Sep is denied because he double posted

:'(

@Rabidporcupine I think with the starting position of Spider-Man in this game anything involving symbiotes is probably very much unviable as it stands, unless you negotiate or work out an alternative.

Now, now, let's not make this yet another game where we dogpile on @Sep.

Let's save that for the mid-season.

As if Sep will still be around mid-season.

As if either of you will be around midseason.

As if either of you will be around midseason.

Someone's gotta fix the reputation of Cap being a murderer.

<Snipped quote by webboysurf>

Someone's gotta fix the reputation of Cap being a murderer.

The perfect job for...Frank Castle?

As if Sep will still be around mid-season.

Atleast I've made it a season before.

We really throwing bombs over here.

<Snipped quote by Retired>

The perfect job for...Frank Castle?

Well, yeah. If the new Cap kills 1000 guys then the old cap killing one won't seem as bad.

<Snipped quote by Retired>

Atleast I've made it a season before.

At least I know "atleast" isn't a word.

Sure it is.

When it comes to the aquatic based characters; Namor is the atmost, whilst Aquaman is the Atleast.

Or when discussing Greek lore...

My back really hurts, but Atleast it's only the whole world and not the entire universe.

<Snipped quote by HenryJonesJr>
Well, yeah. If the new Cap kills 1000 guys then the old cap killing one won't seem as bad.

<Snipped quote by Sep>
At least I know "atleast" isn't a word.

At the very least then.

Come at me when you complete a story arc.

So I'm going to do something I haven't done in a very long time.

Second character(s)

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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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:

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I want to tag up on a lot of the same themes and ideas I used during my last Constantine run a few games ago. The power of cities, the ghosts and memories that coexist together to give a place its sense of being. In addition to that, I just like the idea of supernatural cops and tackling the macabre history of cities.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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S A M P L E P O S T:

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Park Row
Gotham City
1877

“I command any spirits here among us to make their presence known.”

Gerturde Dixon said the line like she had thousands of times before. The rest of the guests around her séance table kept their eyes tightly shut, but not Gertrude’s. Her eyes cut through the dim candlelight to look at the half-dozen people holding hands around her table. They were the usual sort that always came to her parties: the idle rich who had more money than sense. The were bored with what the physical world had to offer, so they sought out answers in the mystical realm. And because they could afford her prices, they always came to the First Lady of American Spiritualism herself.

“Can you feel it?” she asked the gathering. “Something in the air…a scent.”

Gertrude pressed a small pedal underneath the table. The pedal and the pneumatic hose attached to it ran under the floorboards and behind the walls of her parlor. Hidden nozzles throughout the room sprayed perfume into the air.

“Lilacs,” one of the women in the group said. A tear started to run down her cheek as she began to open her eyes. “My mother’s--”

“Keep your eyes shut,” Gertrude snapped. “I implore you, keep your eyes shut and focus your mental energy on the task at hand!”

She pressed another pedal. A metal rod slowly pushed out of a floorboard compartment and stopped just short of striking underneath the table.

“If there are spirits here, I command you to give us a sign.”

Gerturde tapped the pedal again. The metal bar thumped hard against the table and made it rattle. Her guests all opened their eyes, taken aback at the sight.

“Keep your eyes shut!”

Before Getrude could continue, the séance table shook again. Her next line died in her mouth as the table continued to shake and rattle. She wasn’t doing this. The guests all recoiled back when the table started to levitate. Gertude herself fought the urge to scream in shock.

For almost forty years she’d been pulling the spiritual medium grift on rubes like the ones before her. It was the only way to get out of the hoochie coochie show at the carnival she grew up in. If she could make a buck and not have to show her tits or touch any yokel’s prick then she was all for it. But in all that time, she had never seen anything like this. Stunned, Gertude tried to speak. Instead of her own voice, however, something harsh and sounding like breaking glass came from her throat.

“Gotham City is cursed,” the strange rasped to the guests. “Poisoned by shadow. It can't possibly survive…”

Gertrude reached for her throat. Her weathered hands gripped it, but she realized that she had no control over what they were doing. She gasped for breath and collapsed from the chair as her own hands strangled her to death.

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Arclight Theatre
Gotham City
1932

"Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to witness the Great Gigante's most fantastic escape yet!"

The MC stood at the edge of the stage and beamed at the audience. Behind him, a curtain had been drawn in front of the Great Gigante. The master escape artist had been secured in a straitjacket before being dangled over a vat of starving piranhas. If he didn't free himself within thirty seconds, the chain holding him above the water would detach and drop him into the vat.

After thirty seconds, the chain detached with a loud crash. The crowd gasped n shock, but the MC was confident. Gigante had done this trick so many times he could do it in his sleep. The MC had seen it with his own eyes earlier today. Gigante kept a bobby-pin embedded in his cheek. When the curtain came down, he'd use it to unlock the first series of locks that kept his hands in place. With his hands, it would be child's play for Gigante to dismantle the other locks and swing free before the chain dropped.

"Behold!" the MC announced as the curtain dropped.

The gasps turned to screams. The vat of water was now filled with cloudy red water. Clamped tightly to the edge of the vat was Gigante's severed hands. Written on the tank, in the dead escapeologist's own blood, were the words:

GOTHAM CITY IS CURSED
POISONED BY SHADOW
IT CAN'T POSSIBLY SURVIVE

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The Bowery
Gotham City
2019

"TORK!"

Drake shouted at the top of her lungs as she grabbed Tork by the sleeve. He tried to speak, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. His legs wouldn't work, even though he was screaming in his mind for them to start fucking moving. Standing less than ten feet in front of him... was an honest to god werewolf. It was over seven feet tall on its hind legs with razor sharp claws and teeth that looked like they could punch a hole in the side of an armored car.

The werewolf tilted its head to the sky and howled across the night. That snapped Tork's mind into action.

"RUN!" He shouted.

He and Drake booked it through the alley. The werewolf howled again and started to give chase. Tork knew they couldn't out run this monster. Even now he could hear the scrape of its claws on the asphalt and hear the rasps of its breath as it beared down upon them.

"Duck!" a voice shouted at the mouth of the alley.

There was Sister Justine standing at the entrance of the alley. Clamped in her withered hands was a shotgun. Even though Tork was running for his life, he couldn't help but notice the ornate designs on the gun barrel. Carvings of roses and words in Latin. Tork and Drake fell to the ground as Justine fired. The werewolf howled in pain as the blast caught him flush in the chest and face. It crumpled to the ground whining. Tork got to his feet, his legs shaking.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Tork yelled. He pointed a finger back at the monster "What the hell is that?"

"The Park Row Slasher," said Sister Justine. "And watch your blaspheming, Francis."

"Did you not hear us mention several times we were dealing with a werewolf?" Drake asked. She leveled her pistol at the wounded wolf was she spoke.

"I thought you were taking poetic license! I didn't know you meant a literal fucking werewolf!"

"This is what we do, sergeant," said Drake. "We fight werewolves, witches, and the occult. If it's spooky and bad, we're against it."

"Gotham City is cursed," said Sister Justine. "Poisoned by shadow. It can't possibly survive--"

They all turned as they heard the werewolf stir and growl. Sister Justine stepped forward and racked another round into the shotgun chamber.

"It can't possibly survive... without protection."

That's certainly something.

<Snipped quote by Retired>

The perfect job for...Frank Castle?

We sure someone hasn't fucked with the timeline?

Question and Green Arrow are approved.

So my Thor CS appears to have disappeared. So I guess I'll just leave this here.

So, I came back for the dead to leave this oldie here.

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man, why can't i decide on ONE character? WHY?!

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So, I came back for the dead to leave this oldie here.

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man, why can't i decide on ONE character? WHY?!

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What Oldie? This one?

<Snipped quote by Mao Mao>

What Oldie? This one?

I-I don't know what this proves. I have no clue what you are-