In the beginning...

[Cyberknight]

I've seen threads for posting Characters, threads for naming characters, and threads for drawing / rendering characters. Has there been a thread of stories *about* characters? Not character sheets, not about the time my growth-based Brick did something outrageous enough to make the GM snort Dr. Pepper out his nose (Though that might be a good thread too), but about the characters themselves. Origin stories, heroic death stories, good fight stories, and the like are what I had in mind..

 

Cyberknight

"All that is needed for Evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."

[Evil Toki]

This would be a cool thread, I have a few stories, they are not based on Champions though, I run Mutants and MNasterminds, but lurk here to get ideas on superheroic gaming in general, big fan of the RDU stuff... if you guys don't mind I got a few stories to share from my own universe on origin stories, cool fights, and well just plain fun stuff!

[Maccabe]

Most Dramatic Moments

 

In an old game of mine there were 2 situations that pop to mind;

 

# 1- A PC got a phone call at his (secret ID) house...

Nurse;" Is this Mr. Jordan? You son fainted in gym class

and had to be rushed to the hospital."

Upon arrival at the hospital;

Doctor:"Mr Jordan, it turns out that your son is very sick.

His breathing is shallow,his pulse is erratic, and

readings show little to no brain activity,and only

a faint heart beat.... There is an experimental

drug we could use but it has never been tested."

 

# 2 Instructor at a school for (ahem) "gifted children";

Teacher:"The students have done well, and have

fully mastered their mutant powers.

At the graduation ceremony I thought

it might be interesting to have 1 final test.

I will dress up each of the 4 Danger Room

as a well known supervillian and have them

attack the students"

 

Punch Line= It turned out the "real " supervillians showed up instead. It was a WILD combat session....

[Maccabe]

OOOPPSSIE

 

That should have read the 4 Danger Room Andriods*

 

Sorry.

[Mayday]

Drama....

 

There was this game set in a realistic universe where heroes were in comics not reality. My character was a little girl runaway with psi powers who had been placed in a psych institute that was a front for experimentation and making its patients 'useful'. Terrified of everyone and with all these voices in her head... the bus we were on was attacked by guys seeking a scientist escaping with some heavy duty stuff in his briefcase, we stole a van and fled together, ending up hiding at a rural motel.

 

One of us went out (for some reason that sounded good at the time) and came across an abandoned farm with bodies that had been ripped apart. Then something attacked her from behind but she didnt see what, it was dark out and it kept using cover. Stalking her. Very creepy ambiance. She got nailed and back at the motel we decided to go find her. When we arrived in the truck the thing took out our tires, the Growth Brick put me on his shoulders and began running through the corn fields while it attacked his legs and we never ever SAW this thing only a shadow or rustling corn stalks, only it had this horrible RKA and good aim, and it was so very horror movie. It was outrunning the truck at one point.

 

Another time there was a bomb in an underground base, and I mean a BIG bomb. No chance to escape its radius, it was buckle in or die time, no matter how much DEF you had. Vanguard was a top notch team, every inch of DEF they could get to cover as many as possible they did it. The GM let a guest roll the damage dice, one at a time, first the multiplier.... X5. Then the damage.... 6. 6. 6. 6. 6. 6. 6. 6. Total 48 body, 240 stun killing attack.

 

Sickest roll I ever saw in Champions, and the only one that approaches it was in Cyberpunk. I got a kick out of the life chart and rolled up the max, 12, including an exlover top notch assassin whos eye I was responsible for him losing, several ex bosses that loathed her and everyone in sight wanting her dead or tortured then dead. Accordingly I took the max in skills to get me out of jams, like Move and Melting into the Crowd.

 

She was an engineer/mechanic type. Her current group of temporary associates was hired to raid an office building, only to find it was a setup to test the corporate defenses. In the first round the autocannons popped up and started sweeping down the line, killing everyone instantly except her, including the guy so plated out he was liable to go nuts at any second.

 

Round 2 she picked an office door in midroll and crashed out the office window into the street, took off pursued by Corporate thugs, very famous very deadly ones out of the book. She used every point of Movement she had and made it into a crowd, rolled a 10 on her score, they rolled a 8 and a 9, I got away by one point and we never played CyberPunk again.

 

In a D&D game a group I wasnt in was exploring some deep caverns. They came to a fast moving river and crossed a narrow rock formation/bridge with dex checks. One failed and fell in, and was swept away out of sight. Gone. But he made his Con check to hold his breath. The party continued and he made more Con checks out of nothing else he could do, then Con at half, at a quarter, an eighth.... By the time he had to roll a 1 to stay alive everyone wanted him to make it out and the GM known for enjoying killing us made him make several more Con checks at 1 or fail on D20, and he made them all. The DM caved first and the character re-emerged into the air, completely out of the adventure but triumphant.

[Mayday]

Oh, and then theres the time we got bodyswitched. We retained our mental stats and skills, and had the physical stats of the body we ended up in. Even though the jump was random, each picking a name out of a hat it was the worst possible. The stupid brick into the mentalist and the martial artist in the Dex 10 body...

 

Not knowing how to use pyro abilities and losing control is not good.

 

Another group, it was winter and we stayed up all night playing and got snowed in. So we shoveled and got donuts and hot chocolate and then played some more. :-) I had a plastic Godzilla doll and someone had just gotten the beasts book that had stats for him, so we grabbed random characters and settled in. There was Smelly Justice (a skunkman with a Flash vs Scent attack), some energy projectors and flying bricks. One was determined to do a Move Through on Godzilla and so we let him splatter himself across the lizard and drip off. We ended up dropping the Skunk on Godzilla's nose and letting him do his worst while we did head shots and Haymakers.... On no sleep with zero prep, it was alot of fun.

 

In Champions MUSH there was a similar giant lizard menace wading in once. Since my mentalist had line of sight for a very long way out she Ego Blasted it every step of the way, it hit the beach reeling just as the other heroes arrived and VibraCobra (?) took off to ram it for the K.O.

[BlackSword]

BlackJack

 

Our GM had us write short stories to introduce our characters to the rest of the group and help give a concept on the character. Here's my short story, forgive poorly written phrases, I did go into engineering for a reason . Sorry for the length. The Hero is a former con-artist, volunteered to be a hero by an organization. His realm of control is darkness and he creates dark tendrils for grappling and throwing, his power is cut in half in the daylight.

 

Some people call me a con man, others call me a crook, I like to think of myself as an entrepreneur.

 

So I stack the odds in my favor, that's against the law? I mean really if you don't know the rules to three card monty then don't play the game. Its not hard to learn, three card monty has only one rule, "The house always wins." Sure, I pay out, I let them win, but it's when they get greedy that the odds start to turn.

 

Hey in pool I play a fair game, I just happen to have a better game then anyone else. Can you blame a guy for having skill with the stick? Occasionally I like to give myself some incentive to try so I put a bit of money on the table. Usually I win that money back. Someone trained on computers makes his money selling his skills to a company; I make my money using my skills. I am a hustler? No, I never lose a game before I put money up, people know what to expect.

 

The problem is when people lose they tend to angry, and when the get angry they like to speak with their fists first. I don't like to talk with my fists. Sure I know how to rumble some, but I also know how to run. More importantly I know how to hide. Miyomato Musashi (and here you thought I was shiftless grifter with no reading or philosophy) said that in any fight there are three possible outcomes, we're equal and we both get hurt, you're better and I'll get hurt, or I'm better and you get hurt. That's two to one odds on me being injured, I don't play those odds.

 

Every since I can remember the shadows have been my friend. So when the people get upset I just find myself a nice dark corner and sit there until it all cools off. I can pull the shadows around me and manipulate the darkness.

 

Even if they don't see where I go for the rest of the evening, they see me the next day. I tend to get run out of a lot of places. I started in Las Vegas, all the lights bother me though, not enough shadows. So I make my way across the US and find myself here in the windy city. Sure, why not, there are a lot people in this city, a lot of people means a lot of money.

 

I am betting people on three card monty and this guy tries to jack me for stealing his money. So I make like a tree and leave. I'm good at moving through crowds and using crowds to slow down anyone who wants to give chase. I see what I'm looking for, a nice dark alley. I duck into the alley and press into the shadows, thing is, there's somebody there already.

 

"Mr. Schatten, glad you could make it."

 

This greatly disturbs me. See the thing is I'm a big fan of anonymity. I don't need a fancy car, I don't need a fancy lifestyle, I just need money to keep food in stomach and roof over my head. I tend to pay for everything in cash. I like it that way. People keep claiming the wonders of a cashless society but they don't understand that they'll track your every move. Me, I don't take checks and I don't accept credit cards. If you want to play my games, you pay with the green.

 

Needless to say for someone I don't know to use my real name puts the fear of god into me. In my line of work I find its best not give out my real name. I've gone through a dozen different names for every town I've been to. I don't know half of them, and sometimes I almost forget my real name.

 

Snap back to the present predicament though and I find myself wondering who this guy is and what he wants. I'm also looking for a way out. When cornered one person compared me to a rat. Not very flattering I suppose, but at this instant it felt pretty accurate. I was scopeing out the alley when suddenly he pushes me back into daylight. There goes the idea of jumping into the shadows. A car pulls up and the door opens and I am guided into a rather fine luxury automobile. At least its not the cops, they don't do leather interiors and black Lincoln towncars. A chill passes through me as I realize it's not the cops. At least with cops I just spend a day or two in jail and I'm back on the streets, felonies don't keep me from getting a job. The alternative is that I may find myself at the bottom of the lake.

 

Well after a rather rude escort I find myself in a brightly lit room. They even have a light under the desk and chairs. They know who I am. I pull out my deck of cards and start fidget with them. I flip through all my sleight of hands tricks figuring I might as well keep myself busy. A door opens and a well dressed gentlemen walks in.

 

I must look like quite the sight to such a well-manicured man. Never saw much value in getting my trench coat dry cleaned and pressed. I don't bother much with suits, not like I'm going on any interviews. Not that I dress poor, its hard to bring people to a table when you look and smell like you're off the street, but at the same time people are wary if you're betting and you wear an Armani. Dress shirt, casual slacks and scuffed shoes tend to be my uniform when I hit the streets.

 

He puts a large folder on the desk and looks at me. "These are just your aliases Mr. Schatten, I don't believe I'm strong enough to carry the folder that lists all your crimes." This guy's a riot, a real comedian.

 

"So you know all about me, what do you want?"

 

" I simply want to show you that you can't hide from us Arthur, we'll always be able to find you." He paused and looked up, "So now that we understand each other I'd like to offer you a job."

 

What choice did I have, so here I am, you can call me Black Jack.

[Hermit]

The Claw

 

When the Name the Hero Contest was at HERO #5, I hit a blank. By the time I came up with this concept, it was too late to submit. However, since you guys are looking for origin stories... here's a repost of it.

 

Background/History:

The criminals ran through the dark alley, fear clearly evident in their eyes. A garbage can wobbles loose, causing the thug on the left to scramble in his panic. They come to the end of the alley, only to see him!

"G'day, scum." With twin slicing motions, the costumed man tears open the money bags of the would be heisters, "You're next." He replies.

One kicks, but his blow is neatly dodged, the other falls back...

and accidentally knocks a wall over.

"CUT!"

'The Claw' let loose a groan, "For crying out loud. Can we get a set that holds up a little bit more?" One of the prop guys started to apologize, but Daniel cut him off with a dismissive swipe of his hand. "I'll be in my trailer."

The fur trimmed star huffed off, trying to lose his agent, Stephen. No dice.

"Daniel, what the hell's wrong with you? You almost lost the accent."

Daniel popped open a beer, and glanced at it. Even the beer he had was Australian. He took a drink, then turned to Stephen, and snapped with accent attached, "And a G'day to you too, you bludging bastard." The accent dropped like a brick, and he smirked, "That better?"

"Loads," Stephen sighed, "Just remember, you maybe America's favorite new prime-time superhero, but those guys on the set don't necessarily like you. One of them might sell you out in a minute if they found out you were ..."

"A fake?" Daniel let his eyes narrow just a bit.

"Well, yes Daniel, you pretend to have powers, you're not Australian, and your whole crime-fighting career is paid for. The public doesn't know that, but that's okay. You're SUPPOSED to be fake, this is show business."

Daniel took another drink, he realized Stephen was right. He did sign up for this once Stephen told him the plan. It had paid off. Daniel's study of Kali had translated well to the claws provided him, and his training with a stunt man made him seem to take hits stronger than he could actually survive. A little spin, a little magic, and they had him faking near supernatural senses and recuperative powers as well. The excuse being his fighting style was nothing more than 'animal instinct'. Not true of course, but he could fake it, just like he faked the accent. It was decided being from another country would make Claw more exotic.

Daniel glanced over at the new load of fan mail he'd been sent. It always cheered him up to hear the praise of how cool he was, how he could kick this hero's butt, or nail that villain to the wall. Other times, it just served to remind him just how many they'd fooled.

"You're thinking about it again." Stephen warned.

"Mmm?" Daniel came out of his reverie. "What do you mean?"

"You're not a super hero. Don't ever try to BE a super hero. Do you want to ruin what we've got? Do you want to be the Milli Vanilli of the spandex set?"

"Fine." Daniel said through gritted teeth, "I'll be out in five."

................

Daniel walked through the alley way. Millennium City was too high tech sometimes, too impersonal. He preferred Hollywood. Sure, it didn't care for you either, but it tried to look that way, and right now Daniel could sympathize with a fellow actor. The shoot earlier had been grueling, and despite Stephen's protests, Daniel was enjoying the city solo. Not like too many would recognize him out of the costume. Or so he hoped.

There was a scream. For one surreal moment, Daniel was sure he was on the set again. Then he ran towards the sound as fast as he could. He banged up against a garbage can, trying not to curse as he did so. He turned the corner to see a little girl with a knife to her throat. The hostage taker was a big man that stank faintly of garlic.

"Just back off."

Daniel fell into character, "Easy there, Mate. Not my bizzo I know, but let's not be a dill. You know who I am?"

The girl apparently knew, her eyes widened, and Daniel thought he saw something there, hope. The hostage taker knew as well, but the reaction wasn't what Daniel hoped, "The Claw? You ain't taken me in man, you ain't taken me in..." The assailants's breathing grew panicked, and he looked at the girl again, "Not when you need to take this kid to the hospital!" The knife at the girl's throat started to slice forward.

Only to have another knife thrown to intercept and disarm. Smoke filled the alley, there were several thumping sounds. When it cleared, everyone in the alley could finally see each other by the straying lights. There was the girl (who flew to Daniel's arms), the thug ( who was unconscious), Daniel (who was confused as heck), and Nighthawk.

The hawkcowled figure shot a withering glance at the actor, "Your attempts to be a real hero nearly got this girl killed, you moron."

Daniel felt like taking a swing at the arrogant vigilante, but the sniffling of the girl holding to him held him back. He almost lost the accent again though, "Look Galah, you know who you're talking to?"

Nighthawk replied coldly, "You're the actor who plays Claw. You, or someone working on your behalf, occasionally pays some ex-stronghold con to lie and say you beat them. Yeah, I know who you are. Every super hero does. We can't do much about it without facing some lawsuit, and no one would believe us any ways, but we do know who you are."

"That's not true!" the girl yelled at Nighthawk, "Claw's the greatest hero ever, don't you talk to him like that!"

The super hero looked at the girl, then at Daniel. His voice filled with disgust for the latter, "You're not worthy of the trust she shows in you. You've got nothing." There was more smoke, and Nighthawk was gone.

"You okay, Claw?" The girl asked eyes shining.

Was he okay? This girl had nearly been sold on some sick slave market, and she was asking if he was okay? The show, Daniel thought, must go on. "I'm fine." He smiled, "let's get you home." The smile, was fake. Then again, Daniel mused, it seemed a lot of things were.

.............

The next day, Stephen droned on in the limo they shared, "Okay, when you get out at the rally, remember you've got to play up the sex appeal... raw animal magne..." The limo stopped, and Stephen pressed the com button and asked the driver, "Hey, what's the hold up?"

Daniel fidgeted in the costume, popping the claws in and out. These gauntlets were the real deal, the fans would be too close to fool with some break away material.

The chauffeur's voice responded, "Sorry sir, it's all over the news, Mechanon is in town. Looks like the Champions and a lot of other heroes are banding together to take him down. This whole street is being detoured for public safety."

Stephen sighed, "Great, what else could go wrong, eh Daniel?"

There was no response, the Claw was no longer in the car. Stephen felt his throat dry out as he read the note in the seat were a moment ago his meal-ticket had been.

It said: Gone to see what I've got-Claw