Half Pint
op2024
Cyberlad
Ezekiel
PatientBean
Mao Mao
Retired
Qia
Festive
mickilennialByrd's Flash is broken link..?
Hound55 Member
Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!
STATUS: A Perpetual Motion Engine of Anxiety and Self-Loathing 2 yrs ago
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2 yrs ago
Current
A Perpetual Motion Engine of Anxiety and Self-Loathing
Bio
So there I am, in Sri Lanka, formerly Ceylon, at about 3 o'clock in the morning, looking for one thousand brown M&Ms to fill a brandy glass, or Ozzy wouldn't go on stage that night. So, Jeff Beck pops his head 'round the door, and mentions there's a little sweets shop on the edge of town. So - we go. And - it's closed. So there's me, and Keith Moon, and David Crosby, breaking into that little sweets shop, eh. Well, instead of a guard dog, they've got this bloody great big Bengal tiger. I managed to take out the tiger with a can of mace, but the shopowner and his son... that's a different story altogether. I had to beat them to death with their own shoes. Nasty business, really. But, sure enough, I got the M&Ms, and Ozzy went on stage and did a great show.
Most Recent Posts
Honestly, I've been inspired by the number of people that have put in for characters after other people posted their sheets – and even more so, those that have persevered and applied for second and third choice characters when they've missed out on their first choice. Well done everyone.
*Hides in Golden Age pulp hero*
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 A N D M A N
WESLEY DODDS ♦ RETIRED INVESTOR / VENTURE CAPITALIST ♦ NEW YORK ♦ FORMER J.S.A. OPERATIVE
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
“Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes
a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked,
and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a
butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.” - Chuang-Tzu
a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked,
and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a
butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.” - Chuang-Tzu
The 1940s in New York City.
A young man named Jackie Robinson is breaching the color barrier in baseball for the Dodgers.
The BROOKLYN Dodgers.
Joe Louis' career is in its twilight, afterwards the Brown Bomber would retire as one of the greatest heavyweights ever to grace the ring. In the pound-for-pound stakes Sugar Ray Robinson is partway through what would become one of the most remarkable unbeaten streaks ever.
But it was the mythology of fighters outside of the squared circle that would captivate many.
In 1948, rumours spread like wildfire about a 'Mystery Man' clad in a long coat, old World War I gas mask and brandishing a 'gas gun' which he could use to either put bad men to sleep or give them nightmares. Claims of drawing out confessions and truth from the lips of criminals in a sleep state also spread amongst the good people of Manhattan.
A silent protector, watching over Manhattan whilst she would sleep.
A Sandman of the folklore borne to a city in need. From time to time there were sightings. Claims of a masked face turning, a figure disappearing in a plume of mist. An urban legend. A civilized city's Chupacabra.
Then the random appearances became few and far between. It was the fifties, and J. Edgar Hoover had diverted resources to generate a concerted effort for an elite investigation taskforce. Clean-cut men who specialized in methods of criminology at the forefront of innovation! J. Edgar spurned the terms "Science heroes" and "mystery men", he wanted a team of good men without flashy standouts seeking fame. He would have them... by any means available, and would be willing to use the full weight of the United States Federal Government.
These men were each brilliant in their own fashion, but would remain faceless. It would be the unit as a whole that would be the aspiration for a new young generation of clean-cut American kids. There would be no Flash. All substance. No names. Just the squad. All glory to the "J-Men", Hoover's Justices for the Society of America!
Now it is well over half a century later. Legend of the Sandman's past has largely been relegated to the darker conspiracy-based corners of the internet.
Wesley Dodds still has his money. He still has his house. His big empty house, and the voices, ghosts and dark dreams of a life more lived than most.
His memories are rapidly fading with age and now his waking moments are becoming more and more consumed by the chaos of dreams...
...and when Wesley Dodds is confronted by the violent murder of one of his former squad, there's only one way he knows how to respond.
But what hope does an enfeebled hero, furthermore one grabbing so desperately to the fast-fading threads that connect him to reality, have for one last chance at glory and to get justice for a fallen comrade?
A young man named Jackie Robinson is breaching the color barrier in baseball for the Dodgers.
The BROOKLYN Dodgers.
Joe Louis' career is in its twilight, afterwards the Brown Bomber would retire as one of the greatest heavyweights ever to grace the ring. In the pound-for-pound stakes Sugar Ray Robinson is partway through what would become one of the most remarkable unbeaten streaks ever.
But it was the mythology of fighters outside of the squared circle that would captivate many.
In 1948, rumours spread like wildfire about a 'Mystery Man' clad in a long coat, old World War I gas mask and brandishing a 'gas gun' which he could use to either put bad men to sleep or give them nightmares. Claims of drawing out confessions and truth from the lips of criminals in a sleep state also spread amongst the good people of Manhattan.
A silent protector, watching over Manhattan whilst she would sleep.
A Sandman of the folklore borne to a city in need. From time to time there were sightings. Claims of a masked face turning, a figure disappearing in a plume of mist. An urban legend. A civilized city's Chupacabra.
Then the random appearances became few and far between. It was the fifties, and J. Edgar Hoover had diverted resources to generate a concerted effort for an elite investigation taskforce. Clean-cut men who specialized in methods of criminology at the forefront of innovation! J. Edgar spurned the terms "Science heroes" and "mystery men", he wanted a team of good men without flashy standouts seeking fame. He would have them... by any means available, and would be willing to use the full weight of the United States Federal Government.
These men were each brilliant in their own fashion, but would remain faceless. It would be the unit as a whole that would be the aspiration for a new young generation of clean-cut American kids. There would be no Flash. All substance. No names. Just the squad. All glory to the "J-Men", Hoover's Justices for the Society of America!
Now it is well over half a century later. Legend of the Sandman's past has largely been relegated to the darker conspiracy-based corners of the internet.
Wesley Dodds still has his money. He still has his house. His big empty house, and the voices, ghosts and dark dreams of a life more lived than most.
His memories are rapidly fading with age and now his waking moments are becoming more and more consumed by the chaos of dreams...
...and when Wesley Dodds is confronted by the violent murder of one of his former squad, there's only one way he knows how to respond.
But what hope does an enfeebled hero, furthermore one grabbing so desperately to the fast-fading threads that connect him to reality, have for one last chance at glory and to get justice for a fallen comrade?
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:
The character's motivations will become clear as the first arc drops. As they do, I intend to add to the CS on the go, so I'm not spoiling my stuff.
As for my own motivations, I'm looking to delve into a man who is himself collapsing INTO the state of dream itself.
And as for how/where the character's story is going to go? It'll be set in the backdrop of a classic ol' pulpy murder mystery.
Cliches exist for a reason.
As for my own motivations, I'm looking to delve into a man who is himself collapsing INTO the state of dream itself.
And as for how/where the character's story is going to go? It'll be set in the backdrop of a classic ol' pulpy murder mystery.
Cliches exist for a reason.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Origins of the JSA
I'm thinking '50s-'70s. With the Justices for the Society of America, also known as "Hoover's J-Men" being an elite group of "Mystery Men", conscripted often against their will by Hoover to be the indomitable elite force he first envisioned the FBI to be.
The team dissolved after a less than completely successful incident involving a mysterious figure the JSA archives name as Per Degaton (after which, if reports are to be believed, a number of team members experienced considerable resistance to the usual aging process).
Numerous JSA agents were scattered across short term time, making it impossible for theif handlers to track them down. Those conscripted against their will seized the opportunity to slip away, and by this time Hoover had left, his replacements' influence had waned after a revolving door of Acting Directors and Watergate. The FBI's shadowy reputation left so much to be desired that new FBI Director Clarence Kelley made no attempts to track them down, as he instead focused on repairing the damage done to their image by his predecessors.
Former J.S.A. Agents
Jay Garrick
Ted Grant
Rex Tyler
Alan Pratt
Ted Knight
Johnny Thunder - *DECEASED*
Terry Sloane
Charles McNider
I'm thinking '50s-'70s. With the Justices for the Society of America, also known as "Hoover's J-Men" being an elite group of "Mystery Men", conscripted often against their will by Hoover to be the indomitable elite force he first envisioned the FBI to be.
The team dissolved after a less than completely successful incident involving a mysterious figure the JSA archives name as Per Degaton (after which, if reports are to be believed, a number of team members experienced considerable resistance to the usual aging process).
Numerous JSA agents were scattered across short term time, making it impossible for theif handlers to track them down. Those conscripted against their will seized the opportunity to slip away, and by this time Hoover had left, his replacements' influence had waned after a revolving door of Acting Directors and Watergate. The FBI's shadowy reputation left so much to be desired that new FBI Director Clarence Kelley made no attempts to track them down, as he instead focused on repairing the damage done to their image by his predecessors.
Former J.S.A. Agents
Jay Garrick
Ted Grant
Rex Tyler
Alan Pratt
Ted Knight
Johnny Thunder - *DECEASED*
Terry Sloane
Charles McNider
S A M P L E P O S T:
January 17th, 1949 - Manhattan, NEW YORK - Light snowfall
1948. It had been a hectic year. Truman had signed the Marshall Plan, which would provide $5 billion in aid to 16 wartorn European countries in dire need in the wake of World War II. It would give a boost to infrastructure and business, remove trade barriers and form the base capital to modernize industry…
...particularly when combined with foreign investment.
The next four years would see the most rapid growth in European history. And would form a large part of my own personal holdings over the next decade. I had invested in the region because I saw it as the opportunity to do the most good with my father’s legacy, the potential for growth merely sweetening the pie.
Truman had also signed Executive Order 9981, ending racial segregation in the US Armed Forces. Five years before the desegregation of schools would make any major headway and allow equal opportunities to live and learn, it would be made the law of the land that all men who can bleed red for this land can fight side-by-side.
Between brutality and life; this country, this city still has questionable priorities.
That brutality is why I find myself there, on that fire escape, whilst the rest of the city slept. One man, facing this city’s darkest nightmares, so that the innocent could dream peacefully.
Senator Margaret Chase Smith had the gall to speak out against the witch hunts that were being perpetrated in the name of Senator Joseph McCarthy and his HUAC. Senator Smith was the first woman to be elected to both houses of Congress, and is a lively driven woman, reminding me very much of Dian.
At least she had been a very lively woman prior to her abduction…
She’d passed comment to the wrong person at a fundraiser, prior to making her public denouncement of the HUAC’s activities, and the wheels had been put in motion to remove the dissenter before she would have the opportunity to make a problem.
Again, that’s why I found myself there, on that freezing fire escape, counting the kidnappers and waiting for the right spread across the upscale apartment building to make my move with the minimum chance of the Senator being caught in the crossfire.
I watched as one particular criminal crossed the floor to go to the kitchen, giving an opportunity to put myself between the bound Senator and the rest. I watched as my moment fell into place.
I crashed through the window and took the space in front of her. Thick gas dispersed into the crowded apartment.
Shouting and calls of “Get him!” and “Shoot him!” gave further proof to the brutality of these men and the world they would inhabit given the choice.
I heard a voice emanate from my mask that I barely recognized as my own, the ethereal tones the final thing these brutes would hear before drifting into unconsciousness.
“< There is no escaping the Sandman’s Dark Dream… >”
P O S T C A T A L O G:
Obviously, to be expanded as we go.
The grand tradition of coding screwups... continues.[/b]
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A LS U P E R M A NC L A R K K E N T ♦ J O U R N A L I S T ♦ M E T R O P O L I S ♦ D A I L Y P L A N E T.
I do plan on having him don the suit. He will become Superman. And soon. This isn't Smallville, as Hound feared, I'm not going to keep him away from the cape forever. In fact, by the end of the season (if those exist here) I want him to accept his role as a public hero. But, until then, I want to build up to that moment. I want it to feel like Clark is coming to terms with what it means to be a hero. I want it to feel like an earned moment and not just an inevitability.
@Retired: "Thanks for the approval... and now, for my first post..."
*Lucifer application goes up*
"OK. Now what do you think qualifies you to play the Devil..?"
*Scrolls up*
"Ah. OK. It's @Byrd Man."
"OK. Now what do you think qualifies you to play the Devil..?"
*Scrolls up*
"Ah. OK. It's @Byrd Man."
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 A N D M A N
WESLEY DODDS ♦ RETIRED INVESTOR / VENTURE CAPITALIST ♦ NEW YORK ♦ FORMER J.S.A. OPERATIVE
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
“Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes
a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked,
and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a
butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.” - Chuang-Tzu
a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked,
and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a
butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.” - Chuang-Tzu
The 1940s in New York City.
A young man named Jackie Robinson is breaching the color barrier in baseball for the Dodgers.
The BROOKLYN Dodgers.
Joe Louis' career is in its twilight, afterwards the Brown Bomber would retire as one of the greatest heavyweights ever to grace the ring. In the pound-for-pound stakes Sugar Ray Robinson is partway through what would become one of the most remarkable unbeaten streaks ever.
But it was the mythology of fighters outside of the squared circle that would captivate many.
In 1948, rumours spread like wildfire about a 'Mystery Man' clad in a long coat, old World War I gas mask and brandishing a 'gas gun' which he could use to either put bad men to sleep or give them nightmares. Claims of drawing out confessions and truth from the lips of criminals in a sleep state also spread amongst the good people of Manhattan.
A silent protector, watching over Manhattan whilst she would sleep.
A Sandman of the folklore borne to a city in need. From time to time there were sightings. Claims of a masked face turning, a figure disappearing in a plume of mist. An urban legend. A civilized city's Chupacabra.
Then the random appearances became few and far between. It was the fifties, and J. Edgar Hoover had diverted resources to generate a concerted effort for an elite investigation taskforce. Clean-cut men who specialized in methods of criminology at the forefront of innovation! J. Edgar spurned the terms "Science heroes" and "mystery men", he wanted a team of good men without flashy standouts seeking fame. He would have them... by any means available, and would be willing to use the full weight of the United States Federal Government.
These men were each brilliant in their own fashion, but would remain faceless. It would be the unit as a whole that would be the aspiration for a new young generation of clean-cut American kids. There would be no Flash. All substance. No names. Just the squad. All glory to the "J-Men", Hoover's Justices for the Society of America!
Now it is well over half a century later. Legend of the Sandman's past has largely been relegated to the darker conspiracy-based corners of the internet.
Wesley Dodds still has his money. He still has his house. His big empty house, and the voices, ghosts and dark dreams of a life more lived than most.
His memories are rapidly fading with age and now his waking moments are becoming more and more consumed by the chaos of dreams...
...and when Wesley Dodds is confronted by the violent murder of one of his former squad, there's only one way he knows how to respond.
But what hope does an enfeebled hero, furthermore one grabbing so desperately to the fast-fading threads that connect him to reality, have for one last chance at glory and to get justice for a fallen comrade?
A young man named Jackie Robinson is breaching the color barrier in baseball for the Dodgers.
The BROOKLYN Dodgers.
Joe Louis' career is in its twilight, afterwards the Brown Bomber would retire as one of the greatest heavyweights ever to grace the ring. In the pound-for-pound stakes Sugar Ray Robinson is partway through what would become one of the most remarkable unbeaten streaks ever.
But it was the mythology of fighters outside of the squared circle that would captivate many.
In 1948, rumours spread like wildfire about a 'Mystery Man' clad in a long coat, old World War I gas mask and brandishing a 'gas gun' which he could use to either put bad men to sleep or give them nightmares. Claims of drawing out confessions and truth from the lips of criminals in a sleep state also spread amongst the good people of Manhattan.
A silent protector, watching over Manhattan whilst she would sleep.
A Sandman of the folklore borne to a city in need. From time to time there were sightings. Claims of a masked face turning, a figure disappearing in a plume of mist. An urban legend. A civilized city's Chupacabra.
Then the random appearances became few and far between. It was the fifties, and J. Edgar Hoover had diverted resources to generate a concerted effort for an elite investigation taskforce. Clean-cut men who specialized in methods of criminology at the forefront of innovation! J. Edgar spurned the terms "Science heroes" and "mystery men", he wanted a team of good men without flashy standouts seeking fame. He would have them... by any means available, and would be willing to use the full weight of the United States Federal Government.
These men were each brilliant in their own fashion, but would remain faceless. It would be the unit as a whole that would be the aspiration for a new young generation of clean-cut American kids. There would be no Flash. All substance. No names. Just the squad. All glory to the "J-Men", Hoover's Justices for the Society of America!
Now it is well over half a century later. Legend of the Sandman's past has largely been relegated to the darker conspiracy-based corners of the internet.
Wesley Dodds still has his money. He still has his house. His big empty house, and the voices, ghosts and dark dreams of a life more lived than most.
His memories are rapidly fading with age and now his waking moments are becoming more and more consumed by the chaos of dreams...
...and when Wesley Dodds is confronted by the violent murder of one of his former squad, there's only one way he knows how to respond.
But what hope does an enfeebled hero, furthermore one grabbing so desperately to the fast-fading threads that connect him to reality, have for one last chance at glory and to get justice for a fallen comrade?
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:
The character's motivations will become clear as the first arc drops. As they do, I intend to add to the CS on the go, so I'm not spoiling my stuff.
As for my own motivations, I'm looking to delve into a man who is himself collapsing INTO the state of dream itself.
And as for how/where the character's story is going to go? It'll be set in the backdrop of a classic ol' pulpy murder mystery.
Cliches exist for a reason.
As for my own motivations, I'm looking to delve into a man who is himself collapsing INTO the state of dream itself.
And as for how/where the character's story is going to go? It'll be set in the backdrop of a classic ol' pulpy murder mystery.
Cliches exist for a reason.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Origins of the JSA
I'm thinking '50s-'70s. With the Justices for the Society of America, also known as "Hoover's J-Men" being an elite group of "Mystery Men", conscripted often against their will by Hoover to be the indomitable elite force he first envisioned the FBI to be.
The team dissolved after a less than completely successful incident involving a mysterious figure the JSA archives name as Per Degaton (after which, if reports are to be believed, a number of team members experienced considerable resistance to the usual aging process).
Numerous JSA agents were scattered across short term time, making it impossible for theif handlers to track them down. Those conscripted against their will seized the opportunity to slip away, and by this time Hoover had left, his replacements' influence had waned after a revolving door of Acting Directors and Watergate. The FBI's shadowy reputation left so much to be desired that new FBI Director Clarence Kelley made no attempts to track them down, as he instead focused on repairing the damage done to their image by his predecessors.
Former J.S.A. Agents
Jay Garrick
Ted Grant
Rex Tyler
Alan Pratt
Ted Knight
Johnny Thunder
Terry Sloane
Charles McNider
I'm thinking '50s-'70s. With the Justices for the Society of America, also known as "Hoover's J-Men" being an elite group of "Mystery Men", conscripted often against their will by Hoover to be the indomitable elite force he first envisioned the FBI to be.
The team dissolved after a less than completely successful incident involving a mysterious figure the JSA archives name as Per Degaton (after which, if reports are to be believed, a number of team members experienced considerable resistance to the usual aging process).
Numerous JSA agents were scattered across short term time, making it impossible for theif handlers to track them down. Those conscripted against their will seized the opportunity to slip away, and by this time Hoover had left, his replacements' influence had waned after a revolving door of Acting Directors and Watergate. The FBI's shadowy reputation left so much to be desired that new FBI Director Clarence Kelley made no attempts to track them down, as he instead focused on repairing the damage done to their image by his predecessors.
Former J.S.A. Agents
Jay Garrick
Ted Grant
Rex Tyler
Alan Pratt
Ted Knight
Johnny Thunder
Terry Sloane
Charles McNider
S A M P L E P O S T:
January 17th, 1949 - Manhattan, NEW YORK - Light snowfall
1948. It had been a hectic year. Truman had signed the Marshall Plan, which would provide $5 billion in aid to 16 wartorn European countries in dire need in the wake of World War II. It would give a boost to infrastructure and business, remove trade barriers and form the base capital to modernize industry…
...particularly when combined with foreign investment.
The next four years would see the most rapid growth in European history. And would form a large part of my own personal holdings over the next decade. I had invested in the region because I saw it as the opportunity to do the most good with my father’s legacy, the potential for growth merely sweetening the pie.
Truman had also signed Executive Order 9981, ending racial segregation in the US Armed Forces. Five years before the desegregation of schools would make any major headway and allow equal opportunities to live and learn, it would be made the law of the land that all men who can bleed red for this land can fight side-by-side.
Between brutality and life; this country, this city still has questionable priorities.
That brutality is why I find myself there, on that fire escape, whilst the rest of the city slept. One man, facing this city’s darkest nightmares, so that the innocent could dream peacefully.
Senator Margaret Chase Smith had the gall to speak out against the witch hunts that were being perpetrated in the name of Senator Joseph McCarthy and his HUAC. Senator Smith was the first woman to be elected to both houses of Congress, and is a lively driven woman, reminding me very much of Dian.
At least she had been a very lively woman prior to her abduction…
She’d passed comment to the wrong person at a fundraiser, prior to making her public denouncement of the HUAC’s activities, and the wheels had been put in motion to remove the dissenter before she would have the opportunity to make a problem.
Again, that’s why I found myself there, on that freezing fire escape, counting the kidnappers and waiting for the right spread across the upscale apartment building to make my move with the minimum chance of the Senator being caught in the crossfire.
I watched as one particular criminal crossed the floor to go to the kitchen, giving an opportunity to put myself between the bound Senator and the rest. I watched as my moment fell into place.
I crashed through the window and took the space in front of her. Thick gas dispersed into the crowded apartment.
Shouting and calls of “Get him!” and “Shoot him!” gave further proof to the brutality of these men and the world they would inhabit given the choice.
I heard a voice emanate from my mask that I barely recognized as my own, the ethereal tones the final thing these brutes would hear before drifting into unconsciousness.
“< There is no escaping the Sandman’s Dark Dream… >”
P O S T C A T A L O G:
Obviously, to be expanded as we go.
In
Three DC Comics RPGs, one game. Which moves forward? You decide!
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
In
Three DC Comics RPGs, one game. Which moves forward? You decide!
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Only time I've seen us have POVs in another timeline in these games has been in the past. There was a Superherohype game where someone was writing JSA stuff in the 60s, if I recall. But that was also years ago. Mostly we keep to the "present".
And @Byrd Man's Gotham Central...
Yeah...
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