's got an anti-establishment streak a mile wide. Harry's girlfriend. Singer, Frontwoman, and Lead Guitarist of The Mary Janes.
Harry Osborn: Son of Norman Osborn and aspiring coder. He doesn't have the head for it, but he wants to make his Dad proud, and maybe use it to make games on the side or something. Also one of Peter's closest friends, although he can be brash at times, he's always right there when you need him.
Glory Grant: Guitarist of The Mary Janes. Peter isn't very close to her, but she's a friend to MJ and Gwen. She's got the skinny on Flash Thompson's whole deal, and Peter finds it entertaining to listen to every now and again.
Betty Brant: Bassist of The Mary Janes. Peter was never very close with her, but she's a friend to MJ and Gwen. She's very close with Glory. She doesn't seem it on the surface, but she's got a thing for Death Metal.
Flash Thompson: Six feet of raw muscle and not an ounce of sense to fill that head of his. He's the QB of the Midtown High Football team, which he thinks gives him the right to lord over everyone at the school. He tends to pick on Peter more than other kids, Peter thinks its because he still remembers the story of the time Flash pissed himself in the 6th grade.
Liz Allan: Never one of the smartest kids in school, but she's always been sweet with Peter. And a little flirty, too, but that's how she is to most guys... Right? Anyway, she's Flash's girlfriend, so Peter tries to keep his distance.
Doctor Curt Connors: One of Peter's idols, a brilliant geneticist, chemical engineer, and biologist working out of his labs at Empire State University. Peter and Gwen were lucky enough to score an internship with him.
Doctor Martha Connors: Lab assistant and wife to Curt Connors, but a brilliant geneticist in her own right.
Michael Morbius: Another assistant to the Connors. He can be a little pompous and arrogant, but he seems nice, overall.
J. Jonah Jameson: Local News editor at the Daily Bugle working his way to Editor-In-Chief. JJ hasn't caught wind of the Spider-Man yet, but Peter's more than seen some of his work in the papers; he seems at least a little competent.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Issue 0
New York City, NY
The gunshot knifed through the Autumn air. Above the traffic and the footsteps of millions, beyond sputtering tailpipes and screaming merchants, it was the one sound that rang in Peter Parker’s ears. Over and over and over again. He felt like he was small again, hearing the phone crash into the receiver as Aunt May staggered. Death.
It hit his heart before it his his brain, and he was running. His feet cracked against the pavement. He might’ve been leaving divots, he didn’t care, just pressing forward. The suit around him tightened, he felt it in the very fibers of his muscles, giving him the boost he needed. His vision was tunneled, but it didn’t matter. He was guided between passerby as if they weren’t there at all, the only evidence of his passing left in the explosions of his footfalls. The rest of his senses had singular focus.
The gunman’s footsteps were a cacophony, echoing through a hundred yards of pavement and reverberating with every cell in his body, even his stench filled Peter, sweat and adrenaline and blood and fear -- and it was getting farther and farther away. A football field. Two. The crowds were too much. Instantaneously, Peter’s legs coiled and he launched a half dozen meters in the air. A hand snapped forward and a webline pirouetted through the sky, snagging onto a flagpole.
His momentum carried him through the swing, he released and hung over the streets for a moment. It felt like an eternity, a spider hunting for his prey. There. Peter picked the ski mask out of the crowd, bobbing and weaving, waving a gun at anyone that didn’t move fast enough. Peter’s body compressed into a missile and he shot downward. At the last second he launched another web and pulled. He sailed down the street and hit the ground in a roll.
He was almost upon the gunman, now. If he listened close, he could hear the gunman’s panicked breathing. He was already haggard from running, like there were rocks in his lungs. Peter was low to the ground, and the concrete below him was a blur as he closed the distance. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten. The gunman rounded a corner.
A web hooked into the corner of a building and Peter pulled himself around at speed, and the gunman was gone. Thousands of faces swirled before him, all staring at the man with the white spider on his chest. A ski mask. One goddamn ski mask ripped off and freeing the bastard that shot...
“Damnit!” Peter’s fist lanced out and cleaved a hunk of brickwork from the corner. Passerby staggered back, screaming. His own voice came to him as if in a dream: What am I doing? Peter shook his head. Who… Who had been shot, anyway? It wasn’t… No. It couldn’t be.
His suit began to fade as he turned, running back from where he came. A superhuman’s sprint became a teenager’s jog, black boots warping back into hand-me-down converse. It couldn’t be, right? Just a dream he’d seen in the heat of the moment. That guy shot at someone, so he’d only imagine the worst, right?
Right?
There was a crowd gathered around the car. That wasn’t Ben’s car. It couldn’t be. It was a green Honda, but plenty of people drove those. And plenty of people had the Midtown High Student Achievement stickers on the back window. And more people than that had the ESU alumni bumper plates. And Ben’s sticker for Vets and May’s stupid fish thing and that license plate number and… Oh God.
“Move! Please!” Peter’s muscles felt like they were made out of jello, a tiny little creature in a crowd full of giants. A kid again. The people interlocked and swirled, cascading over one another in waves, not a one of them stepping forward to help.
“Please!” Peter was lost in their ocean, fighting to just get closer. He remembered that day, so many people, so many gifts that were supposed to make him feel better, Aunt May hugging herself by the fireplace while Ben bounced him up and down on his knee, over and over and over again. Ben’s face through the crowds just trying to pay their respects, someone else who really felt something. He couldn’t do it again. Not with Ben.
“It’s my Uncle! Let me through!” Finally he made his way, falling forward through the group. His powers were gone from him and a scraped knee ripped across his consciousness. He pushed himself to his feet and there he saw it. Uncle Ben.
He was slumped against the side of the car. The red was everywhere, pumping steadily out of a little hole in his abdomen. Both of his hands were pressed into the wound and he was tight-lipped. Peter couldn’t see tears. He just stared right through at the ground, his mind somewhere else, trying to think of some way through this.
“Ben?” Peter’s voice cracked.
“Peter.” Red rimmed eyes met his. Still, Ben smiled. Peter stumbled closer, both knees knocked hard against the pavement.
“Ben, Ben, it’sgonnabeokay Ben, I promise, I… I--” Ben’s hand came around his back and pulled him close. He was so warm.
“S’okay, Peter. S’okay.” Peter could feel the blood leaking onto his jeans, but he pulled himself closer to Ben, running his hands through his Uncle’s hair. No no no no no no... He could hear an ambulance now, piercing the noise of the crowd.
“Peter…” Ben’s hand found its way to his face, his thumb made slow circles over the boy’s cheek. Somehow he kept up that great big smile of his through the blood and the pain, but Peter saw the mask of death, twisted into macabre acceptance. Peter wouldn’t have it. Ambulance tires screeched, just yards away. The smell of the burning rubber hadn’t reached Peter’s nose before he was yelling.
“Hey! Hey!” The crowds were parting. “Help us! Please!” Maybe there was a chance. A hand tugged at his shirt. It was so weak. Ben’s eyes drifted, they couldn’t meet Peter’s.
“I love you Pete...” Ben started again. “You’re--You’re so--” Peter pulled Ben closer, he pumped his arms, trying to wave the crowd away, clear a path for the paramedics. They were so close.
“Save your strength… Please. They’re so… We’re so close… I can’t.” Peter swallowed. “Please.”
Ben stared back at him. His hand was stained red. Still pressed against his wounds. The paramedics were upon them now, and Peter was pushed away as they set to work, kneeling beside him.
Ben could only watch Peter was he was pulled away. Through the haze of encroaching darkness, all he saw was his nephew; fists curling, and a face twisted into some emotion Ben could not recognize in the boy.
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So the one thing I see is that since this is not a year one roleplay all those lovely side characters are open this time around. So this time I was thinking of perhaps doing a batgirl, though have her go a more of a solo route without getting too involved with Bat Inc. Course there could always be team ups but she will be much more her own vigilante.
mickilennial The Elder Fae
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So the one thing I see is that since this is not a year one roleplay all those lovely side characters are open this time around. So this time I was thinking of perhaps doing a batgirl, though have her go a more of a solo route without getting too involved with Bat Inc. Course there could always be team ups but she will be much more her own vigilante.
I might be curious of the idea. Might.
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Hillan I'm a writer - Lying's what we do.
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4 hrs ago
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Supermaxx dumbass
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C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
T H E X - M E N
♦ S C O T T S U M M E R S ♦ J E A N G R E Y ♦ H A N K M C C O Y ♦ K U R T W A G N E R ♦ B O B B Y D R A K E ♦
♦ X A V I E R S C H O O L F O R H I G H E R L E A R N I N G ♦ T H E X - M E N ♦
♦ X A V I E R S C H O O L F O R H I G H E R L E A R N I N G ♦ T H E X - M E N ♦
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
" Mutants. Since the discovery of their existence, they have been regarded with fear, suspicion, often hatred. Across the planet, debate rages. Are mutants the next link in the evolutionary chain or simply a new species of humanity fighting for their share of the world? Either way, it is a historical fact: Sharing the world has never been humanity's defining attribute."
The X-Men are a team of mutant superheroes that fight for the rights of mutants and to protect both mutants and humans alike. Led by Scott Summers -- AKA Cyclops -- and founded by Professor Charles Xavier, the X-Men are a newly christened team of young but fiery heroes looking to prove themselves to a cynical and bigoted world. They're based out of a manor in Worchester County, New York affectionately referred to as the 'X-Mansion,' an old estate that's been in the Xavier family for generations.
They've been in operation for a little over a year now, working from the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. It's little more than a simple mansion with a fancy title at the moment so that Charles has some excuse to live with his 'students.' Some moves have been made to potentially open its doors to other mutants in need, but they lack the proper facilities or staff to do such a thing.
In their short time as heroes, they've earned themselves a number of enemies. From the vengeful Magneto to the anti-mutant Senator Robert Kelly and the fire-and-brimstone preacher William Stryker and his cult of Purifiers. They've made plenty of friends in that time, too. Many a mutant has the X-Men to thank for saving them from some injustice. The X-Men have made something of a habit of rubbing shoulders with other, big time superheroes, hoping that their popularity might rub off on the team and help their perception in the public eye.
They've been in operation for a little over a year now, working from the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. It's little more than a simple mansion with a fancy title at the moment so that Charles has some excuse to live with his 'students.' Some moves have been made to potentially open its doors to other mutants in need, but they lack the proper facilities or staff to do such a thing.
In their short time as heroes, they've earned themselves a number of enemies. From the vengeful Magneto to the anti-mutant Senator Robert Kelly and the fire-and-brimstone preacher William Stryker and his cult of Purifiers. They've made plenty of friends in that time, too. Many a mutant has the X-Men to thank for saving them from some injustice. The X-Men have made something of a habit of rubbing shoulders with other, big time superheroes, hoping that their popularity might rub off on the team and help their perception in the public eye.
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
I want to create a cornerstone of the Absolute Comics universe. The X-Men often either don't show up at all or are pushed into a rather minor role in these games, and I intend to change that. Though we're starting from the beginning, the plan is to explore the world of mutants in the context of a combined DC/Marvel world and to bring about the creation of the proper Xavier's school, and perhaps even bring up a new age of mutants sometime in the future.
The X-Men and mutants as a whole experience a great deal of prejudice and bigotry for being born different. They're going to experience the full brunt of this xenophobia, from both the world at large and many individual characters alike. They'll face hardships no ordinary heroes will face, and they'll have to tackle problems unique to their being mutants.
The X-Men seek to bring about equality for mutant kind and to foster peace between mutant and humankind. Each of them has individual goals of their own, such as Jean's desire to control her abilities and leave her trauma behind her, or Bobby's goal of acceptance and camaraderie.
The X-Men and mutants as a whole experience a great deal of prejudice and bigotry for being born different. They're going to experience the full brunt of this xenophobia, from both the world at large and many individual characters alike. They'll face hardships no ordinary heroes will face, and they'll have to tackle problems unique to their being mutants.
The X-Men seek to bring about equality for mutant kind and to foster peace between mutant and humankind. Each of them has individual goals of their own, such as Jean's desire to control her abilities and leave her trauma behind her, or Bobby's goal of acceptance and camaraderie.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Scott Summers is the over-eager leader of the team. The oldest member at twenty years old, he was orphaned from a young age and spent all of his youth being abused in the system by peers and adults alike. The birth of his mutant powers brought him into local police custody and eventually into Charles's care at the age of sixteen, and he learned under the Professor with an earnest, idealistic passion. He cared deeply for his fellow mutants and often got into trouble trying to protect them from harm- his heroics were the first sign that perhaps something like the X-Men was viable.
It was Scott that brought Hank McCoy into the fold when he found the young, brilliant man being picked on, harassed and bullied by his peers for his appearance. He had a mind that could rival Xavier's even at only eighteen years old, and his great strength and agility were comparable to that of a simian. Hank was introduced to Xavier via Summers and, before long, Hank had accepted an invitation to join them at the manor. It was McCoy that created the first prototype of the ruby-red glasses that allow Scott to have some semblance of control over his powers, and it was his idea to use the mansion as a 'boarding school' of sorts as a cover if they were going to continue recruiting young mutants to their cause.
Jean Grey was later found in a coma, apparently having gotten into a car crash and mentally experienced the death of the car's driver- her best friend since middle school. Xavier was called in by the Grey family to lift the coma and protect Jean from her own mentalist abilities, which had taken on a dark nature after the traumatic event. Xavier convinced the Greys to let Jean join him at the 'boarding school' in Worchester so that she could learn how to more properly control her powers. At only eighteen years old, Jean was terrified of herself and these strange abilities. It was Scott that convinced her to work with the 'team,' persuading her into believing that it was the best and most productive way to learn how to control her mutant talents.
It was the rescue of Bobby Drake that marked the first official mission of the X-Men. Three costumed heroes appeared in his hometown of Floral Park, where an angry mob had chased the sixteen year old mutant into the police department, where the sheriff had barred the inside to keep the mob out. Bobby had frozen the local bully in a block of ice- whether by accident or on purpose, he couldn't say- and an angry group of citizens attempted to remove the threat themselves. The X-Men arrived. Their attempts to calm the rowdy masses quickly proved futile, and they were forced to push their way to the station. It was a dire situation, but it thankfully ended in Bobby's successful rescue, and he was returned to the safety of the school. Drake, without anyone else to turn to, decided to join the team.
Kurt Wagner is a German-American immigrant that found his way to Pennsylvania when he was just a boy. He had always faced discrimination due to his strange appearance, and his family had faced such intense mistreatment that they were forced to move homes across the state several times. Kurt, in his anguish, turned to religion, finding solstice and some comradery in the Catholic faith. He spent much of his time serving a local minister. It wasn't until puberty hit that his teleportation abilities appeared. His newfound mutation brought the hatred and distrust back to the forefront as he struggled to keep his powers in check. His family was attacked one night while they were returning home, and Kurt chose to run away to protect them from further danger. He was later found by Jean Grey hiding in the remains of a rundown church, and he was brought back to the Xavier school where he finally found acceptance.
Professor Xavier is a wheelchair-bound mutant telepath capable of tremendous and terrible feats of power. He's a genius in the field of genetics, specializing in mutants and the 'X-Gene' that gives them their superhuman abilities. He's written a number of scientific papers on the phenomena and taught at a number of universities on the subject, and while he's well-respected for his research, it's his civil rights activity that has earned him his true fame- and infamy- in the public eye. The fear and prejudice that mutants often face from their communities and in the world at large are disturbing to Charles, and he fights constantly to see these people protected from those that would see them harm. His movement brought him to the X-Men, a group of young adults and teenagers all looking to make a difference. Xavier brought them under his wing and gives them the tool they need to continue the fight. That fight is uphill, unfortunately, and in no small part due to the terrorist activities of his former friend turned nemesis, Erik Lehnsherr.
S A M P L E P O S T:
T H E X - M A N S I O N
8:00 a.m. | Salem Center, Worchester County, New York
Charles Xavier always felt a sense of satisfaction at the sound of chalk moving across a blackboard. Every stroke invigorated him like a shot of dopamine, and he found himself turning away from the board with a content grin on his aging face. "Genosha," the professor stated, tapping the name he'd just written in large, bold letters. "Does anyone know who first founded it?"
His question road like a wave across the makeshift classroom, which was little more than a sitting room with the chairs all turned to face forwards and a blackboard rolled in front of it all. Bobby Drake had made sure to occupy the furthest seat from the board, the hood of his jacket drawn down juuust far enough to hide his eyes as he tried to catch up on missing sleep. Movie night with Kurt had run a couple of hours too late. How was Drake supposed to know the marathon lasted that long? He regretted not checking the clock or something, 'cause being reminded by the sun coming up hadn't been very fun.
Kurt, to his credit, hadn't quite passed out yet. His head was resting in his palm, his three fingers running through the blueish fur on his cheek. His eyelids kept trying to clamp shut every few minutes, only for Wagner to lurch awake in a violent and distracting display that would keep him lucid for a couple of minutes before it all repeated again. If he ever tried to answer any questions it came out in unintelligible German.
Two pencils went soaring through the air like a pair of shurikens, one striking Kurt in the forehead and the second bouncing off of Bobby's nose. Both boys were thrown wide awake by the sudden attack, with Bobby nearly leaping out of his chair in surprise and Kurt vanishing and reappearing right back in his seat in a puff of black smoke. They shared a confused glance with one another seconds before realizing where the attack had come from, their heads turning simultaneously to glare in the direction of Scott Summers.
Scott crinkled his nose incredulously at them- even with his eyes hidden behind his crimson visor it wasn't hard to tell he was glaring. Sweat glistened off of the young man's forehead, still clinging to him after his long and exhaustive morning run. After making sure the two troublemakers were thoroughly and silently accosted for sleeping through the lesson he returned to looking in Xavier's direction, unable to muster an answer to the question. This was the first time they'd broached the subject of Genosha, and Scott wasn't too confident he'd be able to even point it out on a map.
The Professor pursed his lips, his eyes slipping between the three of his students as he seemed to contemplate how to deal with the brief interruption. The look lingered on Scott, giving the team's leader his own look of quiet admonishment before Xavier shifted his attention fully back to the lesson at hand. "Anyone?" Charles asked with a raised brow, "Hank?"
It wasn't until he heard his name that Hank McCoy even seemed to notice there was something going on around him. His pencil was rapidly shortening as he ran the tip of the graphite against his notebook full of crazy ideas and half-finished schematics. The current drawing before him was a series of functional upgrades to the team's costumes. Their current suits, aside from being a little tacky, didn't have any kind of temperature control, built-in communications, armor or other crucial parts to any superhero uniform. Hank blinked, pushing his nose up his glasses as he looked up to the Professor and then at the blackboard. "I'm sorry, uh, could you repeat the question?"
"He asked who founded Genosha," Jean Grey cut in before Charles got a chance, speaking in a very matter-of-fact tone as she looked down at her notes, "and you're gonna say the British first declared the colony in 1901, but there was actually activity from various colonial powers going as far back as the 16th century. And..." She stuck her tongue into her cheek, her brows furrowing a little. "Something about making the suits out of a carbon fiber mesh?" Jean leaned over from her seat and attempted to get a look at whatever it was Hank had been doodling on his notebook. "-Are you making us new costumes?" She asked curiously.
"Hey!" Hank practically tore the book off his lap and slapped it up against his sprawling chest. "No mind reading!" He huffed, clearly caught off guard at having his thoughts so casually spoken aloud for everyone to hear.
Bobby was out of his seat and leaning over the back of McCoy's chair as quick as the word 'costumes' had left Jean's mouth. He grabbed both of Hank's shoulders and attempted to drag himself up high enough to see the notebook in his big friend's hands. "We're getting new costumes?!" He inquired with an energetic excitement that had seemingly spawned from thin air. Kurt shared his enthusiasm, popping up on Hank's opposite shoulder in a puff of dark smoke and trying to leer down at the page. Hank didn't take well to the intrusion, trying to buck the duo off and keep the sketches hidden against his chest at the same time.
Jean's face grew beet red the instant she realized what she had done. "I- I didn't- I mean, it wasn't on purpose-" She stumbled and stuttered, retreating behind her red locks as she bent her head low in shame at her actions. Reading minds came to her as easily as actual hearing did. It was hard for her to decipher what were thoughts and what were words, and sometimes it all got so jumbled that she got her own thoughts mixed up with someone else's. "I'm sorry." She muttered.
Hank, still busy wrestling Bobby and Kurt into submission, paused long enough to listen and reply. "Its okay." He assured her. "I'm not- hey!" He started, only to be interrupted by Kurt slipping underneath one of his arms and getting a hold of the notebook.
Nightcrawler slipped right away from the beast of a man's grip, vanishing out of the classroom and appearing in the hallway. He held the picture up in the light, a bright grin spreading across his face. "I look awesome!" He laughed.
"Lemme see!" Drake whined, jumping over chairs and racing over to catch up to Wagner. "When do I get to wear mine?!"
Hank, hot on Bobby's heels and having completely forgotten what he was going to say to Jean, was quick to shout after them. "Its just a drawing! We aren't even in the prototype phase!"
The lesson thoroughly disrupted and Jean left in her silent shame, Charles let out a quiet sigh. Kids, he thought with a shake of his head. No matter what kind of amazing gifts they might have, it was hard to forget that these five were still all children at heart. He placed the chalk back down on the tray and moved his hands onto the wheels of his chair, planning to go to miss Grey, as he had many times before. But he paused, not all that surprised to see that Summers had already moved to her side. He had a hand around her shoulder and he was trying to say something that might've been vaguely wise had the boy any idea how to say it. It brought a smile to Charles's face.
"Come on back, my students, there'll be plenty of time for that later! Our lesson's only just begun." Xavier called out to the wrestling trio in the hallway. They all seemed to look at each other and hold and a wordless conversation for a few seconds before deciding to call a ceasefire and return back to their seats. They spent a little while putting everything back where it was before and getting themselves seated, but their attention was eventually given back to the professor. Even if they bickered, fought or messed up in some fashion, they always seemed to land back on their feet. Always seemed to orientate themselves to point north again, even if it did take a bit of time. Charles let his hands come to rest on his lap as he waited a moment, making sure everyone was ready before he continued. "So, as Jean said, Genosha was founded in..."
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EldarionI Future King of Arnor
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9 mos ago
I'd love to be a part of this but my experience with large groups isn't great, put me down as a definite maybe :)
unicorgi I don’t have discord
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5 yrs ago
If it helps it doesn’t seem like a huge amount of character interaction is going to happen.
OP
Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat
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2 hrs ago
If it helps it doesn’t seem like a huge amount of character interaction is going to happen.
That's not necessarily true. Players are encouraged to put together stories as outlined under 'Crossovers' but ideally every concept and by extension player should also be able to stand on their own.
mickilennial The Elder Fae
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0-24 hrs ago
Ain't just fanfiction, folks.
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Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat
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2 hrs ago
This is the last major RP some of us did in this style. And whike I've tweaked a few things to put my own spin on it, this IC is more or less how most of the returning players are hoping and expecting things to go.
Hopefully that helps for some of you.
Hopefully that helps for some of you.
EldarionI Future King of Arnor
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9 mos ago
Slightly worried this is way out of my league :/
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OP
Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat
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2 hrs ago
Slightly worried this is way out of my league :/
The only thing you can do is try and if you feel overwhelmed or anxious at any time, by no means will we force you to stay or make you feel bad for leaving. Leaving your comfort zone while difficult is generally for the best.
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EldarionI Future King of Arnor
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9 mos ago
I'll do it then 😁 I'll think of a character to use and get back to you :)
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