AndyC

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

Well, shit.

Plan B it is, then.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

W O N D E R W O M A N

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^{_{Diana Prince ♦ Antiquities Dealer ♦ Gateway City, California, United States ♦ Independent}}

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

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^{"Tell your gods they need to try harder."}

The world of mortal men is not the only world there is. Beyond the veil, beyond the realms of matter and energy and immutable laws of physics, there is one which shapes and is shaped by the dreams and beliefs of mortals. It does not exist, yet it always has and always will. It is a million contradictory heavens and hells all at once, each one a ridiculous myth or superstition, yet also an unquestionable truth. It is the Godsphere, the realm of every High Father, every Dark Lord, every Earth-Mother and Warbringer that ever has or ever will be imagined.

For millennia, the Godsphere and the Mortal World have been separate, as man’s stronger understanding of his own domain has weakened the need for gods or magic, the man-made light of science driving the monsters and devils into the aether. And as for those monsters who are not content to slink away into the shadowy realm of bad dreams and forgotten legend, well…...that is where I come in.

In the world between worlds, there are all manner of entities that are more than man, but less than god. In Greek, they were called daimon-- an term which evolved over centuries into the later ‘daemon’ and modern ‘demon,’ but originally meant any spirit or monster, angel or devil, giant or demigod regardless of their morality. These daimon are at least partly of the mortal world, and were not banished as easily as the Gods by the discovery of fire or the development of philosophy. Many are the sustained form of old magic, curses that live on over hundreds or thousands of years. Many contain the blood of old gods, direct descendants of Olympus or Asgard or Sheol. As the power of the Godsphere diminishes in the Mortal World, the remaining daimon have learned to live in secret, only revealing themselves to each other, before fighting to the death for a relic or temple or other scrap of godly power.

Once, the Amazons of Themyscira -- a people who now never existed, on an island that can never be found-- acted as protectors of mortal men from hostile daimon. They slew monsters, dueled with devils, cast out ghosts and spurned evil gods. As they faded from the world, they chose to entrust their knowledge and power into a single warrior, until the time came when the rift between the Mortal World and the Godsphere could be healed. A grand tournament was held, sister fighting sister, until much to everyone’s surprise, the victor emerged: the Queen’s frail, sickly daughter.

I was only twelve when my mother placed the tiara on my head, adorned me with the finest armor and weapons the Amazons had ever made, and vanished into myth. I knew one day, I would see them again, when gods and men could once again share a world in harmony. It would not be easy, it would not be a short journey. At the time, I expected it to take ten, perhaps twenty years. Certainly not more than twenty-five.

It has been nearly three thousand.

And yet, I continue. I preserve what knowledge of the Gods that I can, protect the daimon who mean no harm, and put down those who do. The Mortal World has changed so much, but my quest has not. I am Diana, last Champion of the Amazons. And I am a protector of worlds.

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’ve played different versions of Diana in the past, and while I enjoyed them, I never really felt like I got her ‘right,’ which is something I’m determined to do this time. I want to capture the spirit of an adventurous, mythical heroine embarking on globe-trotting adventures, dueling with other immortals over ancient relics, like a cross between Indiana Jones and Highlander, with a dash or two of Samurai Jack. I feel like this particular take can be as close to a “definitive” Wonder Woman as I can get without just photocopying the movie.

This version would also allow her to expand Diana’s usually lackluster rogue’s gallery beyond merely the Greek pantheon. Sure, she’ll fight Medusas and Harpies and Minotaurs and stuff, but she can also take on spirits and monsters from all over the world, and have fights and long-standing histories with other supernatural/mythical characters, like Black Adam or Shining Knight.

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

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Gateway City

Founded in the early 1800s by an often-overlooked explorer named Gal Carter, Gateway City is one of the smaller metropolitan areas on the Pacific Coast, notable mostly for its beautiful classical architecture. Sometimes referred to as the “Athens of the West,” the city boasts a gorgeous park featuring statues of great heroes from all over the world, and a Museum of Antiquities that rivals the Smithsonian and the Louvre. As with any city, Gateway has its criminal elements, its rough neighborhoods and seedy underbelly, but they are nowhere near as pronounced as places like Gotham, or even the nearby Star and Coast Cities.

Diana Prince

An aspiring historical scholar, Diana is currently working on her Doctorate in Classical Art, while working as a traveling collector and dealer for the Museum of Antiquities. Her work takes her all around the world, finding and procuring relics and great works of art for the museum. She is friendly and outgoing, though maybe a bit overly formal and flaky, and has very few if any close friends.

Barbara Ann Minerva

A fellow scholar and collector for the Museum of Antiquities, Barbara Ann is the only person who considers Diana to be her friend-- though perhaps, friendly rival is more appropriate. The two have been competing for the past three years, trying to be the one who brings in the biggest finds, the rarest treasures. While she keeps this competition lighthearted on the surface, repeatedly coming up short to Diana has started to eat at Barbara Ann, and it is pushing her to further and further extremes to be the best.

Etta Candy

Gateway City’s Chief of Police, Etta is a no-nonsense, by-the-book upholder of law and order. She has little patience for theatrics, and does not like the idea of people--even extraordinary ones-- taking the law into their own hands in her town. She’s known for having a biting sense of humor, and a notorious sweet tooth-- while most ‘hard-boiled’ cops will find their vice in booze and cigars, hers is sugary snacks, which sees her spending more time than most in the gym to make up for it.

Veronica Cale

The founding partner of Cale-Anderson Pharmaceuticals, Veronica became sole proprietor and CEO of the multi-billion-dollar firm after her co-founder and friend Leslie Anderson was killed in a sudden and tragic car accident. Since then, Cale has leveraged her company’s influence across the West Coast, not just in the development of commercial medicines, but in experimental genetic engineering and (according to unfounded rumors) biological weapons for the military. On the surface, Cale is a philanthropist and proponent of women’s rights, especially in the scientific fields. Behind this, however, is a narcissism that borders on delusion, and a lust for power that has left more than a few mysterious disappearances in her wake.

Doris Zeul

An undefeated MMA fighter with seemingly superhuman strength, Doris “Giganta” Zeul was unceremoniously blackballed from every legitimate fighting organization in the world after killing an opponent in the ring. Rather than show any sort of remorse for her unnecessary brutality, she instead took up work as a personal bodyguard and enforcer for Veronica Cale. When not on assignment, Doris still entertains herself as a fighter, though now as part of an underground bloodsport circuit where the rules-- and the regard for human life-- are much less strict.

More to come as the plot develops.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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"I'm offering you one chance," I call out into the dark. "You can leave this place, now, and vow to never prey on the innocent again, and I will show mercy. I offer this chance only once."

The trees rustle with motion, before mad cackling laughter fills the air.

"Foolish girl," a raspy voice hisses from the shadows. "We will not be denied our prey tonight. We will slake our thirst. This one's blood belongs to us."

The UN ambassador cowering behind me is one of the most influential forces behind the upcoming Pan-Asian Trade Agreement, responsible for opening up several blocks of the continent to hundreds of billions of dollars in business opportunities over the next ten years. He is also turning white with fear, letting out a terrified yelp as he nearly trips over the drained corpse of one of his bodyguards.

"M-m-m-my blood?" he stammers, hunching his shoulders and tucking in his chin to cover his neck. "Wh-what are they? Vampires?!"

I glance to him over my shoulder and scoff.

"Unlikely," I tell him, "I killed the last of the Romainian Stigoi nearly a century and a half ago." I had thanked and paid Mr. Stoker handsomely to discreetly edit my part in events out of his novel.

The trees rustle again. The sound of chittering laughter, the hungry smacking of lips.

"I believe we are dealing with a kind of yokai," I tell him as I draw my sword, the leaf-shaped blade of the Amazonian xyphos glittering in near total darkness as if it were broad daylight. "Specifically, a flock of nukekubi. Keep your head down-- this may be....unpleasant. Especially if I cannot find the bodies quickly."

"Give us our prey, foolish girl!" the yokai demands. "You do not know the kind of monsters you face this night."

I cannot help but smirk. Every creature I have ever encountered believes they are the supreme terror of the world, right until the moment they are cut down.

There is a shriek, a snarl, and the flapping of wings-- or rather, the flapping of ears-- as a dozen flying severed heads erupt from the trees, each of them baring a mouth full of jagged pointed fangs, long slavering tongues, and eyes full of burning hate.

"And you," I tell them as I sink into a fighting stance, sword and shield at the ready, "Do not know the kind of things I do to monsters like you."

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

I added a new blurb to my Superman application, detailing a few tweaks, caveats, and clarifications about this version of Clark's powers. Obviously, it won't mean a whole lot if I don't win the contest for the cape, but assuming I do, it should be useful to anyone who might want to have a run-in or pick up a supporting \S/-character later on.

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

Tuesday can't get here soon enough; my brain keeps scrambling back and forth between plots I have in mind for Clark, and ideas for two different secondary characters I've got in mind in case someone else gets him and I need a backup.

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

@AndyC I'd say let the best man win but that would mean I'd be rooting for you. Good luck.

@Retired

Don't sell yourself short; your CS is some good shizz.

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

Only Byrd could say "I think playing cowboys and meth-heads is too ambitious for me. I'd better settle for playing the Devil himself instead."

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

S U P E R M A N

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^{_{Clark Joseph Kent ♦ Freelance Journalist ♦ Metropolis, Delaware, USA ♦ Independent}}

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

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^{"I do what I can, same as anyone else. I can just do a little more."}

The town of Smallville, Kansas, appears by all rights to be the sort of down-home, Mom-and-Pop, baseball-and-apple-pie image of classic Americana that more cynical folk might sneer at as they pass by to a ‘real’ city. Earnest, simple men and women who might have had big dreams once, but settled for marrying their high-school sweethearts, having an average of 1.5 kids, and enjoying the small things like a cold beer after a hard day’s work. The kind of wholesome, almost corny sort of town that anyone who’s been out in the world assumes the worst of-- that big friendly Billy-Bob secretly beats his wife, that the good old boys at the general store have white robes stashed away in their closet, and that kindly Father Brown shouldn’t be left unattended around children. And those cynical, sneering, worldly people would be half-right: Smallville does indeed keep some very big secrets. But not the kind they would ever imagine…..

It was a warm night in April of 1995 when Jonathan and Martha Kent’s truck broke down on their way back home from the doctor’s office, where they had been told Martha was infertile, and their dreams of starting a family had been dashed. It was almost a bit of mercy that a blown tire let Jon get some time by himself, where he could work with his hands and straighten out his thoughts before he said something he would regret. There had already been words, implications, insinuations, and tears, but while they never shouted or accused, the silence in the truck’s cab told both of them that their marriage was as good as over. As Martha stared into the night sky, she quietly demanded the stars justify themselves, asking fate or God or whatever was out there what the point of it all was. And the stars, or fate or God or whatever was out there, provided an answer in a flash of light that nearly blinded them both, followed by a blast of wind that knocked Jon off his feet.

For the next two or three years, the people of Smallville found themselves bombarded by visitors poking around, asking questions. Federal agents just wondering if they had noticed any suspicious activities lately, land surveyors who suddenly had a great amount of interest in soil samples, census takers going door-to-door just to be sure there weren’t any mishaps in the last population count. And of course, tabloid reporters and internet crackpots who had the honesty to come out and ask directly if anyone knew anything about the mysterious “Kansas Lights” that had illuminated the sky over Smallville that one April night. The good people of Smallville all said the same things. Nothing strange happens in a place like this. The “Kansas Lights” were probably some kids who had gotten their hands on fireworks, and everyone was making a big fuss over nothing. And they all remember visiting Jon and Martha in the hospital when their baby boy Clark was born-- the papers must have been lost in the hospital records somewhere.

Time passed, and the people of Smallville moved on, suspicion giving way to complacency and eventually indifference. Clark Kent was a nice boy, after all, just a little odd. He kept to himself mostly, never played with the other kids, would either go straight home from school or spend his free time in the library. He was smart enough, did well in class, but always came off a bit….puny, and shy. While nobody ever talked about it, everyone knew he was different, and Clark started to take that personally.

Throughout his childhood, Clark was never content. His parents were wonderful to him, provided the best life for him that they could, but most nights he found himself staring out at the stars…..even when he was inside with a roof over his head. He saw how the grown-ups looked at him, how they kept him at arm’s length and whispered when he thought they couldn’t hear him. When he asked his parents about it, Jon consoled him, saying “They’ll understand some day. When you’re older, and when….well, when you learn to become who you are.”

Pete Ross had been his best friend ever since Clark had saved him from drowning in the river, and Lana Lang from the farm nearby had known him so long that most of the town assumed they would be married the second they were both eighteen, but even they could only see the bits and pieces of Clark’s life that he wasn’t afraid to tell them about. He couldn’t tell them about the time he bolted out into the road to save the family dog from an oncoming eighteen-wheeler, went under the wheels, and came back up without a scratch. He couldn’t tell them about the time a jack slipped out from under the tractor as Pa was working underneath it, and Clark held the whole thing up with his bare hands. Or how he knew Ronnie Marsh had robbed the corner convenience store because he could just look right through his ski mask. Or how when Clark found out that Lana’s father had abused her, his clothes caught on fire when Clark stared at him.

Or how one night, when no one was looking, he snuck out into the back field and jumped so high that he didn’t come back down.

As a teenager, Clark’s introversion and isolation gave way to a restless energy, an ever-more-powerful need to go out, to go to exotic places, see and do incredible things, find a place where he belonged. He became a dreamer, in more ways than one. In his sleep, he saw incredible visions-- a world far from home, full of men and women who worked miracles like they were nothing, who braved impossible odds and stared down evil with a confident smile, garbed in striking skin-tight blue suits with bright red capes, emblazoned with a shield and a curving sigil that looked for all the world like the letter ‘S.’ A world where he could truly be himself, and finally belong.

The power of these images, the yearning to be like the incredible people of his dreams, clashed with the mundanity of Smallville more and more with each passing year, until just after his high school graduation. In the summer of 2013, a massive tornado ripped through the heart of Smallville, threatening to destroy the town and everyone in it. Jon and Martha had urged Clark to stay inside, to keep his secret safe while they went out into the storm to get people to safety. When he saw their truck overturn, he couldn’t restrain himself any longer, and quite literally flew into action. Righting the truck was just the start, as Clark became a blur of motion, catching a child who had been picked up by the wind, holding up a collapsing church roof, shielding a family from a derailed train car. For the better part of an hour, in full view of the town, Clark Kent fought the very forces of nature itself, and by all accounts, he won.

Still, when the storm finally broke and the dust settled, no one would look Clark in the eye. He had saved their lives, but what he had done was….unnatural. He had reminded them of those inexplicable lights in the sky all those years ago. He’d shown them that the nice quiet boy from the Kent Farm wasn’t one of them. Maybe he was some kind of experiment from the Army. Maybe he was an angel, or a devil. Either way, he had shown them that he didn’t belong.

The next day, Clark was gone, hitchhiking down the open road, looking for a purpose and a place to belong. In his search for the truth about himself, he became fascinated in learning the truth about the rest of the world as well, leading him to take up journalism. He would enroll in a class here and there, eventually gathering enough credits to earn a Bachelor’s Degree, but he got the most experience in the field, finding places where he could put his abilities to use, reporting on the human side of the story while being careful to avoid his own role in events. Still, others were all too eager to follow rumors about some mysterious “Angel in Blue Jeans” who would show up out of the blue to rescue survivors from natural disasters or pick a fist-fight with heavily armed warlords, only to disappear just as abruptly as he arrived. In particular, a pair of freelancers always seemed right on Clark’s heels, forcing him to take increasingly drastic steps to keep his secrets: an excitable but talented photographer named Jimmy Olsen, and a tenacious investigative reporter named Lois Lane.

After seven years of wandering, Clark returned to Smallville when he learned his father had developed a malignant tumor and had only months to live. Over those months, Jon and Clark connected again, the old man imparting as much wisdom as he could while fighting the disease as long as he could. Martha talked to her son about his visions and dreams of those incredible people in bright red capes, and about how those bright red capes just happen to sound an awful lot like the blanket he had been wrapped in the night they found him. When Jon’s body finally failed him, the last words he said to Clark were “you’ve got to do the hardest thing anyone can ever do….you’ve got to become who you are.”

Clark Kent is now twenty-five years old, and has landed a job interview at a newspaper in Metropolis. He has packed everything he owns into a suitcase and a backpack, including the old red “blanket” his mother had been keeping in the old linen closet, and an outfit the two of them had put together to go with it. He has no friends in the city, no plan to fall back on if he blows it, and no idea where he’s going to sleep at night. But he cannot hide his excitement, or his eagerness as he fidgets with nervous energy in the seat of a cross-country bus.

He is not one of us. He does not belong here. But he knows he has a purpose. And he is ready to become who he is.

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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Anyone who knows me knows I’ve got some very strong feelings and opinions about Superman- he is, without question, the one character I have spent more time and thought and energy on than anyone else in all of fiction. And while doing the seven trillionth origin story might be a bit tiresome, I want to present a ‘Year One’ Clark without all of the worn-out clichés that so many tellings of the story run into: people just telling Clark that he’s the proverbial Chosen One and has a special destiny and yadda yadda yadda. Clark knows he’s different, he has a vague idea of the kind of person he wants to be, but right now he’s got no idea how to get there, and is going to be making things up as he goes. This will likely be a version of Superman who’s a little more rough around the edges-- not for the sake of being ‘edgy’ or turning a wholesome kids’ character into a radical anti-hero, but just to reflect where he’s at in his life, a young man full of piss and vinegar as they say, with a head full of big ideas and no real plan to see them through.

To this end, this version of Clark doesn’t have the Fortress of Solitude or his computer-ghost-father, no knowledge of Krypton except for half-remembered dreams. Any “destiny” he has is one he forges for himself, the identity of Superman and the meaning of the S symbol are things he will create over time. His journey of self-discovery will be more about creating a purpose rather than finding one.

All that, however, is the top-down overarching “big idea” journey. In practice, I want to tell energetic and fun stories with intrigue, romance, frightening villains, and kick-ass action, while leaving the door open for team-ups and crossovers with other players-- after all, Clark can’t exactly “find his place” in the world if he’s not interacting with the other people in it. While Superman is many things to many people-- a comfortable nostalgia act, an inspiring role-model, a secular stand-in for God or Jesus or Your Dad or whatever-- he is first and foremost, above all else, an Action-Adventure Hero. And I plan for Clark’s journey to “become who he is” to be full of action, adventure, and heroics.

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

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Powers and Abilities

At first glance, Clark's powers are the same suite of abilities everyone is familiar with: super-strength and speed, invulnerability, enhanced senses, Heat Vision, etc. However, there are some tweaks and caveats that will come into play.

First and perhaps most importantly, Superman does not get his powers from yellow sunlight. Instead, every cell in his body effectively works as a microscopic fusion reactor, which when working at regular capacity, allows him roughly the same level of strength, speed, and durability seen in both the Animated Series and the DCEU-- able to lift an ocean liner, but not a planet; able to take hits from conventional weapons without flinching, but high explosives or energy weapons will knock him around.

His muscles, when contracting, generate gravitational fields which are not only responsible for his flight and invulnerability (as well as tactile kinesis to keep the things he's lifting from buckling under their own weight), but also justify him actually needing to be physically buff. With concentration, he can effectively turn his powers "off" to train his body, which can then generate stronger gravity fields afterward.

He can tap into greater reserves of power with effort and concentration, but doing so will leave his body sapped-- in theory, he could have the same level of raw physical power he wielded in the Silver Age or the higher-end Post-Crisis eras for a minute or two, but that would leave him effectively powerless for a day or more afterward. While yes, I know this basically gives him a 'Super Saiyan' form, I think it also adds a risk-vs-reward nature to his powers, where sure, he could push the moon out of orbit if he wants, but then he's a sitting duck for anyone who wants to take a shot at him afterwards.

In addition, while Clark possesses super-speed, having equally superior reaction time is something he can only do with concentration, meaning unless he is actively looking and listening for trouble, it is entirely possible to get the proverbial drop on him. Mentally, he is of above-average intelligence, certainly smart and clever, and possesses a photographic memory, but is not in the realm of genius. He's not dumb by any means, but he can be outsmarted or tricked by someone higher up on the intellectual food chain.

These changes are intended to allow villains and other player-characters the ability to threaten Superman or succeed where he fails, while also allowing him access to the insane levels of power expected of the character. It should also give him more visible and tangible signs of progression as he grows with experience.

Clark Kent

Clark is a friendly, well-meaning, dependable guy, the kind who might not be the first you call when you want to go out for drinks, but the first you call when you need to move your couch. He tends not to draw attention to himself, and always seems a little slow on the uptake when it comes to popular trends. Despite wanting to pursue a career that requires near constant access to the flow of information, he has no social media presence, virtually no trace of him on the internet, seems to pay for everything with cash, and doesn’t even have a driver’s license. Still, he seems to get by well enough, taking on odd jobs to make ends meet while trying to cut his teeth as a reporter in the big city.

Lois Lane

Lois Lane is perhaps the most feared independent journalist on the planet, breaking stories that have brought down crooked CEOs, exposed organized crime syndicates, and ousted world leaders. This has made her no shortage of enemies, having been banned from virtually every social media platform and publisher in the country-- the majority of which are owned by the likes of Maxwell Lord and Lex Luthor. Despite being persona non grata among the political and corporate elite, Lois’s site nonetheless has an audience of millions, and such a following has landed her a home at the one old-fashioned news outlet she respects: the Daily Planet.

Lois is an idealist at heart, and honest to the point of being cruelly blunt. She has a fierce independent streak, a dogged determination to discover and report the truth, a fast and laconic sense of humor, an intense hatred of bullies, and little patience for anyone who can’t keep up.

Jimmy Olsen

Jimmy is a rich kid who inherited his parents’ enormous wealth and, in another life, likely would have squandered it all on parties and drugs. However, he instead picked up a knack for photography, and somehow got roped into the whirlwind of controversy and globe-trotting adventure that is the life of Lois Lane. He shares Lois’s idealism to an extent, but mostly tags along and bankrolls her exploits because he’s become something of an adrenaline junkie. He’s been in warzones, covered riots, and even met Kanye once-- something he will never shut up about. Jimmy believes he has the coolest job in the world, which makes him the coolest person in the world.

When he’s not dodging bullets or chasing celebrities, Jimmy is a pop-culture addict, filling his spacious apartment-- dubbed the “Fortress of Solitude” since he can never seem to find a date-- with all sorts of knick-knacks and tchotchkes from his favorite movies, games, and comics. If he’s not at work, you almost always find him at the Fifth Dimension Comic Shop in Hobb’s Bay.

Perry White

Depending on who you ask, Perry White is either a radical socialist, a far-right extremist, a corporate shill, an irrelevant dinosaur, or a slander-slinging grifter. All of these names, however, are just deflections for what he really is: a journalist with integrity. While other traditional news outlets turn to more exploitative and sensationalist tactics to get clicks and ratings, turning news into cheap reality-TV entertainment, Perry has stuck to his guns for decades to make sure that the Daily Planet is the most trustworthy and incorruptible source in the country. Sadly, this integrity also means little to no funding, few grants, and even fewer investors, to the point where he has to fill his staff with nobodies like Clark Kent and e-famous firebrands like Lois Lane to keep the lights on. Still, just because they work cheap doesn’t mean he won’t hold them up to the standards he always has. The lion of the newsroom may be old, but he’s still got fangs.

Dan Turpin and Maggie Sawyer

MPD Captain Dan Turpin has seen it all in his day, and has been “two weeks from retirement” for the past five years. He’s been on the front lines against the Mannheim Crime Family for as long as he can remember, but even though a life of crime-fighting has hardened him, it’s only steeled his resolve to uphold law and order. Lieutenant Maggie Sawyer is his protégée, a fiery idealist and a crack shot, but would likely have run in guns blazing and gotten herself killed half a dozen times over if Turpin hadn’t been there to cool her jets. Together, the two of them head the MPD’s new Special Crimes Unit, taking on bigger and crazier things than your average cop can be expected to handle. Luckily, Turpin and Sawyer aren’t your average cops.

General Calvin Swanwick

General Swanwick is a decorated war-hero and a celebrated commander of men, having gained acclaim during the wars in the Middle East for his bold unconventional tactics and inspiring leadership. He is also a staunch patriot, placing his duty to the United States above all other considerations. In recent years, the General has shifted much of his attention toward the organization ARGUS, believing they can create new technologies and solutions to protect the American people, and put Her enemies down hard.

Bruno Mannheim

Bruno Mannheim is the patriarch of the Mannheim Family, the oldest and largest criminal syndicate in Metropolis. Under Bruno’s rule, the Mannheims have made sure that every organized crime outfit in the city-- from simple street gangs and drug dealers up to and including human traffickers and contract killers-- is in his pocket, creating a vast web of vice and violence the police have nicknamed “Intergang.” He has bought off half the judges, lawyers, and cops in the city, and those he can’t buy, he pressures, threatens, or simply silences. Bruno has come to believe that he is untouchable, especially now that he has made friends in even higher places.

Lex Luthor

Already the richest man in the world by the age of 21, Lex Luthor is generally considered to be the next Einstein or Hawking, and even that would be selling him short. Having inherited his father’s ailing petrochemical company, Luthor shocked many by completely transforming the aging Luthorcorp from the ground up, the new LexCorp rising from the ashes as an electronics and communications company. With a combination of fantastical inventions and an utterly ruthless business acumen, Luthor rampaged through Silicon Valley like Ghengis Khan, toppling tech giants who were once thought invincible, and he has yet to slow down. At this moment, LexCorp has tremendous holds in the communications, media, electronics, energy, transportation, entertainment, manufacturing, and military industries, creating everything from advanced cybernetics to video game consoles. In addition, Luthor is an outspoken social activist, a believer in what he calls the “Great Reset” that will force humanity to cast off old, outdated ways of thinking and adopt a new utopian world order. While many are skeptical and suspicious of Luthor’s true motives, the list of people willing to say so in public is getting smaller by the day.

Brainiac

The crown jewel of LexCorp’s achievements, Brainiac is effectively whatever the user wants it to be. It’s an operating system, a social media platform, a music and video streaming service, a search engine, a universal online store, a constantly-updating encyclopedia, an archive of virtually every book known to man, a digital business assistant, a tax accounting program, a free university and trade school, and even a platform for low-brow entertainment like hardcore pornography and badly written fan-fiction roleplaying games. One in every three mobile devices purchased in the past year, all around the world, runs on Brainiac. Brainiac is being used as a teaching aide in schools, and has replaced accounting and administrative firms in many major corporations. Contracts have even been made with the US, EU, Russian, and Chinese governments to replace their outdated computer systems with new ones that run on Brainiac. It is everywhere, in everything. The future is now, and that future is in Brainiac.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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“I don’t know who the hell you are,” scowls the aging crag-faced man in a suit that likely costs more than the whole farm back home, “or why you’ve decided to inconvenience me. But I do know that inconvenience stops right now.”

“You’re right about that, Mannheim,” I say, casually tossing aside the unconscious form of an armed guard into the pile of rubble and dust that used to be the palatial mansion’s main hall, “because I doubt I’m going to have any reason to keep bothering you in prison.”

For the past twenty-five years, Bruno Mannheim has been the undisputed ruler of the underworld in Metropolis. Drugs, weapons, prostitution, extortion, kidnapping, murder, you name it, he’s either done it or had it done for him, and all without the slightest consequence. Anyone who’s ever tried to oppose him either wound up under his thumb, in his pocket, or sinking to the bottom of Hobb’s Bay. Whether it’s cops, lawyers, judges, mayors or senators, nobody has had the power or the conviction to go after Metropolis’s king of crime.

Nobody until today, anyway. It turns out, it’s hard to threaten someone whose skin deflects bullets.

“Laugh all you want now, Boy Scout,” Mannheim sneers, “But you’re going to pay for every last cent you’ve cost me.”

“And you’re going to pay for every drop of blood that’s on your--*hnghhh!*”

My muscles begin to twitch and spasm as a million pins and needles prickle and stab all over my body. The air fills with the smell of ozone, and an angry buzzing like a swarm of bees. Electric shock….the floor….he’s electrified the floor!

“Ha! I knew you had a limit somewhere!” he laughs, his sneer giving way to cruel triumph. “Oh sure, you’re strong, and fast, and can do things that would give my old science teacher a heart attack. But everyone’s got their limits, Superman. Even you.”

As I struggle to keep my senses, I see him pull a small remote control from the inside pocket of his jacket.

“That’s over two million volts running through you right now,” Mannheim gloats. “A very smart friend of mine tells me that’s the most any man-made electrical source has ever been able to generate. He also tells me that this floor we’ve had installed can crack a billion volts, the same as a bolt of lightning. The thing is, my smart friend says, a bolt of lightning only lasts a millionth of a second. So if I turn this all the way up to maximum, it will be like hitting you with a million bolts of lightning every second.”

He takes a few steps back, and a thick transparent screen drops down from the ceiling between him and me, keeping him safe as the air starts to crackle. A smile of sadistic glee nearly splits his face in two.

“So let’s see how long it takes to turn you from regular to extra-crispy.”

He presses the button, the angry buzzing becomes the deafening roar of man-made thunder, and the world explodes into light and pain. Every nerve in my body screams, every muscle seizes and locks. My heart spasms at random, and my lungs fill with smoke. My senses reel as my brain starts to short circuit.

I don’t know how long Mannheim continues to pour voltage through me. Seconds, minutes, hours? Time seems to lose its meaning. It would be easy to quit struggling, to escape the pain and slip away into eternity now.

But that would mean that Mannheim wins, and gets to keep hurting and killing good people.

And that won’t do.

I grit my teeth. I clench my fists. I open my eyes. And, with the power of a million thunderbolts coursing through my body every second, I take a step towards him.

And then another.

And another.

“.....n-no,” Mannheim stammers. “That’s not…...no! You can’t! E-e-everyone has l-limits! E-e-even you! You have to have a limit!”

I take another step forward, and I grin.

“…...do I?”

Three DC Comics RPGs, one game. Which moves forward? You decide!

MB said OOC is going up Friday. It is Friday.

Three DC Comics RPGs, one game. Which moves forward? You decide!

I suppose while we're taking about creating canon, we ought to work out exactly how much of each canon we're allowed to shape. The DCU, after all, has tons of legacy characters and spin-offs and whatnot, so it may behoove us to clarify the rules around, say, if someone wants to have Wally West be the Flash first, or someone wants to play Damian as Robin before Dick Grayson shows up, etc.

Three DC Comics RPGs, one game. Which moves forward? You decide!

*Awakens from my thousand-year slumber, shakes off the layers of dust and rubble that have covered my corpse, and rises from my long-forgotten tomb*

I know I've done the Pitch #2 concept a thousand times, so at the moment, Pitch #3 really appeals to me. That said, I would not be heartbroken at another crack at a year-one DCU.

Absolute Comics - Justice Rising

<Snipped quote by AndyC>

Clearly I'm doing a shit job of GMing.

I've touched them a little bit, and Rogue is an integral part of my Steve Rogers story, but otherwise no, not really.

@HenryJonesJr

That, or I wasn't paying attention. Which is probably more likely. I'm still kicking around character concepts, but I'd likely go with Logan, so Rogue wouldn't really figure into anything I'd have in mind.