Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

[nexus]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Thanks!

 

 

Next up: Red Tornado

[David Johnston]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Yuri Zhulianov was the Russian army's top competitive boxer when he was tapped in 1942 to wear a costume for the Motherland. The Americans, the British and the Germans all had "superheroes" and the Americans were even sending a team on a mission to assist Russian war efforts. Obviously, even though they needed the help, it would be embarassing for the Soviet Union to look as though it could muster no "heroes" of it's own but instead must rely on foreigners, so they issued Yuri a costume and one of those tediously long-winded "Patriotic Defender of Socialist Consciousness" titles in order to assign him to meet, be photographed with, and work with the American heroes. The western media however, dubbed him the Red Tornado instead. It was shorter and more exciting. Yuri died in action and after the war was over, the only hero of the republic that Stalin wanted remembered was Stalin. But time passed, Stalin was gone and by the seventies Yuri's granddaughter was an engineer for the state in charge of evaluating and applying the latest in stolen American power armour technology. The Russians had of course built their own suits of armour, but they were hulking clumsy things that were no match for the more sophisticated American power armour hero who was the cutting edge.

 

So she built a suit using his technology, custom designed for a small Olympic gymnast...her sister, Anya. Russia now would have a power armour hero even more agile than the American, beating him at his own speciality. Everyone else in Russia had forgotten Yuri, but the story of his heroism had been passed down in his family, and in his honour Russia's new hero would be named after him. A new Red Tornado was sent into action.

[Whitewings]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Julie Quinn is a mutant, or so the current speculation goes. Her power is... peculiar. She can spin at incredible speed, fast enough to whip up a highly localized tornado if she wishes, but her body cannot endure the strain of such swift rotation, and so when she spins up she also changes, liquefying and spreading out in a fine reddish mist, dispersed through the windstorm. Worse, she cannot spin down until she's exhausted, though she can moderate the strength of the windstorm she becomes. When she spins down, she pulls herself back together and resolidifies, but her clothing is another matter; the change usually shreds or scatters her wardrobe, and so between the two problems her power is very much an option of last resort, to be used only in response to the most dire of needs. Sadly, such needs have arisen a few times, enough that a few photos have been taken of this strange, miniature red tornado.

[nexus]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Both good entries but David Johnston's gave me a better impression of a character with a background, personality and essentially felt like a more solid entry to build a NPC/PC around. Whitewing's entry was creative both in power set and use of ther name; but I didn't get a good idea about the character would be like aside from her power and some squick factor. It was a very tough descision and I went back and fourth for awhile but David Johnston's entry nudges out Whitewings since its seems like its developed enough to drop right into a game without additional fleshing out. Rep to both of you though for fine entries. Congradulation to the winner. Next name is yours.

 

(Will Rep David Johnston as soon as I am able)

[David Johnston]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

The next name is:

 

Scarecrow

[nexus]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Isaiah Thomson was born into a simple family of farmers in Eastern Kentucky outside of a town that would barely be a decent neighborhood in a major city. Cities, their problems and costumed defenders were distant, vaguely understood stories here and the residents were glad of it. Quiet, hardworking people they wanted none of the flash and dangers they heard about and where more than content with their pastoral and relatively simple lives. Isaiah grew up with those values in mind, using his gifts: great strength, speed and stamina quiet, using them only to work on his family’s farm and do the occasional, very quiet good deed for others, usually over cover of darkness.

 

Then the outsiders came, men in peculiar green uniforms with guns and other weapons, some of them with powers. It seemed the hills the surrounded the town held secrets, important secrets the people were willing to go to great lengths, even kill for. These men had come for at least one of them. They called themselves Viper. It didn’t take long for them to effectively cut off the town. Simple people with simple weapons didn’t stand much chance and outside visitors were few and far between. Many maps didn’t even include this town. Outside help couldn’t be counted on, not for some time at least.

 

For awhile the resident of Idleton just tried to except their situation certain the strangers would take what the wanted and leave eventually but they longer Viper stayed, the worst their occupation became rising from rough treatment to out and out brutality, liberties were taken the local women and then people started to vanish. Then, one evening, Isaiah heard a cry for help and when he rushed to the scene found a small group of the green uniformed men pulling Charity Wilson, a local girl towards a van, laughing and making some very improper suggestions.

 

That was the final straw; Isaiah wouldn’t stand by any longer no matter what his father said. He knew what standing up to these people meant and didn’t want to bring down trouble on his family so he snatched off crude bag head from a near by scarecrow and pulled it before wading the Viper men, hoping to disguise his identity. Surprised by his appearance and abilities, the would-be kidnappers were quickly overwhelmed; Charity was stunned and could only muster a breathless “Who are you!?” Isaiah latched onto the first thing that popped into his head, the source of his current disguise: Scarecrow.

 

From that night on, Isaiah has worked against the group occupying his town, striking at them where he can but he is somewhat overwhelmed. Not a violent person by nature he’s not skilled at combat and mostly gets by with sheer brute force and amazing resilience. The fact that only very limited resistance and no real superhuman opposition was expected is currently working his favor but that won’t last long. The operations commander is already considering calling reinforcements. Scarecrow’s victories are beginning to stir a spirit of resistance in the town, particularly among its younger citizens but this might not be enough. Isaiah is considering trying to find outside help…

[Whitewings]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

In certain parts of Eastern Europe, orphanages are routinely overcrowded, understaffed, and underfunded. In consequence, even the ones with honest staff who genuinely want the best for their charges are disinclined to inquiring too deeply into prospective parents' backgrounds. A secretive group decided this was a prime opportunity, and under the cover of a "medical screening program" extracted blood and tissue samples from across the region, searching for toddlers with specific markers, then after returning the results (with certain omissions) to the appropriate staff, began adopting these children. Each child went to a respectable middle-class home, and if their adoptive parents were a bit distant, well, it was still an improvement over where they'd been.

 

Once all of the children had learned to walk and talk and to read and write on a basic level, they were taken to a cheery-looking building, where they were told something very special would happen. Each child was told to take a bath, and then go directly to a room where the special surprise would happen. As each child entered a room, the door to that room was closed. They were isolation chambers, soundless and lightless, with padded walls and a carefully controlled air temperature. The children would not be let out no matter much they wailed.

 

Three children got out by opening doors in their minds, and stepping into their bedrooms or back yards. Seven simply blew holes in the walls. Nine cried in their parents' minds to be let out, and were let out. Each child, upon departure, got a nice new set of clothes, and a party with cake and ice cream and games, and was made much of and soothed and praised.

 

But one little girl did none of these things. She made a friend: A scarecrow. Not a scary, lurching Walpurgisnacht scarecrow, but a cheerful, friendly, slightly bumbling scarecrow, like in Wizard of Oz. They talked and played and sang songs, and when the little girl got hungry, the scarecrow said he'd get her something, and vanished. He reappeared in the cafeteria, got some food, and carried it back to the little girl's room - and when he pushed the door open, the girl got her new clothes and party and praise and soothing.

 

The children were taught how to keep their abilities secret, but children are children, and they've used them when they probably shouldn't have. Our girl has sometimes seen other kids with troubles, and sent her friend to help. Being a sad and gloomy sort, her friend is everything she'd like to be: Happy, friendly, cheerful and helpful. And so the living scarecrow is becoming known, and the subject of tales and story, some good, some bad. Slowly, interacting with him is drawing his creator out of her shell.

[David Johnston]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

This time I'll give the nod to Whitewings. His Scarecrow is interesting and unconventional, and actually does stuff. Sadly I can't rep him again so soon, but it is up to him to pick the next name.

[Whitewings]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Thank you. And for my next pick, I choose Metamorpho.

[nexus]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

"So there we were, on a field trip to the Museum of Natural History when all these weirdos break in! They were in black robes and these freaky masks, shouting about “All Hail Demon” and stuff. They didn’t even say WHICH Demon…

 

But anyway, Mr. Linderman he like changes… and he’s all decked out like a superhero or something and he starts fighting bad guys! It was SO cool! I mean, who’da thought Lame Lindsey was a Superhero! Anyway these Demon guys were trying to get something called The Philosopher’s Stone, magical artifact. Just looked like a shiny marble to me but they sure where eager to get it!

 

So it just seemed reasonable to grab it when the case shattered. I mean you can’t let stuff like fall into the hands of the bad guys, right? So I snatch it up and scoot outta there. Lindsey and the Demon guys are too busy fighting and yelling smack at each other to really notice….

 

Later on, after all the fuss dies down and I get home with it (Hey, I had to keep it from the bad guys…they might have had spies…) I start playing around with it, trying all sort of magical words and stuff. It first nothing works then I remember something Lam…. Er, Mr. Lindsey said about the power of the willpower or mind over matter, some junk like that and I just try… thinking really really hard at it.

 

And it works! All kinds a blue light jump outta the thing and hit my old baseball trophy (that what I had it pointed at) and changes…changes into gold! After that it just got easier and easier. Seemed like some changes were easier than others…. the bigger the change the harder it was changing shapes was cake and sublimia… subliminal… making a solid a gas was really hard and changing paper to metal made me really tired.. and I couldn’t change anything living and even stuff that used to be alive, like wood was pretty hard to change more than its shape.

 

There was only one thing to really do at this point though…..

 

Become a superhero! Mr Lindsey looked like he could use the help with robed guys running around and all that. Besides, what else do you do when you get cool powers! I just needed a name. Stone was kind of generic… I change stuff… Changer, Chango.. no too lame. I looked in online dictionary for some good words for change or changer

 

Metamorphic … Metamorph? Metamorpher .. No..

 

METAMORPHO! Perfect…

 

No what do I do for a costume… "

[Whitewings]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Well, as there's only one entry the winner's easy to pick: Nexus. Happily, it's a very good entry, giving an origin, a power set, and at least some sense of personality. You choose the next.

[nexus]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Thanks

 

Next up something a bit obscure: Razorback

[Sundog]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Razorback, huh? Well, it's got to be better than the real thing (some guy who dresses up as a boar...).

 

Pain!

 

Lester "Long Les" Burkowski writhed in agony. The straight razor the punk'd pulled on him was buried in his back; the only thing he could think of after he blew the kid's brains out was The little snot'd've never pulled this shit if I was made...

Light. Cold. A smell of antiseptic. Long Les woke up on a smooth metal table.

"Greetings, my tall friend. No, don't get up; the damage the blade did was considerable, and I could not fix all of it. Your body must finish healing on it's own."

Les looked up at the voice. The man was short, no more than five feet, and bald as an egg; his emaciated frame covered by a white lab coat.

"I am Doctor Max. Your friends dropped you off here, but did not hang around; I think they expected you to die. And you would have, if it hadn't been me," the little man chuckled. "The blade severed your spinal cord entirely, as well as puncturing your lung and aorta. The latter damage was easy to fix, but the nerves had to be replaced."

Les gaped. Replaced? Everybody knew you couldn't do that...

 

But it seemed "everybody" was wrong.

 

Doctor Max booted him out of his underground clinic five days later, with a bunch of pills and instructions on avoiding infection. Over the next few days, Les learned that there had been a few side effects.

 

He was faster than he'd ever dreamed. The artificial spine came complete with combat reflexes, and increased his reaction speed by a factor of ten. Oh, he was still no tougher or stronger than an ordinary man, but Les had always been big, and now he made it his business to bulk up, develop muscles and toghen himself in the gym.

 

And when he was done, he stalked and killed the head of the Korolov crime family.

 

Les had been a second-rate hood, but not because of lack of ability. None of the big boys had ever given him a chance. "Long Les" was always the wrong ethnicity, from the wrong neighbourhood, not quite good enough. And "Long Les" died in an alley.

 

Razorback wasn't second rate. And he'd prove it - even if it took the lives of every "made man" in the city.

[nexus]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Well looks like I'll give it to Sundog. Not a particularly difficult thing to do since the entry was excellent. I like how it took a different, grittier spin on a pretty corny original. Very fitting for a DC Street levell Supers game.

 

Next choice is yours Sundog.

[Sundog]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Hmm...something a little different...Mr. Mind.

[nexus]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Mark Patterson was a normal guy, in good shape, somewhat handsome, nice to his friends and a hard worker but what he wasn’t was smart. That’s not to say the Mark was dumb. No he did all right in school, got average grades nothing spectacular but enough to get by. He always wanted more though to be stand out. It was something he’d picked up from his father, another dedicated, dependable man but only gifted with an average mind; what he called work smarts. He always told his son that a strong back would get you through the day, but a strong mind could take anywhere.

 

But as much as Mark tried to live up to his father’s wishes he never could quite pull it off. All the studying, the hard work and reading and he still just got average grades sometimes a little better but nothing to write home about. His father was always proud at least on the outside but Mark always wondered how he really felt. As he got older, Mark mostly lived it down, striving for other accomplishments such as sports to try and make his father proud of him and the elder Patterson was. He was at every game, at every award that is until he died when Mark was sixteen, leaving his son still doubting his worth.

 

Mark grew up, got a good job working at HCU’s physical plant division. He had a good life, many friends even a met a nice, very pretty woman willing to give him more than the time of day named Patty; they were engaged. He should have been happy. For the most part he was but that was still that desire. Listening to all the brains talk while he was a work didn’t help, neither did all the condescending looks he received even while he was fixing things they didn’t have a clue how to. Mark got pretty close to telling a few of them off even snapped at Patty once or twice which made him feel like dirt. Some thing had to give before or he’d end up wrecking his life over this.

 

So when he saw the notice asking for test subject for some sort of smart drug it felt like a sign. Mark joined up and underwent a few weeks of treatments, mnemonics tests, quizzes and logical puzzle meant to sharpen his mental focus and develop his cognitive abilities. He willfully ignored just how obsessive, cold and generally creepy the doctor in charge was probably not the smartest thing to do, ironically. In the end though it didn’t work; aside from the nausea from the bills and a few blinding headaches nothing really changed.

 

Dejected, Mark fell into a funk that lasted the next three weeks until one evening when he was doing the evening crossword puzzle in the paper, expecting to struggle thought it usual.

 

He completed it in a few seconds, most of that being writing the answers down.

 

The same thing happened with scrambled word puzzles, the sendoku books Patty loved, anything he could get his hands on. It was like every thing he’d ever read, overheard and had just gone over his head suddenly clicked into place. He didn’t want to believe it was true so he didn’t tell anyone why he was he spending long nights at the University library voraciously reading. He could finish a book as quickly as he could turn the pages and remember everything in perfect detail, finish math problems like a calculator and he used to need a scratch paper to do multiple more than 2 digit numbers.

 

It was a rush, like being on some incredible drug. He spent days just watching game shows, read mysteries and doing puzzles. Fortunately he had allot of sick days saved up but that didn’t stop Patty from worrying when he didn’t call or stop by for almost a week. When she finally confronted him, Mark admitted what had happened. She wanted him to go to hospital, afraid that whatever the treatments were might have bad side effects. Mark refused, confident that nothing bad could come of this; it was a dream come true!

 

Though he wasn’t entirely just want to do with it. He wanted to educate himself but college cost money and his high school records weren’t that great. Then an obvious answer struck him: game shows, trivia contest and that sort of thing. Why not put this gift to use right away? But then while checking out the news he’d fallen behind on, Mark read about the killings.

 

It was a horrific spree of serial murders. The victims were from all ages groups, genders and backgrounds seemingly picked at random and horribly tortured and mutilated; their bodies left in an almost ritualistic presentation inside their homes. The random nature of the attacks had the police baffled. For Mark though, the pattern was obvious as various things he’d read and heard about came together like puzzle pieces. The killer was picking his victim according to the black Zodiac: The Beast, the Foresworn Prince and the Giant had already been taken. The more he dug up the more it made sense. Their backgrounds, birthdays, everything was taken into account. He could practically predict the next victim and when they were going to be attack. When he contracted the police though, his advice was lost, filed away with hundreds of cranks and supposed psychics.

 

Mark wasn’t the sort to let someone die though. He went to the victim directly, a suburban mother that was according his deduction slated to be the Charred Lover. Frightened at first, she had no choice but to believe him when the killer struck, intent on collecting the next piece of his Zodiac. He didn’t expect Mark and it was brawn the saw Mark through this time. The psychopath ended up locked away in New Bedlam and Mark became an overnight celebrity in Hudson City. Interviews lead to the talk show circuit and other television appearances. Hudson City’s smartest man, dubbed by Mr. Mind by the press was on his way to achieving the dream he’d always wanted. Mark considered becoming a private detective.

 

Then the Black Zodiac Killer escaped, taking several of New Bedlam’s more notorious inmates. It was also clear he had outside help in making his escape. Shortly afterward, Mr Mind began receiving notes, small hints of impending crimes. They were simple at first but grew more and more complex. Someone, perhaps the killer, wanted to play a game…

[Sundog]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Nice one! I see I'm not the only one thinking DC levels!

 

For fairness, I'm giving it until Friday to judge.

[David Johnston]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Doctor Fate was drawn back into superheroics when he fell under suspicion as a blackmailer. The rich and famous were all finding themselves victimised by someone who knew their most embarassing secrets. After one victim killed himself and left a detailed recounting of his conversation with a masked man who seemed to know everything he was thinking, the police became very interested in Fate's nonexistent alibi for the night in question. While Fate had no real mental powers, he had developed something of a knack for putting things together. He identified several of the victims, and retraced their past movements, determining that they had all eaten at the same fashionable restaurant, and that the blackmail had started after that restaurant had hired one "Ivor Karzik" as a busboy. Karzik was reading their minds. Karzik of course, realised that Doctor Fate was onto him and threatened to expose him as a phony if he didn't back off. Reading the helpless frustration in Fate's mind, he was sure he was home-free.

 

His next blackmail rendezvous was a trap set by Doctor Fate and the media swarmed as he was taken in. True to his word, he denounced Doctor Fate to the media, only to find to his frustration that he simply wasn't believed. After all, Doctor Fate had fooled "Mister Mind", so who had the greater mental powers? That Doctor Fate had just changed his mind after a chat with a mysterious woman simply wasn't interesting enough for his reporter-fans.

[Sundog]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Well, Friday is here, so a-judging I must be.

 

David Johnston's take was quite interesting, with new concepts for both Mr. Mind and Dr. Fate, and a really clever solution to the dilemma. But I think I need to give this one to Nexus; there's something very appealing about his Mr. Mind, and the story makes me want to hear the next chapter.

 

Your choice next, Nexus.

[nexus]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Thank you for the commentary. The story was actually pretty fun to write.

 

Next up: Speedball

[David Johnston]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Isadore Melton was a true crackpot, a would-be inventor who wasted his life trying to create a perpetual motion machine. In a more rational universe he never would have developed anything, but in a superheroic universe, while crackpots can't make genuine discoveries they can, just by wanting it enough, make the occasional artifact that acts as though they had.

 

Thus for Melton he had one of those unique unreproducible, essentially useless breakthroughs, the Speedball, a spherical vehicle that drew it's motive force directly from something called "The Momentum Zone". Inside there was a second sphere containing the pilot seat and the control joystick that could rotate the inner sphere horizonally, changing the direction of travel of the ball as a whole in the process. The Speedball could accelerate to sonic speeds, smashing any obstacle.

 

Now, another man having invented such a thing might have decided to use it for a life of crime since it obviously wasn't useful for superheroics. Melton was not such a man. He went out to try to fight crime in it, because he was an idiot. The property damage and danger to bystanders was truly phenomenal. Worse, the Speedball was virtually indestructible while in motion, so attempts to disable it seemed fruitless as it rampaged through the streets. The heroes who tried to stop it had to come up with schemes to slow it down down enough that it would be vulnerable to attack.

[dbsousa]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Nobody could remember what Johnny Speedball's real name, not even Johnny. All he could remember was his ultimate high, a nearly lethal mix of cocaine and heroin and that he had been chasing it for eight years. Johnny was desperate, and when a group of men in black suits offered him $1000 to participate in an experiment, it seemed to him like the easiest drug money ever.

 

The experiment was a real downer. To the researchers, johnny was a sucess, the nanites in his bloodstream healed any injury or illness nearly instantly. To Johnny, it was hell. His body had been rendered immune to the effects of drugs altogether. Miserable, he planned his escape. leaping out a 10 story window, he bropke nearly every bone in his body. He healed back before anyone even knew he was missing. As he started running down the street. he heard a voice in his head. "Be Good", the voice said.

 

"Who are you?" Speedball asked

 

"We are you, We are us, You are we..."

 

"We live inside you, healing you, in exchange, we occupy a small portion of your brain, enough to allow us a degree of sentience. We wish to live a human life. will you allow us to do so?"

 

"Look man, you get me high, you can do whatever you want..."

 

"Very well, allow us to take over the motor functions of your brain from time to time, and in exchange, we will give you control of your pleasure centers."

 

"Sounds like a deal, man, when do we start?"

 

"Right Now." said the voice. Johnny felt a wave of pleasure ride over him, and felt himself leave his body, floating in a world inside his mind.

 

The Collective made Johnny grin. This body would do for now, but there would be others shortly. As Johnny Speedball interacted with others, the Collective would colonize other bodies, making similar deals to control their motor functions. Mankind would scarcely believe that the invasion force would consist of a junkie named Speedball...

[nexus]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

Both pretty interesting takes on the name and miles apart from the original, IMO. I'm going to give it to dhousa this time because his version was a bit more fleshed out along being genuinely creepy.

[dbsousa]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

OK, how about...Lifeguard

[David Johnston]

Re: Re-Imaged Hero(ines)

 

When he was 6 years old, Ivan Kandinsky wandered away from his parents and through a hole in the universe. On the other side, he met an old man named Koschei who took him as a servant. Koschei was terribly afraid of death and relied upon regular magical assistance just to keep living day to day. He taught young Ivan the magic needed to fight off death and for over ten years the young man regularly laid hands upon his master in order to give the incredibly old man just one more day of life. Eventually, he found a way to escape, and decided to leave Russia to put a little more distance between himself and the terrible old man.

 

He kept a low profile, until the day of the disaster, an earthquake that ripped apart his new city, killing many and injuring far more, and the carnage was such that he decided he had to do something. He donned a surgical mask and started using his power to keep people alive until their injuries could be treated. Later there was a more vicious than usual confrontation between superhumans and he did it again. Eventually, he was routinely showing up at 911 calls. He didn't heal them as such. But after he laid his hands on them, they would simply stop bleeding, their diseases would cease progressing for a while. Death, temporarily had no dominion over those he helped. If they could be saved in that time by conventional medicine, then they would be. Fear of what certain wealthy men would do for his life extension magic kept him from revealing his identity, so he just called himself "Lifeguard".