Supermaxx

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

<Snipped quote by Sep>

What time is that?

@Lord Wraith

Sep'll wake up at the break of dawn and hand delivery a fresh post just to you.

Superboy's Shitty Characters

Jace

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Jason Miller

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Character Summary

Name: Jason Hendrick Miller
Aliases: Jace
Age: 28
Birthday: May 3rd, 1990
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Birth Place: Springton, Ohio
Current Residence: Springton, Ohio
Gender: Male
Education: Associate's Degree in Mechanical Engineering
Job: Bouncer

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Appearance

Height: 6'0
Weight: 186 lbs
Build: Athletic, bulkier frame
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown
Skin Tone: Light-Medium
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Scar running above his right eye and another on his left cheek. No piercings or tattoos.

Personal Style: Jace can most often be found sporting drab and functional clothing, with little regard to style or flair. He prefers darker colored, plain shirts and thick, tough jeans. When the weather grows foul he'll toss on a hoodie and a leather jacket over it to keep himself warm. The only item of apparel he seemingly owns that has an ounce of personality is a torn up Cincinnati Reds baseball cap. He wears his hair semi-long, about to his ears, only ever tending to it when it begins to get in his way.

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Psychology

Driven * Temperamental * Passionate * Pessimistic

Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: Jason Miller bends for no one, not even himself. No matter the odds he will continue to to bash his head up against a brick wall, equally convinced that he'll be able to break through as he is terrified that it won't ever happen. Typically quiet, he keeps to himself, rarely going out of his way to make friends. Those that approach him find it difficult to break through to him; if they manage to convince Jace to make plans to do something, there's a good chance he'll flake without so much as a call.

He's an angry man with a pertinence for violence. Easily irritated and temperamental, he'd rather he could solve all of his problems with his fists since he often fails to do so with his words. He spends a great deal of time within the prison of his mind, thinking on his failure- past and future ones alike. Though he worries constantly, Jason doesn't allow them to slow him down or turn him away from the path he has set himself upon. He will continue to push toward what he desires until he's dead and buried.

Habits: When irritated or anxious, Jace will rub his hands near and fiddle with his pockets, but never put them in them.
Hobbies: Amateur Boxing, Drinking
Fears:

• Intimacy
• Amounting to nothing
• Thunder

Likes:

• Rap/Hip-Hop [Eminem, MF Doom, Andre 3000]
• Pepperoni Pizza
• Baseball
• Boxing
• Drinking

Dislikes:

• Country music
• Chicken
• Reading
• Storms
• Authority

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History

A Memory: The day Miller remembers most clearly is the day he learned his parents had died. He was just leaving a bar with a group of college friends when he received a phone call from Sheriff McConnell. It was raining in Springton that day- hard. He doesn't recall almost anything that McConnell said, but that feeling of his heart being torn open from the inside still lingers within the recesses of his chest from time to time.

History: Born and raised in the small town of Springton, Ohio, Jace's life is intrinsically tied to that place. His tiny, Mid-western hometown is a place he loves almost as much as he despises. Growing up he can remember all of the names and faces of those he was closest to in his community. He remembers where they used to sit in the town's only church, and he remembers what he'd order from the diner every Saturday. He remembers that strange smell that always lingered in the theater, and he remembers that spot in the woods he and his small group of friends used to hang out at, far from the prying eyes of overbearing teachers and parents.

And he remembers when he left it all behind to seek out a college degree he didn't really want. His father had pressed him to follow in his footsteps and become a technical engineer so that Jason could join him in working at Springton's hydroelectric power plant. It paid excellently, and was far more 'realistic' than his son's pipe dream in becoming a professional boxer. After much arguing, Jace relented, taking his father's free ride and completing an associate's degree in the relevant field. He hated every second of it and found the whole thing horrifically dull, but he had to; the shadow of his family's expectations hung heavy over his head.

He had begun to resent not only his father, but everyone else in his life that took to telling him what to do. He became angry and disillusioned, choosing to ignore his college work in favor of drinking and partying. It didn't take long for him to begin failing his courses. During summer break, he planned to vent his frustrations to his dad, letting him know that he planned to drop out sooner rather than later. Jason didn't get the opportunity. During that same break, his family was involved in a fatal car crash with a drunk driver.

The news broke him. Miller left college and retreated within himself, finding solace in the bottle. For a long time he went without a job, spending every waking minute beating haphazardly on a punching bag he'd hung from the rafters in his apartment. A dozen noise complaints brought his landlord to his door. He was kicked out, but not before the landlord got Jason in touch with a friend of his- a friend that used to box professionally, and just so happened to be living out his retirement in Springton.

Jason returned home and started his life anew. He started crashing on the couch of an old friend from high school as he took up lessons with the Old Boxer, working as a bouncer at a local bar full-time. It's a crushingly difficult life that he lives. When he isn't fighting or sleeping, he's tossing money away on cheap alcohol to keep himself sane. It's a habit his mentor scolds tremendously and often, but it isn't one Miller is willing to let go easily.

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Extras

Character Quote: "The greatest oak was once a little nut who held it's ground."
Theme Song: The Boxer

Video Games: The General Discussion & Community Thread

While I'd played games like Dig-Dug and Galaga before, the first really big game I got my hands on was Kingdom Hearts. My parents bought it for me for Christmas when I was around ten years old and boy did I have no idea what I was getting into. It was just a Disney game, right? It had goofy and Donald Duck on the cover, so there was no way I wasn't going to breeze through this.

But it kicked my ass.

Boy howdy did Kingdom Hearts kick my little ten year old ass.

I spent an awful amount of time just running around the starter island because I couldn't get a handle on the controls, and the game never exactly told me where to go and what to do; so I mostly just talked to the few NPC characters around and failed at jumping up to things. Combat was super tricky even on the easiest difficulty, and I ended up dying...a lot. I had to get my older sister to 'help' (read: do it for me) whenever I came across a moderately strong boss.

But man, no matter how bad at it I was, I loved it. I loved every grueling second of trying to beat that game. Little me thought it had the greatest story ever written since Peter Pan, and it's what really got me interested in fantasy stories. Not to mention the fact that it kickstarted the (other) hobby that's pretty well defined my life since I was a wee lad. I can't imagine having another game be my first.

Game of Thrones: Summerhall

It's a work in progress, to say the least.

House Greyjoy

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W E D O N O T S O W

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Leadership:

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Dagon Greyjoy is the current Lord Reaper of Pyke, and the fiercest leader the Iron Islands has seen since the death of Hardhand. Men carrying his banner raid the mainland with abandon, taking all of the plunder and women that the Ironborn could ever need from the flimsy and weak men of the Riverlands. Once, he even made war with the wolves of the north and the lions of the south, bridling both with the might of the kraken at his back. Time is a cruel mistress, however, and old age has mellowed that once raging bull. Though the Ironborn still pillage and raid, any dreams of the Iron Throne that Dagon might've had were forgotten; his only ambition now is to ensure his son, Syron Greyjoy, is ready to take the throne when he passes.

Prominent Members:

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Syron Greyjoy

Relation: Son of Dagon, Heir

Short Biography:

Appearance:

Personality:

Quellon Greyjoy

Relation: Son of Syron, Grandson of Dagon

Short Biography:

Appearance:

Personality:

Hellen Greyjoy

Relation: Wife of Dagon

Short Biography:

Appearance:

Personality:

Sigrid Greyjoy

Wife of Syron, Mother of Quellon

Short Biography:

Appearance:

Personality:

Sworn Houses:

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While there are dozens more houses in the Iron Islands that swear their allegiance to the Greyjoys, these listed few are those with the most power, influence or notoriety of all the Ironborn houses:

• House Blacktyde of Blacktyde, under Lord Toreon Blacktyde
• House Botley of Lordsport, under Lord Hast Botley
• House Goodbrother of Hammerhorn, under Lord Bard Goodbrother
• House Harlaw of Harlaw, under Lord Sorly Harlaw
• House Merlyn of Pebbleton, under Lord Siegfried Merlyn
• House Sparr of Red Harbor, under Lord Runen Sparr
• House Humble of Salten, under ""Lord"" Vara Humble

Military Might:

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In times of war or great peril, the Iron Isles can muster over twenty thousand warriors and put to sea over five hundred of their infamous longships.

Even in times of peace they boast one of the largest fleets of ships in all of Westeros- the Iron Fleet- which numbers one hundred strong. Commanded by Lord Syron Greyjoy from aboard his flagship, the Sea Devil, the Iron Fleet is the vanguard of Ironborn might, projecting the fearsome power and ruthlessness of it's people across all of Westeros and beyond.

The warriors of the Iron Islands are not a prestigious lot. They are commonly viewed as little more than savage raiders, no better than ordinary corsairs. Those of the Reach know them for their cruelty. Women of the Riverlands are carried off as often as gold, food and livestock; their villages are routinely 'taxed' by Ironborn, on the promise that they will frighten off the real pirates. Not a single Corsair has entered the waters of the Iron Isles and left, though one would be hard-pressed to find smallfolk that prefer living under the thumb of Iron Men.

It is on the sea that their warriors find their strength, not on land. In a pitched battle- far away from their longships- they are an unorganized rabble of berserkers, unable to march in formation or see battle as anything but a wild melee. Fierce though they might be individually, a wall of spears or a spearhead of heavy cavalry is all that's needed to break the living tide.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

<Snipped quote by Superboy>

I think it's an economical issue. Do you know how much makeup remover you need to reverse permanent and bizarrely specific chemical bleaching?

@Master Bruce

All this time we thought Joker was a murderous psychopath, but really he just needed cash for plastic surgery to fix his fucked up face. Batman is the real villain here.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

<Snipped quote by Hound55>

Hey, hold on now. Snyder took it a step further and had Joker re-attach the face after Tony Daniel randomly had the de-facing happen at the end of his debut issue of Detective Comics and then never followed up on that because his run was hot garbage.

So, you know. There. An entirely different Batman writer ripped Bushman off.

_{(Still haunted by the question of 'Why did the fuck Joker want his face cut off?' seven years later)}

@Master Bruce

Nobody told him about make-up remover?

Superboy's Shitty Characters

House Greyjoy

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W E D O N O T S O W

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Leadership:

---

Dagon Greyjoy is the current Lord Reaper of Pyke, and the fiercest leader the Iron Islands has seen since the death of Hardhand. Men carrying his banner raid the mainland with abandon, taking all of the plunder and women that the Ironborn could ever need from the flimsy and weak men of the Riverlands. Once, he even made war with the wolves of the north and the lions of the south, bridling both with the might of the kraken at his back. Time is a cruel mistress, however, and old age has mellowed that once raging bull. Though the Ironborn still pillage and raid, any dreams of the Iron Throne that Dagon might've had were forgotten; his only ambition now is to ensure his son, Syron Greyjoy, is ready to take the throne when he passes.

Prominent Members:

---

Syron Greyjoy

Relation: Son of Dagon, Heir

Short Biography:

Appearance:

Personality:

Quellon Greyjoy

Relation: Son of Syron, Grandson of Dagon

Short Biography:

Appearance:

Personality:

Hellen Greyjoy

Relation: Wife of Dagon

Short Biography:

Appearance:

Personality:

Sigrid Greyjoy

Wife of Syron, Mother of Quellon

Short Biography:

Appearance:

Personality:

Sworn Houses:

---

While there are dozens more houses in the Iron Islands that swear their allegiance to the Greyjoys, these listed few are those with the most power, influence or notoriety of all the Ironborn houses:

• House Blacktyde of Blacktyde, under Lord Toreon Blacktyde
• House Botley of Lordsport, under Lord Hast Botley
• House Goodbrother of Hammerhorn, under Lord Bard Goodbrother
• House Harlaw of Harlaw, under Lord Sorly Harlaw
• House Merlyn of Pebbleton, under Lord Siegfried Merlyn
• House Sparr of Red Harbor, under Lord Runen Sparr
• House Humble of Salten, under ""Lord"" Vara Humble

Military Might:

---

In times of war or great peril, the Iron Isles can muster over twenty thousand warriors and put to sea over five hundred of their infamous longships.

Even in times of peace they boast one of the largest fleets of ships in all of Westeros- the Iron Fleet- which numbers one hundred strong. Commanded by Lord Syron Greyjoy from aboard his flagship, the Sea Devil, the Iron Fleet is the vanguard of Ironborn might, projecting the fearsome power and ruthlessness of it's people across all of Westeros and beyond.

The warriors of the Iron Islands are not a prestigious lot. They are commonly viewed as little more than savage raiders, no better than ordinary corsairs. Those of the Reach know them for their cruelty. Women of the Riverlands are carried off as often as gold, food and livestock; their villages are routinely 'taxed' by Ironborn, on the promise that they will frighten off the real pirates. Not a single Corsair has entered the waters of the Iron Isles and left, though one would be hard-pressed to find smallfolk that prefer living under the thumb of Iron Men.

It is on the sea that their warriors find their strength, not on land. In a pitched battle- far away from their longships- they are an unorganized rabble of berserkers, unable to march in formation or see battle as anything but a wild melee. Fierce though they might be individually, a wall of spears or a spearhead of heavy cavalry is all that's needed to break the living tide.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

<Snipped quote by Byrd Man>
you are completely correct

@Inkarnate

Coincidentally, you'd also end up with a stress-induced brain aneurysm.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

I liked the Amazing Spider-Man 2.

Terrible, awful, good-for-nothing film, sure. But I had fun watching it and Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield have a ton of chemistry together, in my opinion. Electro was a campy villain with a fuckin' lit as hell soundtrack and visually pleasing powers. Goblin and Rhino were hilarious, even if the former wasn't meant to be, and Harry's character was dramatically compelling up until he turned into an evil troll doll.

EDIT: Hans Zimmerman can do no wrong.

Pariah Online | Season One

G R A V E S

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• Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •

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Fear crept like frost along Graves's body, it's cold tendrils rooting him in place. His eyes hung wide on the rapidly shattering threshold and the titan forcing it's way through. The dungeon's boss- a monstrous amalgamation of every slime monster they'd fight before- was attempting to chase them down and finish them off.

Their party was running on fumes. They'd had perhaps a minute or two to catch their breath and start regenerating magic points before this thing appeared.

It now loomed over the party's lone musician and bard, dwarfing her several times over. For God knows what reason, be it bravery or shock, the girl had chosen to stand her ground instead of running away. She was moments from being ground into nothing but marrow and gore by that gargantuan thing. Graves should've started forward. He should've already been moving to intercept to try and save her. Ordinarily he would. Graves was a tank; protecting overextended supports was his duty. Yet now as he stared that demonic giant in it's burning gaze, he felt only crippling indecisiveness.

Death was an alien concept. To him, it was meant to be a distant worry; something to mind in fifty years when he'd lived a full life. Here in the safety of his room, in a game of all places, it felt all too close.

Yet despite that, Rael was already moving.

She was half his size and could be crushed just as easily as Tiferet, but Rael moved in anyway.

Because she had to. Because they all had to. They couldn't run or hide in a place like this. The only way to survive the dungeon was to fight against whatever it threw at them with all of the strength, courage and desperation that they could muster. It was what was required of her; it was what was necessary.

"Jesus." Graves snarled under his breath, tightening his grip on his weapon. He needed to pull himself together. He'd given Tessa shit for what he was doing, and even if he was going down in this tomb, he wasn't going to die a hypocrite.

He started forward, his armor heavy upon his shoulders as he reached down to pluck a pair of elixirs from his belt. Ironskin and lifesteal would allow him to go toe to toe with most monsters solo. However, a boss like this would tear him limb from limb if he were to rely just on the potions; luckily for him, he wasn't alone. "Knife-ears!" He bellowed, his boots smacking hard against stone as he moved toward the giant. "If ya let me die I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya!" His throat felt horse and raw. He really hoped she could do this.

Rael managing to stop one of the claws just before it got a hold of Tiferet must've infuriated the boss, because it was tearing at the door in record time. A massive threshold of thick steel and wood was being mangled and broken like it was made of tissue paper. The entire structure was collapsing, even as the hinges groaned and whined in protest to the attack.

Graves, knowing they didn't have much time, ran at the arm Rael struggled against. He needed to draw the creature's attention away the duo, if he could; even if he couldn't, splitting it's attention was better than nothing. His target was the lower forearm, just underneath the elbow. The polearm was barely long enough to reach there and still be effective.

"That all ya got, ya ugly bastard?!" How it had failed to shatter the half-pints guard, Graves didn't know. Either it was far weaker than it appeared or Rael was packing 18 inch Destroyer guns. Either way, the two of them were alive, but there was no guarantee they would stay that way if he didn't act soon.

So he threw himself at Arnaakus, his momentum shifting behind the axhead of his halberd. He swung it down over his head, letting the tempered steel crash against the hardened exterior of the demon with a thunderous clash. The sheer mass of so many slimes come together had made it all but completely solid, frozen and harsh like stone. Attacking it was more akin to smashing ice than gelatin; a fact he could appreciate. It was nice to finally have something solid to stab.

Tiferet's <Hestia> song had gifted his weapon with the embers needed to make headway in the beast's flesh, melting through the ice where an ordinary edge would not suffice. He wasn't able to cut deep, perhaps only two or three inches in, but the wound was visible. And that was enough.

"Pyro, archers!" Graves shouted over his shoulder, hoping they could hear over the sound of shearing metal. He went in for another cut, sliding the ax head along at an angle over the previous cut. This one was much shallower than the last, but it was quicker. "X marks the spot! Light it up and take this thing's arm off!" Concentrated fire from Landon, Mirage and everyone's favorite pyromaniac would hopefully burn straight through the arm. The fight would be a hell of a lot easier if they only had to worry about one super strong claw instead of two.